It was the third day of the journey. In the dim lower deck of the ship, the heavy scent of intense sweat, dampness, and fermented cheap wine overpowered the salty tang of the sea. Kaelith, leaning his back against a wooden pillar in the corner, was quietly tending to his rock-hard hardtack and tasteless broth made from salted meat, while simultaneously eavesdropping on the crowded conversation at the table.
First Mate Aektal sat at the head of the large table filled with soldiers. After washing down the last bite of gruel in his wooden bowl with a large gulp of water, he cleared his throat.
"The wind is on our side," Aektal said in a deep voice, drawing the attention of those at the table. "If the Sea Mother does not turn her back on us and no mishaps occur, we will drop anchor safely in the ports of the Free City of Marituma within three or four days." He stood up and adjusted his cloak. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my hour of worship has arrived. I am retiring to my cabin to present myself before my god."
With Aektal out of sight, the mild air of discipline at the table dissipated instantly. The crude jokes of the mercenaries, the sound of fists slamming on the table, and the clinking of wooden mugs filled the deck.
However, at the other end of the table, tension was slowly mounting.
"Pour some more wine over here!" roared Yongite. The dwarf's thick, red beard was already soaked with spilled wine, and his eyes gleamed with the savagery brought on by drunkenness.
İlker pulled the clay jug in his hand back, a weary expression on his face. "How much more are you going to drink, man? I can't deal with your disgusting hangover state in the morning. The wine is gone."
Yongite's thick eyebrows furrowed. His fist slammed hard onto the table, knocking a few empty bowls to the floor. "I told you to give it to me, human bastard! Didn't they teach you to show respect to your elders?"
As soon as the words left his mouth, the dwarf grabbed the thick wooden mug in front of him and smashed it into İlker's face. The sound of wood striking flesh echoed across the deck. İlker, reeling from the exploding pain in his forehead, stumbled backward and collapsed to the ground.
Wasting no time, Yongite vaulted over the table, lunged onto İlker, and brought his calloused fist down on the boy's face. Though İlker groaned in pain, he didn't give up; using his legs, he managed to throw the dwarf off to the left side with all his might.
"You old dwarf!" shouted İlker, wiping the warm blood trickling from his nose to his chin with the back of his hand. "Attacking without regard for your height or your age!"
Kaelith slowly set his hardtack down on the table and began to watch the events unfold. The other mercenaries didn't lift a finger; some were laughing, others were placing bets. İlker was new to this crew, while everyone knew how fierce and troublesome Yongite was. İlker's attempt to fend for himself in this ruthless environment stirred a strange sense of respect within Kaelith.
Yongite was mad with rage. As he got up from the floor, he began hurling any wooden plates and empty bottles he could get his hands on at İlker. Ignoring the objects striking his stomach and leg, İlker lunged forward to make a move, but the dwarf dodged to the side with an agility that contradicted his clumsy appearance. He spat a hefty glob onto the floor and shot İlker a mocking glare.
"You're a kid born yesterday," hissed Yongite. "Who are you to mouth off to me like this!"
The game was over. Yongite gripped the heavy, steel-headed warhammer at his belt. Seeing this, İlker, driven by the instinct to survive, reached for the scabbard of a soldier next to him and swiftly drew the sword. The sharp metallic ring of the blade leaving the scabbard cut through the laughter on the deck like a knife.
This is the limit, thought Kaelith. One blow of the hammer or one swing of the sword... If someone didn't intervene, there would definitely be a corpse leaving this deck.
The dwarf once again employed one of his dirty fighting tactics. In less than a second, he opened a small vial on his belt and splashed its acidic, burning liquid directly into İlker's face.
Before İlker even had the chance to swing his sword, he covered his eyes with his hands and let out a scream of agony. Completely losing his vision, the young man was left defenseless. Yongite lunged forward ruthlessly and delivered a devastating blow to İlker's stomach with the haft of his hammer. The breath knocked out of him, İlker doubled over and collapsed to the floor.
Just as Kaelith instinctively lunged forward, the calloused hand of a hulking soldier landed on his shoulder like a heavy boulder.
"Stay out of it, kid," the man said with a dangerous calmness. "This fight is between the two of them. They will pay the blood price."
Kaelith froze in his tracks. Something inside him was urging him on. If I don't interfere now, I will lose a potential friend, he thought to himself. İlker had helped him when he was in a tough spot. But then he hesitated. A cold rationality enveloped his mind. Is a human life really that important? Is it worth it?
Right at that moment, that dark, familiar, and chilling whisper echoed from the depths of his mind. The voice was not like a thought, but rather a physical pressure scratching directly inside his brain.
KAELITH... I AM TELLING YOU, YOU CANNOT INTERFERE. STOP THINKING ABOUT SUCH WEAKNESSES. YOU MUST NOW BE AN EMOTIONLESS SHELL. IT IS NOT WORTH WASTING YOUR ENERGY ON THESE INSIGNIFICANT PIECES OF MEAT.
Kaelith staggered backward, clutching his head with both hands. "Damn it, shut up already! Why are you inside my mind?" he whispered through gritted teeth.
"AHHH!" Kaelith's vision began to darken as he tried to silence the ringing echoing in his head. Through his blurring sight, he saw Yongite walking with heavy steps toward İlker on the ground. The dwarf was raising his hammer into the air with both hands to deliver the final blow.
"No..." groaned Kaelith with difficulty. "Let me go... I have to save him... He seems like a good person."
The dark entity's voice echoed this time like a laugh, full of mockery and absolute authority. Kaelith's breath caught in his throat.
AHH, KAELITH... FROM NOW ON, YOU WILL ONLY LISTEN TO MY WORD. DO YOU UNDERSTAND? MY WORD!
In desperation, Kaelith tried to raise his arm and make one last move toward İlker. But the tips of his outstretched fingers went numb, the sounds on the deck morphed into a muffled hum, and within seconds, the darkness swallowed his consciousness entirely, dragging him into a bottomless void.