The dull thud of Aektal's severed head rolling onto the wooden floor echoed off the damp dungeon walls. Kaelith leaned against the wall to keep from collapsing to his knees, the toll of pushing his blood magic to its absolute limits. The magic coursing through his veins had turned into liquid fire, scorching his muscles from the inside out. Cold sweat trickled down his temples, mixing with the dried bloodstains on his face before dripping from his chin. With a deep, wheezing breath, he fought past the stench of mold and sweat filling his lungs and clung to his willpower. His task was not yet finished.
Reaching into his cloak's inner pocket, he pulled out the cold, iron ring of keys he had just ripped from the corpse. "First Mate Aektal..." he muttered, casting a lifeless glance at the dead body on the floor. "Being stubborn enough to push me to this limit was your greatest mistake."
Advancing through the dungeon's suffocating darkness, he began unlocking the heavy iron padlocks one by one. The sharp clinking of metal mingled with the sobs of people who had been abandoned to despair for years. Some of the freed captives, unable to stand on their weakened legs, collapsed to the ground, clinging to Kaelith's boots and weeping with gratitude. As an old woman grasped Kaelith's cloak with trembling hands, she sobbed in a frail voice, "Goddess Serenithe heard my prayers... May the Goddess pave your way, may whatever you wish for come true!"
Kaelith, however, merely looked down at them with hollow eyes.How pathetic they are, he thought to himself. Neither a goddess from the heavens nor divine justice sent me.
He turned to the crowd. The freezing coldness in his voice sliced through the brief joy in the air like a blade. "If you let your guard down, only your corpses will leave this ship. The mercenaries and the Captain up there are most likely aware of what's happening. Turn everything you find on the ground into a weapon. If you don't fight for your lives, you'll sink to the bottom of the ocean tonight."
His eyes found that massive silhouette in the darkest corner of the dungeon, anchored to the wall with chains much thicker than the rest. As he approached this broad-shouldered young man, who stood around 1.95 meters tall, he slipped the key into the lock and met the man's feral glare with equal harshness.
"I kept my word," Kaelith whispered. "If I make a promise, those chains are broken, no matter the cost."
The moment the lock clicked open, the muscles in the massive man's arms tensed, bulging as if they were about to tear his skin. The man grabbed the heavy iron mask—which had imprisoned his face and prevented him from speaking for months—with his bare hands. The ear-piercing sound of bending metal echoed through the dungeon, and the shattered mask fell to the floorboards.
"AHAHAH!" The tall man's laughter was booming enough to rattle the ship's keel. "FINALLY! I'VE BEEN LIVING LIKE A PIG FOR MONTHS!" He turned to Kaelith with a bloody rage in his eyes. "MAGE! GRANT ME YOUR NAME!"
"Kaelith."
"Thanks, Kaelith!" the huge man said, cracking his neck. A pure desire for violence gleamed in his eyes. "Now, I want to crush the skulls of all the soldiers on this damned ship with my bare hands."
When the man headed for the stairs like an unstoppable force, Kaelith didn't intervene; instead, he calculated in his mind the shield this unbridled fury would create for him. He quickly turned to the other captives, his voice manipulative and provocative: "If you want freedom, walk the bloody path this man paves. Fall behind, and you die."
The captives charged toward the stairs, following Boran as a bloodthirsty mob. As he climbed the narrow, creaking steps, Boran slowed his pace and looked over his shoulder at Kaelith. A twisted smile spread across his face. "I'm surprised you care about us, Kaelith. Judging by your attire and your ice-cold demeanor, the savior role doesn't suit you at all... But I won't lie, I like it. My name is Boran. We'll have time to talk after we drench this ship in blood!"
Boran... Kaelith thought to himself. Thinking I care about the insects here is a stupidity as massive as your stature.
When they reached the first deck, an eerie, profound silence dominated the surroundings. Only the groaning of the wood against the waves could be heard. Boran furrowed his brows. "Where are they, Kaelith?"
Kaelith had caught the metallic scent of danger. "If you charge in recklessly, you'll dig graves for all of us," he hissed at Boran. Then he turned to the crowd behind him. "I will go out first. When I draw their attention, you will rush the deck without looking back and surround them." As Boran opened his mouth to object, Kaelith grabbed him by his armor. "If you don't want to commit suicide, stick to my plan."
Leaving him behind, Kaelith climbed the stairs to the upper deck with heavy steps. The door was shut tight.
So you are waiting for your prey... he smiled in the dark. Let's go then. He placed his hand on the cold wooden knob. He held his breath and, with a single, fierce kick, threw the door open as if tearing it from its hinges.
The scene on the deck was the exact trap he had expected. Under the torchlight piercing the night's darkness, dozens of mercenaries had formed a flawless crescent formation, gleaming steel in their hands. Standing at the very back of them all, with a sickly smile on his face, the Captain drew his sword from its scabbard slowly, as if savoring the moment.
"Welcome, Kaelith..."