Templar's Creed

Chapter 21

With the captain down, the remaining sailors had no leader, and their will to fight evaporated. Some threw down their weapons and begged for mercy, while others tried to flee, only to be cut down by the swift and unforgiving blade of the Assassin. The ship's crew were no match for the wrath of a man who had lost everything.

Giovanni's eyes searched the horizon, his thoughts racing. The ship was their only hope of escaping Florence and the clutches of the Templars, but the journey to Constantinople was fraught with danger. He had to secure their vessel, ensure that it was seaworthy, and navigate the treacherous waters that lay ahead.

As the ship pulled away from the docks, the sounds of battle grew faint, swallowed by the dark embrace of the night. The crew, now under his command, worked tirelessly to set sail, their fear of the Assassin's blade a more potent motivator than any whip. The wind picked up, filling the sails with a promise of freedom.

But fate had other plans. Just as the city's silhouette began to fade into the horizon, a thunderous impact sent shockwaves through the vessel. The ship lurched violently, sending men and supplies flying. The air was filled with the splintering of wood and the screams of the panicked sailors.

Giovanni's eyes snapped to the source of the chaos: a second ship, its bow jutting into their hull like the fang of a sea serpent. Templar banners fluttered in the breeze, their crimson crosses taunting him from afar. His heart sank as he realized the extent of the Templars' reach, they had anticipated his escape.

The deck grew slick with blood as the Templars swarmed over the side, their swords flashing in the moonlight. The Ottoman sailors, caught by surprise, were cut down mercilessly. The air was thick with the coppery scent of slaughter, mingling with the salty brine of the sea. Giovanni's rage grew, a bonfire in his chest that fueled his every move.

Antonio Maffei, the leader of the attack, emerged from the fray, his sword stained with the lifeblood of the innocent. His eyes, cold and calculating, found Giovanni's across the carnage. The two men locked gazes, the hatred between them palpable.

Giovanni's heart skipped a beat as he recognized the sadistic gleam in Antonio's eyes. The Templar strode forward, his boots splashing in the crimson pool that was spreading across the deck. "So, we meet again," he sneered, his voice thick with the satisfaction of victory.

Giovanni's eyes searched the chaos for his daughter, but the battle was too fierce to spot them. He knew he had to eliminate the head of the snake before he could save the tail. "You will pay for what you've done," he vowed, his voice a low growl.

Antonio's smile grew colder, a twisted reflection of the moon above. "I've only just begun," he taunted, gesturing to the destruction around them. "Your family's suffering is a mere appetizer to the feast of vengeance I will serve."

Giovanni's eyes searched for Claudia, desperation gripping him like a vice. In the chaos, he spotted her, standing at the railing with a Templar at her side. The sight of her, so small and vulnerable, filled him with a rage so potent it could shatter mountains.

Antonio Maffei, the man who had orchestrated this nightmare, stepped forward. His movements were a taunt, a dance of death that sent chills down Giovanni's spine. He knew what was coming, could feel it in the very air around him. Yet, he was powerless to stop it.

With a vicious sneer, Antonio reached out and grabbed Claudia by the hair, yanking her back so she faced her father. "This is what happens to those who stand in the way of the Templar order," he snarled, his grip on her neck tightening.

Giovanni's world narrowed to a single point: the cold, gleaming steel of Antonio's sword, the malice in his eyes, and the fear in his daughter's. Time slowed to a crawl, each heartbeat echoing through the ship like the toll of a funeral bell. In that frozen moment, he knew what was coming. He knew he had to act.

With a roar that seemed to shake the very heavens, Giovanni launched himself at Antonio, his blade a silver arc of fury. The Templar leader's grin never wavered, his eyes glinting with the thrill of the kill. The impact was explosive, the two men colliding with the force of a thunderclap.

The fight was swift and brutal, a dance of death that played out on the blood-soaked deck. Each strike was a silent scream of agony, a declaration of war that resonated through the night air. Antonio's blade was a serpent, slithering and weaving in a mesmerizing pattern that seemed impossible to predict. Yet, for every move Antonio made, Giovanni had a counter, his rage giving him a strength that defied his grief.

Their swords clashed in a shower of sparks, the sound echoing through the ship like the peal of doom. Antonio's smug grin never wavered, his eyes alight with the satisfaction of holding all the cards. But Giovanni was not a man to be underestimated. Every blow he dealt was a promise of vengeance, each step he took brought him closer to the man who had taken everything from him.

Then, in a heartbeat, the unthinkable happened. A flash of movement at the edge of his vision—a Templar soldier lunging for Claudia. Time slowed, the world around them fading to a blur as Giovanni's heart leaped into his throat. He threw himself to the side, his blade whipping out to intercept the blow. But he was a fraction too late.

The soldier's sword pierced Claudia's side, a crimson blossom blooming on her dress. Her eyes, wide with shock and pain, met her father's for the briefest of moments. Then she was falling, a lifeless ragdoll in the Templar's arms. The sound of her body hitting the deck was like the crack of doom, echoing through the night and shattering the very fabric of Giovanni's soul.

Giovanni's fury erupted like a volcano, a fiery torrent of rage that consumed everything in its path. His blade was a whirlwind of death, cutting down Templars with a ferocity that was almost inhuman. The deck was painted crimson with their blood, their screams a symphony of terror that seemed to fuel his strength. He moved like a specter, his eyes burning with the fire of a thousand suns.

The Templars fell before him like wheat before the scythe, their lives extinguished in an instant by the blade of an avenging angel. His grief and anger coalesced into a single, unstoppable force. The air was filled with the sound of steel on steel, the cries of the dying, and the thunder of his heartbeat. He was a storm, a maelstrom of vengeance that could not be contained.