Templar's Creed

Chapter 41

Mr. Kenway saw the opportunity and took it, sneaking up behind Abrahams as Edward kept him distracted. With a swift and silent strike, he plunged his dagger into the Templar's back, the blade sinking deep. Abrahams staggered, his eyes widening in shock as he looked down at the crimson stain spreading across his shirt. Edward didn't hesitate, taking advantage of the distraction to deliver the final blow, his cutlass slicing through the man's chest and sending him to the ground with a wet thud.

The Sage's chant grew softer, his eyes fluttering open to reveal the depth of his horror and grief. "No," he whispered, his gaze flicking from Aveline's lifeless body to the skull. Edward's rage was now a maelstrom, threatening to consume him. He knelt beside Aveline, his hand shaking as he cradled her head, his eyes brimming with tears. "They will pay for this," he murmured, his voice thick with anger.

Mr. Kenway stepped over the fallen Templar, his own eyes dark with rage and sadness. He took the map from the ground, his gaze flicking to Edward. "We must go," he said, his voice low. "We can mourn her later."

Edward nodded, his jaw clenched tight. He stood, the skull in one hand and the map in the other, the weight of his grief and anger like a second skin. Together, they made their way back to the Jackdaw, the crew's shouts of victory a hollow echo in the jungle. The Sage stumbled along with them, his chanting now a mournful wail that seemed to pull at the very fabric of the island.

As they reached the shore, the sight that greeted them was one of chaos and destruction. The Jackdaw was a vision of fiery retribution, her cannons belching smoke and flame as she tore through the Templar fleet. The sea was a churning cauldron of splintered wood and screaming men, the air thick with the acrid smell of gunpowder. The pirate ship danced gracefully through the carnage, her sails tattered but her spirit unbroken.

In the midst of the battle, a monstrous warship emerged from the fog, her hull a stark white that contrasted sharply with the blood-red cross emblazoned on her sails. The Templar ship was a colossus, a floating bastion of iron and firepower that dwarfed the Jackdaw. Edward's heart sank as he recognized the ship from his nightmares, the very symbol of the enemy's might and relentless pursuit.

The warship's captain, a man with a scar running from his eye to his chin, grinned maliciously as he saw the pirates on the shore. "Fire!" he bellowed, and a moment later, a barrage of cannonballs screamed through the air, tearing through the Jackdaw's sails and hull. The ship lurched and shuddered under the relentless assault, her once-proud figurehead cracking and splintering.

The scarred captain's grin grew wider as he saw the horror on Edward's face. He knew the pirate captain had no escape, no way to outgun his monstrous vessel. With a roar of triumph, he ordered his ship to ramming speed, aiming for the helpless Jackdaw. Edward's crew scurried about, trying to make emergency repairs, but it was clear that she wouldn't survive another hit.

The warship's prow slammed into the Jackdaw with a sickening crunch, the impact sending a shockwave through Edward's very bones. The pirate ship groaned and splintered, her proud figurehead shattering into the sea as the two vessels locked together. The pirates watched in horror as the warship's crew swarmed over the sides, their swords and pistols glinting in the flickering firelight.

Mr. Kenway's eyes met Edward's, and he knew what had to be done. "Take the Sage," he yelled over the din. "I'll hold them off." Without a second thought, Edward handed the skull to the Sage, who clutched it to his chest, the light within it pulsing more rapidly than ever before. The old man's strength seemed to return as he nodded, determination etched on his face.

Mr Kenway turned back to the battle, his cutlass singing a deadly melody as he sliced through the first wave of Templar lar invaders. The ship's deck was slick with blood and the screams of dying men as the pirates and Templars clashed in a frenzy of steel and hatred. The Jackdaw groaned around them, her timbers splintering under the relentless assault of the enemy's boarding party.

Julien du Casse, the warship captain with a scar that twisted his face into a perpetual snarl, stepped forward, his eyes locked on Mr Kenway. The two men circled each other, their blades weaving a deadly dance of death. The air was thick with the smell of gunpowder and the acrid taste of fear. Edward watched, his heart racing, as the two men traded blows with a ferocity that belied their age.

