—In that blood-soaked landscape, only one man stood. Krax's clothes were soaked through, though it wasn't noticeable because they were the same color as his raincoat. He had only a few superficial cuts, but his enemies were in far worse shape, lying on the blood-soaked ground, but the strangest thing was the scene unfolding: dark smoke rose from the remains of his enemies as they surrounded his sword; one could see it taking on an even stranger color—dark with lighter edges.
He stood motionless, lost in thought, staring at the ground, until suddenly he saw a body hurtling toward him. He split it in half on reflex, certain there was a second attack lurking. A trident came hurtling toward his face at high speed; he managed to dodge it by a hair's breadth and put distance between himself and his enemy. It was at that very moment, when the clouds parted to let the moonlight shine through, his eyes flew wide open just as quickly as his eyebrows shot up; it was like a bucket of ice-cold water that stopped his heart for a beat, and all of that happened the moment he saw the being standing before him. It was a massive figure, about six feet tall, with defined yet elongated musculature, similar to that of an Olympic swimmer, carrying a trident nearly as tall as he was, but that was the most ordinary thing one could say about his appearance; his pale white skin was covered in bluish scales that reached all the way to his cheeks, his long, darker blue hair almost hid his ears, which looked like fins, and his transparent eyes further highlighted his beauty of great rarity—icy, perfect features that were sharp as coral ridges. He was undoubtedly a being from the depths.
He surveyed the situation, observing the state of his men with an unnaturally cold gaze; it was as if he were looking at them through a thick glass window —
"Were you the one who caused all this mess?"
— Krax didn't answer; he simply went on guard. The sweat on his face, his seemingly immovable stance, and his hands gripping his sword tightly already spoke volumes about the situation to the —
"Can I at least know why all this mess?…, you know, before you die"
— Krax felt a cold sweat run down his back as he saw that the being in front of him had closed the distance in a single step, leaving him barely enough time to block the attack —
"Not bad, let's see this"
— he said before grabbing his trident by the shaft to launch a simple downward strike, one that, even though Krax had blocked it, shattered the floor of the ship where he stood, sending him falling into what appeared to be the dining hall —
"Oh shit, the boss won't be happy if I destroy a ship"
— Krax ran quickly in one direction; his enemy was clearly too strong. He had to find a way to escape this situation. His time to think ran out very quickly when his enemy began launching an avalanche of thrusts toward the floor, further reducing Krax's mobility, even planting him on one side of his waist, then dragging him out of the dining room as if he were a fish,
Krax was thrown toward the mast, slamming his back hard against it.
Even so, his enemy didn't even give him time to breathe before starting to attack him again; he was already struggling to defend himself because of his wound —
"You're good—not bad for a Malkhut rank. You're in the tenth tier, right? It's easy to tell, you know?"
— Even if he wanted to, Krax was too busy fighting for his life to answer his questions; it was already difficult just to breathe.
His enemy paused his attacks for a moment, a brief instant when Krax thought he could land a blow by attacking head-on, but the enemy dodged effortlessly, leaping over him as the moonlight shone behind him —
"Let's end this"
— Krax felt as if a waterfall were crashing down on him; his enemy was unleashing countless attacks per second upon him. There were so many that it was impossible to block them all; he was being submerged like a fish in the depths of the sea. He could no longer even breathe, ending up once again on the dining room floor in a near-death state —
"It seems you managed to protect your organs and other vital points; you impress me, you impress me. That's a very high level for someone so young, —he sighed—, what bad luck for you to have crossed paths with me; I'm quite busy, so I'll end this painlessly"
— The being raised its trident in a throwing stance, about to end that man's life, when white threads began to wrap around his neck. He quickly dodged the stranglehold, but not without injury; the attacker had managed to inflict a superficial cut on his neck —
"Who's there? Come out of hiding. I hate rats"
"Your species' hydrokinesis ability has always been a real problem for me"
— A sweet voice came from atop the roof. She sat there, illuminated by the moonlight, while her dark hair—which seemed to absorb the light—fell across her forehead with almost geometric precision, moving with the wind. She was a woman of average height, and she wore nothing extravagant other than knives on her belt. She possessed that timeless elegance, skin that seemed to repel any shadow, and dark, almond-shaped eyes that held an imperturbable calm, framing a face of soft yet determined features —
"I came here for something that belongs to us"
"Oh, really? What could it be? I don't think it's on this ship, —she smiled—,because everything on this ship belongs to me"
— The woman's response to those words was a devastating attack: three blades flew toward the being, who deflected them with nonchalance. He responded by throwing his trident, but she dodged it with a fluid movement, closing the distance for a frontal assault —
"How stupid of you to throw your weapon"
"Do you even know who you're fighting?"
— He said with furrowed brows, raising his trident in his hand to clash weapons with his enemy's daggers.
The two pushed each other back, the woman more so than the man, stepping back and sizing each other up, and it continued like that until that being sighed —.
"I hate overtime. No one warned me there'd be an enemy of this caliber. The kid's no problem, but you're already getting on my nerves"
— He began backing up toward the ship's rail, standing on the —
"Maybe next time, if ordered to"
— Those were his last words before he jumped into the lake and vanished.
The woman didn't seem to think much of it; she simply entered the treasury and took the girl without even pausing, while Krax was already in the forest, covered in blood, struggling to breathe and move, hurrying toward his companions —.