Fate of the Marked

Fatal Flaw

Before we begin, I made a mistake in the previous chapter. Leaving quite a lot of parts that should be in that chapter. Please re-read the previous chapter, especially toward the end-part. Thank you!

The sea roared once more, louder and closer, the sound reverberating through the ship as if the very ocean were alive with fury. A massive wave surged forward, crashing over the side of the deck. But instead of washing us away, it stopped mid-motion, swirling in a suspended vortex.

At the center of the chaos stood Torran, his hand outstretched, his fingers curling as if gripping something unseen. With a flick of his wrist, the swirling water trapped three of the Sea People, encasing them in a sphere of liquid prison. They thrashed and snarled, their sharp tridents stabbing uselessly against the watery walls.

Torran's voice cut through the storm, gruff but steady. "Back to the depths where you belong."

He threw his hand to the side with force, and the water responded like an extension of his body. The sphere, along with its trapped captives, soared over the edge of the ship, vanishing into the dark, churning sea.

Rowan moved next, a blur of precision and efficiency. I barely registered his motion—just a swift thrust and spin of his lance—and suddenly, three of the Sea People lay crumpled on the deck, lifeless. He barely spared them a glance, his focus already shifting to the next threat.

But then I felt it—a presence too close.

I turned just in time to see one of them lunging toward me, its trident glinting in the storm's dim light. Its jagged teeth were bared in a snarl, its slitted eyes locked onto mine. The weapon's sharp tips hurtled toward my face, too fast for me to react. My mind screamed, but my body froze, the world slowing to a crawl.

A dull thud snapped me back to reality.

The Sea Person's head snapped to the side, an axe buried deep into its skull. Its body crumpled to the deck in a heap, the trident clattering harmlessly at my feet.

Eryon roared, charging into the fray like a whirlwind of fury. His second axe gleamed in his hand as he swung it with deadly precision, taking down the last of the creatures. His strikes were swift and brutal, his movements fluid and relentless.

The deck fell silent, save for the storm's howling wind and the rhythmic crash of waves.

"Try to keep up, my lady," Torran called out, his voice cutting through the wind and rain as he motioned for his crew to haul the Sea People's lifeless bodies overboard. The elves moved swiftly, their practiced efficiency evident in every motion as they disposed of the intruders into the dark waters below.

I swallowed hard, clutching my staff as Torran's words settled in. "Sorry," I mumbled, more to myself than to anyone else.

Torran didn't look back, already barking another order to his crew, but Rowan's gaze lingered. He didn't say a word, yet his expression—calm and inscrutable—seemed to weigh heavily on me. Was he judging me? Pitying me? Or simply observing? I couldn't tell.

I tightened my grip on my staff, the image of the trident hurtling toward my face flashing through my mind again. It was too close—far too close.

This is it, I thought bitterly. My fatal flaw.

My spells are strong, my mana nearly unmatched. But when the enemy gets too close, I hesitate. I freeze. And it nearly cost me.

My eyes darted toward Eryon, still standing near the edge of the deck, wiping the blood from his axe as if the chaos moments before hadn't fazed him at all. Then to Rowan, who was already scanning the stormy horizon for the next potential threat.