Templar's Creed

Chapter 40

The fight outside was intense, but Edward's mind was focused solely on the task ahead. John Cockram was a brute, but he had a cunning that made him dangerous. As Edward parried and thrust, he watched for an opening, waiting for the right moment to strike. It came when Cockram stumbled over a fallen statue, his sword arm momentarily unguarded. Edward didn't hesitate, driving his blade through the man's chest with a swift, brutal precision. Cockram's eyes went wide with shock before the light in them faded to nothing.

Josiah Burgess, ever the strategist, had been watching the battle unfold, waiting for the perfect opportunity. But Edward had other plans. He called out to Mr. Kenway, who threw him a smoke bomb. Edward caught it with a grin and tossed it at the Templar leader's feet. The bomb exploded in a cloud of thick, choking smoke, and Edward took advantage of the confusion, slicing through the air where he knew Burgess would be. The sound of steel meeting bone was followed by a gurgled scream as the smoke cleared to reveal Burgess on the ground, his life's essence pooling around him.

Burgess, blinded by his own rage, didn't see the danger coming. Edward's crew had been holding their own against the Templar forces, and now they turned their attention to the bully. They descended on him like a pack of wolves on a weakened prey. Josiah's sword swung wildly, but it was no match for the coordinated assault. With a sickening crunch, a pirate's blade found its way through Burgess' neck, and his head toppled from his shoulders.

With their leader defeated, the remaining Templars began to waver, their confidence shattered. Edward saw his chance and roared, charging into the fray with renewed vigor. The tide of the battle turned as the pirates' morale soared. One by one, the Templars fell, their cries of defiance silenced by the ringing of steel and the thud of bodies hitting the ground.

Aveline took advantage of the distraction to slip into the chamber, her heart racing. The Sage was there, an old man bound to a stone altar, his eyes filled with fear and resignation. "You must be the one," he whispered, his voice frail. "The map, please."

Edward and Mr. Kenway fought their way to the chamber's entrance, their swords and pistols leaving a trail of incapacitated Templars in their wake. "Aveline! Are you alright?" Edward called out, his eyes searching the smoke-filled corridor.

Her emerald eyes peered out from the shadows. "I have the artifact," she said, her voice strained. "But we must go now. More Templars will be here soon."

Edward nodded, his eyes flicking to the Sage. The old man's eyes were closed, his chest rising and falling shallowly. The pirate stepped into the chamber, the weight of the moment settling on his shoulders like an iron yoke. The artifact was a crystal skull, pulsing with an eerie light that seemed to beckon to him. Aveline had managed to free the Sage from his bonds, and the old man clutched the skull with trembling hands.

As the group prepared to leave, a new threat emerged from the shadows—Kenneth Abrahams, a Templar who had been lying in wait. Tall and lean, with cold, calculating eyes, he was a stark contrast to the brutish Cockram. His blade was as sharp as his wit, and he spoke with the confidence of a man who knew his enemy's every move before it was made.

"Edward Teach," he called out, his voice echoing through the chamber. "You've come a long way for something that doesn't belong to you. Give us the artifact, and I'll spare your lives."

Edward's gaze didn't leave the skull. "This is bigger than all of us," he said, his voice firm. "The knowledge it holds could change the world."

Abrahams stepped forward, his sword still pointed at Aveline. "Your world perhaps," he said with a sneer. "But our world will remain in order. Now, give it to me."

Edward stepped between Aveline and Abrahams, his own sword raised. "You're too late," he said, his voice as unyielding as the stone beneath them. "The Sage is ours."

Abrahams's smile was cold and patronizing. "You think you know what you're dealing with, pirate? This is not a treasure hunt. This is a battle for the very fate of humanity."

Edward felt the weight of the skull in his hand, the pulse of power thrumming through it resonating with his own determination. "I know exactly what I'm dealing with," he said, his eyes never leaving Abrahams'. "And I'm not giving you anything."

Abrahams' smile faded, replaced by a look of cold anger. With a roar, he charged, his sword a blur of steel. Edward met him with a clang, their blades locking in a fierce embrace. The Sage's eyes were closed, his lips moving in a silent chant that seemed to infuse Edward with a newfound strength.

Mr. Kenway and Aveline stepped back, giving their captain room to fight. They knew that Edward was the best among them, a master swordsman whose skills had been honed by years at sea and the cutthroat world of piracy. Yet, even he seemed to be struggling against Abrahams, who fought with a precision and ferocity that was almost inhuman.

Their swords clashed and danced, sparks flying as metal met metal in a symphony of deadly intent. The air in the chamber grew hot with the exertion of their fight, the echoes of their grunts and the ringing steel reverberating off the ancient stone walls. Edward could feel the power of the artifact coursing through him, pushing him to fight harder, to strike faster, but Abrahams was no ordinary adversary.

Suddenly, Kenneth's gaze flickered to Aveline. In that split second, Edward felt a cold, sinking dread. Before he could react, Abrahams disengaged, pivoting on his heel with a speed that belied his size. He lunged at Aveline, his sword flashing in the dim light. Edward's scream of "No!" was lost in the ringing of steel as the Templar's blade sliced through the air, finding its mark in Aveline's throat.

Her eyes widened in shock, a gurgle of blood bubbling from her lips as she staggered backward, the map slipping from her fingers. Edward watched in horror as she fell, her lifeblood spilling onto the ancient stone floor. The Sage's chanting grew louder, a desperate plea to the gods that seemed to resonate with the very air around them. The crew stared in disbelief, their rage boiling over into a roar of vengeance.

Edward's world narrowed to a pinpoint, his fury a white-hot blaze. He swung his sword in a wild arc, forcing Abrahams to retreat. The pirate's eyes were wild, a mix of grief and rage that made him a terrifying sight. The Sage's chant grew more urgent, the skull in Edward's hand pulsing with an intensity that was almost painful.

With a roar, Edward charged the Templar, their swords clashing in a blur. The air was thick with the scent of blood and the metallic tang of fear. Each strike was met with a parry, each parry with a counter, as the two men danced a deadly ballet of steel and death. The pirate's crew, driven by a newfound fury, fought with renewed vigor, pushing back the remaining Templars.