Templar's Creed

Chapter 22

Giovanni's eyes searched for Antonio in the chaos, the man who had orchestrated this atrocity. The Templar leader had retreated, his smug expression replaced with one of fear as he realized the depth of the Assassin's wrath. The ship groaned and creaked under the weight of their battle, the very wood seeming to weep at the loss of innocence it had borne witness to.

Giovanni's blade was a blur as he sliced through the remaining Templars, his path to Antonio clearing like a plague before him. The air grew thick with the scent of blood and fear, a potent mix that fueled his rage. The deck was a sea of bodies, a testament to the fury that had been unleashed.

Giovanni's eyes locked onto Antonio as he sliced through the last of the Templars between them. The hatred that burned in his soul was a living, breathing entity, demanding satisfaction for the pain it had endured. Antonio, realizing his folly, attempted to retreat, his once-confident strides now those of a man fleeing his own shadow. But there was no escape from the fury that was the Assassin.

Their final clash was a blur of steel and fury. Antonio's fear was palpable, his once-precise movements now erratic as he struggled to maintain his footing on the blood-slicked deck. Each strike, each parry, was a silent shout of defiance against the tide of anger that washed over him. Yet, with every step back he took, Giovanni's rage grew, swelling like a storm about to break.

The Templar leader stumbled, his eyes wide with terror as he realized he had nowhere left to run. Giovanni's blade sang a song of vengeance as it arced through the air, aimed directly at Antonio's heart. The man's eyes searched for mercy, but all he found was a void, a pit of hatred that had swallowed any semblance of humanity the Assassin had once held for him.

Giovanni's sword met Antonio's desperate block, the impact sending a shockwave through both their arms. The Templar's blade shattered under the force, the shards flying like glittering shrapnel. Antonio's scream of pain and fear was music to the Assassin's ears as he stepped in, his own sword plunging into the man's chest. "You will never harm my family again," Giovanni snarled, his voice thick with emotion as he twisted the sword, ensuring a slow and painful death.

Antonio's eyes grew wide, his mouth opening in a silent scream. His body convulsed, a marionette dancing on the strings of agony. The crimson stain grew, spreading like a bloom of dark roses across his tunic. His grip on his sword faltered, the weapon clattering to the deck.

Giovanni's blade was a blur of motion, a silent scream of fury and loss. He twisted the sword, ensuring that Antonio would feel every ounce of pain he had wrought upon his family. The Templar's knees buckled, his legs giving way beneath him. He slumped to the ground, his lifeblood pooling around him.

Giovanni didn't stop there. He straddled Antonio, his grip on the sword hilt tightening as he raised it again. "You will never touch them," he hissed, each word a curse. "You will never take from me again." With a snarl, he brought the blade down in a vicious arc, cleaving through flesh and bone. The Templar's eyes rolled back in his head, his body going limp.

The ship's crew and the remaining Templars watched in horror, the power of his rage a palpable force that seemed to hold the very air captive. They knew that to cross him now would mean certain death. Slowly, the cacophony of battle faded into silence, leaving only the lapping of the waves and the gasping breaths of the survivors.

Giovanni staggered back, his blade dripping with Antonio's blood. His eyes searched the carnage for any sign of Claudia, hope and dread warring within him. He found her, crumpled on the deck, the light in her eyes extinguished. With a wail that seemed to come from the very depths of his soul, he dropped to his knees beside her, cradling her in his arms.

The ship's surviving crew looked on in a mix of awe and terror. They knew not to approach the grieving Assassin, whose eyes were as cold as the steel he wielded. The only sounds that pierced the silence were the cries of the dying and the gentle lap of the sea against the ship's hull, a cruel reminder of the world that continued to turn despite the tragedy unfolding before them.

Giovanni's mind raced, the pieces of the Templars' plan falling into place like the tumblers of a lock. They had used his love for his family as bait, luring him into a trap from which there was no escape. But he was not a man to be contained. With a snarl, he made a decision that would alter the course of his life forever.

Ignoring the gaping wound in his soul, he laid Claudia's lifeless body gently on the deck. "I will avenge you," he murmured, his voice hoarse with grief. "I will not rest until every one of them has felt my wrath." He turned to the ship's crew, their eyes wide with terror. "Take us back to Florence," he ordered, his voice cold and commanding.

The ship's surviving Ottoman sailors, now under his command, moved with newfound urgency. They knew the wrath of the Assassin was something to fear, and they had no wish to incur it further. The vessel creaked and groaned as it turned, the wind carrying them back to the city they had so recently fled from.

Giovanni's eyes never left the horizon, his thoughts a tumultuous storm. The loss of Elena, Federico's unjust death, the revelation of his wife's fate, Mario's sacrifice, and now Claudia's death, it was almost too much to bear. Yet, he knew he had to be strong for Ezio, for Petruccio, for the future of their family. The ship sliced through the water, a silent sentinel of their sorrow.