The Sins of the God King

Chapter 6: Helias

As the moonlight danced upon the crashing waves, Helias and Sartos stood at the edge of the shores, their eyes fixed upon the approaching fleet of ships.

With each passing moment, more ships appeared on the horizon, a foreboding line growing thicker and darker against the setting sun. The soldiers, arrayed in multiple rows along the sandy shore, began to release their battle cries, their voices merging into a cacophonous roar that reverberated across the shores. The rhythmic thumping of their feet against the ground echoed like a drumbeat of war.

General Sartos stood amidst them, his gaze fixed on the distant vessels. He noticed, with growing unease, that he was the only general present. The absence of his peers was a stark reminder of their collective underestimation of the enemy. The lords' overconfidence was manifest in their casual approach to this confrontation.

As time passed, the battle cries and ground-thumping began to wane, a palpable tension creeping into the ranks. The Navo'ri ships were more numerous than in any previous assault, their numbers swelling ominously on the horizon. A wave of fear rippled through the soldiers, their initial bravado eroding in the face of the unexpected armada.

"Get ready!" Sartos shouted, his voice cutting through the mounting dread. As he spoke, multiple scarlet scars emerged across his neck and shoulders, a distinctive trait of the battleborn. The scars that their ancerstors gain in their life time will mark on the living kins when in battle. They also endowed with the cumulative skills and instincts of their forebears, a formidable advantage against any foe.

As the first of the enemy ships drew closer, the air grew thick with anticipation. Sartos could feel the presence of his ancestors, their spirits rallying behind him, infusing him with their valor and wisdom. The clash that awaited would be fierce, but with the blood of the battleborn running through his veins, Sartos knew they would fight with the ferocity of ten armies.

Helias, his hand trembling with anticipation, retrieved his worn out wisk and jotter. With steady determination, he began to paint the intricate image of a creature that had haunted the nightmares of sailors for centuries—

a fearsome KRAKEN, a behemoth of the deep sea.

Every stroke of Helias' brush imbued the painting with his energy, his life force flowing into the conjured image. The kraken took shape, its massive tentacles curling and writhing, as if it were eager to be unleashed upon the encroaching armada.

With a final stroke, Helias completed the art, and a surge of power coursed through his veins. He summoned every ounce of his conjuring abilities, channeling his strength into bringing the kraken to life. The very air around them seemed to tremble with the weight of his conjuring.

As the kraken materialized before their eyes, an aura of primal energy enveloped the shoreline. Its massive form towered over the sea, casting an ominous shadow that stretched across the horizon. The kraken's eyes gleamed with a ferocity that mirrored the determination in Helias' own gaze.

With a commanding gesture from Helias, the unleashed kraken lunged forward, its monstrous tentacles unfurling with a thunderous roar. The sea churned and swirled as the kraken descended upon the approaching fleet. Its mighty appendages thrashed and coiled, ensnaring ship after ship, dragging them down into the depths with an unrelenting fury.

The resounding cries of panic echoed across the water as the enemy vessels succumbed to the wrath of the kraken. The sound of wood splintering and steel scraping against flesh filled the air, intermingling with the anguished screams of hundreds of men. Helias could feel the energy draining from him with each ship that succumbed to the kraken's relentless grip.