— It was nighttime; half an hour had already passed since the duo had left on their reconnaissance mission. Only four crew members and the captain remained on the ship. They were all in an uproar, speculating about what had happened or who was behind the trouble. They were making so much noise that they were scaring away the nearby animals —
"I tell you, it's Gaia; she's angry with us"
"What are you talking about? This is the fault of that other idiot who killed a seagull to eat; now the wrath of the sea has fallen upon us"
"We're all going to die; they haven't come back yet
— They kept speculating and interrupting each other like untamed animals, until a single sentence made the incessant barrage of "buts" give way to the calm sound of the river —
"Why all the commotion?"
— said the figure climbing the stairs; his voice was like that of someone just waking up, but it was enough to make everyone lower their heads and fall silent. Their panic was evident in their stiff postures and the sweat on their hands, but what stood out most were their gazes, their eyes—once defiant in a frenzy of arguments—now seeking refuge in the cold wood of the ship, accepting silence as their only answer —
"Why isn't anyone answering my question? Do I have to repeat myself?"
— he said as he approached one of them. His towering stature was imposing—a head and a half taller than that man—and his physique stood out even more next to that greasy man. It was night; the moon was hidden behind the sails of the clouds. His face couldn't be made out, only a silhouette that could only be described as beautiful —
"Th—there's been a problem"
"An intruder. Someone is killing our men. We sent two of them out half an hour ago, and they still haven't returned"
"I see. What a hassle, but it's part of my contract. If he comes here alone, just wake me up and I'll take care of him"
— The crew members remained motionless even though the man had turned his back on them; they were perplexed by his nonchalance. They only saw him return to his room and continue sleeping in his bed; the situation didn't seem to bother him in the slightest, which infuriated his men —
"That damn fish, he thinks he's so superior just because he's a favorite"
"We should kill him and take his trident. I heard that weapons made by his race are very expensive"
"Yes, but we must first deal with our problem"
— The men had scattered to the four corners of the ship; they were all on guard with swords in hand, waiting for that creature that had taken their comrades on that night of a shy moon.
Just then, Krax slipped discreetly into the ship's interior. It wasn't difficult with everyone scattered like that and the cover of darkness. He went down the stairs and arrived in the treasury room. There was a lot of stuff that looked expensive—clothes, weapons, fruit, and wine. It was quite full and surprisingly well-organized.
Though initially impressed by the weapons, Krax continued moving a little further in until he found what he was looking for.
It was an injured girl on the floor; her hair was silver, and she wore a simple pink cloth. You could see marks from blows and lashes —
"You seem to be at your limit, girl. Here, have some water."
— Krax picked up the girl and was surprised by her appearance; her skin was a dark gray hue, with textures resembling metal plates, as if it were armor, covering her from her cheeks to her feet like a shell, much like a pangolin. As she drank, her eyes became visible; they were a brilliant purple with small pupils, giving her a hypnotic and menacing gaze that stood out against her dark skin —
"Are you a Vulcan, right?"
— Krax was talking to himself; the girl didn't have the strength to even listen—her physical condition was deplorable —
"Don't worry, it's all over now. Can you close your eyes and wait here for two minutes?"
— The girl closed her eyes as requested. Krax laid her on the floor, covering her with his raincoat, then took his sword and left the room. As he climbed the stairs, he saw the four men surrounding the entrance —
"Did you really think we were that stupid? You'll die here, you bastard, for underestimating us."
"Oh, great. You made my job easier."
— Krax drew his sword, slashing at such a speed at the man standing in front of him that the man didn't even notice until blood spattered —
"AAAHHH!!! KILL HIM!!!"
— With a kick, Krax shoved the man in front of him toward his men, jumping over him to break out of the circle. The other men pounced on him, while the one already on the brink of death ran toward the captain's room. Krax, though outnumbered, seemed to have no trouble against them, blocking every attack with disconcerting ease. A clear difference in technique was evident between them, while the men attacked desperately just to touch him, Krax, on the other hand, delivered a fatal blow with every move.
Cutting off the leg, hand, and torso of each one, the fight was practically over. Meanwhile, in the room, the man who had been clutching his stomach in pain had arrived—the only one of the few who had managed to withstand an attack, if we can put it that way, because his body fat was what saved him—
"Captain, captain, get up, they're attacking us… you damn useless fool, well…"
— He looked at the weapon beside him; it was beautiful, a trident with bluish scales, covered in golden threads that wound their way up to cover the three prongs at its tip. It was a work of art even to the eyes of an amateur; he couldn't resist the urge to take it for himself, but he froze, feeling the gaze of the one he was searching for, once again feeling like a child cornered by a giant monster that made his space feel tiny; his hands had never seemed so small —
"What are you doing?"