"You're a fool to stand against us," du Casse sneered, his sword flashing in the light of the burning ship.

Mr. Kenway's reply was a roar of defiance as he charged, his blade a blur. The two men met in a clash of steel, sparks flying as their swords collided. The captain's scar twisted his smile into a grimace as he countered with a swift and brutal blow, aiming for Kenway's heart.

"You're too slow," du Casse jeered, his blade cutting a deadly arc. Kenway dodged just in time, his eyes never leaving the captain's. The pirate's agility was a stark contrast to the Templar's brute force, and for a moment, it seemed as though he had the upper hand. But Mr Kenway knew better; he had seen the cold precision in the captain's eyes, the kind that didn't miss.

With a grunt, Kenway parried another strike, their swords locking for a brief instant. "You're wrong," he panted. "This isn't just about us." His gaze flicked to the skull clutched in the Sage's arms. "This is about the future."

Du Casse's smile was a twisted mockery. "The future," he spat. "A future ruled by your kind? Chaos and anarchy, that's all you bring." His sword slammed into Kenway's, sending a jolt of pain up the pirate's arm. "Give me the artifact, and I'll end this swiftly."

Mr. Kenway's eyes were like ice chips, his voice a low growl. "You'll never get it." He lunged again, but the captain was too fast. The Templar's blade darted like a snake, slicing through the air and burying itself in Kenway's chest. The pirate staggered back, his eyes wide with shock and pain.

"Kenway, no!" Edward shouted, his rage overwhelming him. He rushed towards the dueling pair, but the Sage's hand shot out, holding him back. "You must not," the old man whispered urgently. "We cannot lose you too."

On the deck, Mr. Kenway's eyes locked with du Casse's, and for a moment, time seemed to stand still. The pirate's hand tightened around his sword hilt, his muscles straining with the effort to hold his ground. Then, with a twist of his wrist and a snarl of pain, Kenway dislodged the blade and brought his own sword down in a swift, deadly arc. But it was too late. Du Casse had anticipated the move and sidestepped, his counterstrike unerring.

"For Aveline!" Kenway roared, his blade slashing through the air.

Julien du Casse's grin was feral, his scar a vivid crimson against the backdrop of the flaming sea. "For the greater good!" he bellowed, his sword catching Kenway's in a shower of sparks. The captain's eyes were alight with a fanatic's zeal, his every move calculated and precise.

Mr. Kenway staggered, his own blade slipping from his grip. He knew he was outmatched, but he had bought Edward precious time. "The greater good," he chuckled, a wet sound that ended in a cough. "Is that what you call slavery?"

Du Casse's smile grew wider, his blade hovering over the fallen pirate like the grim reaper's scythe. "I call it order," he said, his voice cold and final. "A world without chaos."

Kenway's eyes never left the Templar captain's, even as the light began to fade from them. "A world without freedom," he gasped, "is no world at all."

Julien du Casse studied the pirate before him, his scar a stark contrast against his flushed face. For a brief moment, something flickered in his eyes—respect. Kenway had fought with a passion that du Casse hadn't seen in an adversary in years. With a nod, he acknowledged the pirate's valor before raising his sword for the final blow.

The blade descended, and Kenway's world went silent, his heart a lead weight in his chest. Time seemed to slow as the steel sliced through the air, aimed at the very essence of what they were fighting for. Kenway's eyes, filled with determination and a hint of regret, never left du Casse's as the blade met flesh.

Du Casse's expression was a strange mix of triumph and something else—perhaps a flicker of respect for the pirate's unyielding spirit. The scar across his face twisted as he pulled the blade free, and Kenway slumped to the deck, his life's blood painting the wood a deep shade of crimson. The captain looked down at the dying pirate, the fire in his eyes fading to a dull ember. "You were a worthy adversary," he conceded, his voice low.