𝗶𝗰𝗮𝗿𝘂𝘀 𝗳𝗮𝗹𝗹𝘀, luke castellan

ᴛᴡᴇɴᴛʏ-ꜰᴏᴜʀ

Ship of Carnage.

🌊

"DO WE HAVE TO DO EVERYTHING AROUND HERE?" Luke sighed, exasperated as he got up from his seat. His tone was a mixture of frustration and weary determination, the weight of their mission pressing heavily on his shoulders. The flickering lantern above cast a harsh light on his face, highlighting the lines of fatigue and tension etched into his features.

He extended a hand to Rory, who took it willingly, feeling the strength and resolve in his grip. As she steadied herself, she felt a comforting warmth from his touch. Chris, left to grumble on his own, muttered something under his breath, but Rory couldn't quite make out the words. His expression was one of sullen discontent.

Down here, in the dim and cramped quarters below deck, they had been relatively safe, sheltered from the worst of the fighting that raged above. The walls, though thin and creaking with every swell of the sea, had offered a flimsy barrier against the chaos outside. But it was clear now that their respite had come at a cost. Without their leadership, Kronos's army was useless, proving themselves incapable of achieving anything substantial in their absence. The so-called elite soldiers were little more than disorganized rabble without someone to order them around. They needed to get this ship back on track before they all died, ending their so-called golden age before it had even begun.

The trio made their way cautiously through the narrow passageways, the air growing colder and colder with each step. The ship groaned and creaked, as if protesting their presence, the wooden beams above them sagging.

As they ascended the stairs to the upper deck, the sounds of battle grew louder, more distinct. The roars of monsters and the cries of the dying mixed into a horrifying symphony that set Rory's nerves on edge. The sudden surge of sunlight as they emerged onto the deck was blinding, a stark contrast to the darkness below. Rory shielded her eyes, momentarily disoriented by the brightness. It was even worse for Luke and Chris however, their hands instinctively coming up to protect their eyes from the harsh glare.

The scene that greeted them was one of utter chaos. Everywhere they looked, golden dust filled the air as monsters met their demise, their bodies disintegrating upon death. Scylla's rapid movements were a blur of teeth and scales, her heads darting and snapping with terrifying speed. There was no time for proper focus, no moment of calm in which to gather their thoughts.

Rory's stomach churned at the sight of the carnage. She had seen battle before, but this was different. This was a slaughter, a brutal display of power that left her feeling small and helpless. The monsters, once terrifying in their own right, now seemed almost pitiable in the face of Scylla's relentless assault.

Amidst the chaos, Rory saw Chris being cornered by one of Scylla's heads. The creature's eyes gleamed with malice as it lunged towards him, its jaws open wide. Reacting swiftly, Luke drew his sword, Backbiter, and slashed at the creature. His aim was true, the blade slicing through the air with deadly precision. Scylla hissed in response, her head snapping back as the blade cut into her flesh. The creature was diverted but not defeated, her remaining heads continuing their assault on the ship and its crew.

Coughing amidst the swirling dust, Rory inadvertently inhaled some as a Dracanae was snatched right in front of her. The monster's demise was swift, its body turning to golden dust that mingled with the chaos in the air. Rory's lungs burned, and she fought to catch her breath, her vision momentarily blurred. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her eyes and regain her focus. The deck was a battlefield, a scene of utter carnage, and they were in the thick of it.

They moved as a united front, slashing through the encroaching monsters with a desperate determination. The clanging of their weapons against scales and bone filled the air, a relentless symphony of battle. Each swing of their weapons was driven by the urgent need to survive, to keep Scylla at bay. The ship rocked violently with each of Scylla's attacks, the timbers groaning under the strain. Rory's muscles screamed in protest, her arms heavy with fatigue, but she pushed on, refusing to give in.