"What was that? An explosion!"
"The warehouse—it's gone!"
"Blasted to pieces!"
"Lord of Light—which bastard did this?"
The sudden blast caught everyone off guard. Shockwaves ripped through the island like raging waves, hurling bodies through the air, scattering formations, shattering the discipline that had been holding the soldiers together. Blazing debris—wood, stone, flesh—shot in every direction, painting the night in shades of orange and red and the particular black of things that had been whole and were now broken.
The situation, which had been calming and settling, erupted into chaos once more.
"Where's the Captain?" "What are our orders?" Soldiers scattered, disoriented, leaderless.
Then—another explosion. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. BOOM. "FIRE THE CANNONS!" "OPEN FIRE!"
The Crimson Serpent fleet unleashed hell. Gunpowder ignited, the flames catching and spreading. Black iron spheres slammed into buildings, into formations, into anything that stood. Wood splintered. Sand sprayed. Bodies ceased to be.
Crimson painted the ground. Even that was obliterated by the next volley.
"PIRATES!" "HOLD FORMATION! WE'RE BEING RAIDED!" Soldiers braced, their shields rising, their spears lowering. Too late. "KILL THEM!" "LOOT EVERYTHING!" Pirates poured onto the islands—weapons raised, bloodlust blazing, greed hungry.
The carnage reignited. Watchtowers burned, their timbers cracking, their frames collapsing, their lights going out one by one. Living quarters collapsed. Establishments that had stood for years became rubble in hours.
Soldiers fought like soldiers—trained, disciplined, sadhakas. Their movements were precise, their strikes measured, their power the thing that had been given and was being used. Kiriya and mantra cut down pirate pests by the dozen. Fire erupted from nothing, consuming, devouring. Ice froze men where they stood. Water drowned them on dry land. Earth crushed bones to powder.
But the pirates kept coming.
Greed made them fearless. Lust for wealth made them blind. And through it all, something moved in silence.
A flick of motion. A spray of blood. Another soldier gone.
"You—pirate insect—" A beam of blue ice shot toward Dunstan. Shit. I can't dodge. He closed his eyes. The cold never came. When he opened them, the soldiers lay dead. A dark brown bolt faded from where it had intercepted the ice. Captain. He really is the Crimson Ghost. Dunstan's lips curved.
The carnage continued through the night. Pale silver moonlight bathed the islands. Orange-red flames danced in counterpoint—light and shadow, life and death, beauty and horror. Screams filled the sky. Soldiers burning. Pirates freezing. Men drowning on solid ground. Bodies crushed to pulp. The ground drank blood. And the Crimson Ghost moved unseen, unceasing, unstoppable.
.....
Dawn approached.
Toric squatted amid the ruin, chest heaving. Bodies lay in heaps—pirate and soldier indistinguishable. Flesh and cloth and bone, all mixed together, all equal in death. Buildings were rubble. Establishments were ash. The island had been scoured.
We lost a lot of people.
He watched Dunstan move among the wounded, distributing healing tonics. Men with missing arms. Missing legs. Missing eyes. But the chests. Wooden crates lined the beach, their lids splintered, their contents spilling. More emerged from the smoke, carried by grinning pirates. We looted a fortune. His eyes sparkled.
"TORIC, YOU BASTARD!" A burned man stormed toward him, his face a ruin of fresh scars—testament to the night's violence. "Look at my face!" Toric waved a dismissive hand. "Not interested. I'm into women, dumbass." "WHAT—" The man's voice cracked. "The burn! Your fault! Your fault!" He turned to the others. "Brothers! We've all lost something tonight! They owe us!" He pointed at Toric. "FIFTY PERCENT! Give us half the plunder!"
Murmurs rippled through the crowd. Eyes turned calculating. Greedy. "We were hired! We deserve more!" "TRUE!"
We're outnumbered. Too many of our people died. Dunstan watched the hired pirates, their faces hungry, their loyalty transactional. Toric smiled. The burned man's face twitched. "Why are you smiling—"
His head hit the ground. A boy appeared where no one had been. Words muttered. Three dark earth spears manifested—impaling the three pirates who had spoken. "I, Toric, greet the Captain of the Crimson Serpent Pirates!" Toric bowed. Dunstan followed.
The crowd froze. Processing. Understanding. A boy appeared from nowhere. Killed four men like swatting flies. And Toric—the Master, the fighter, the terror—bowed to him. "Ghost." Someone whispered. "Crimson Ghost." "He's real." They bowed. All of them. Fear and reverence in equal measure.
"Load the ships. One more island." Ashan's voice was calm and absolute. "Dunstan. That chest. My cabin." "Yes, Captain." No questions. No hesitation.
I wonder how much the vestiges will fetch.
After that, no one questioned authority. The pirates moved fast—stripping the island of everything valuable. Food. Clothes. Weapons. Utensils. Anything that could be carried. "Let's plunder the last island!" Toric raised a mug, his voice already drunk. "Raise the name of the Crimson Serpent Pirates!" "YEAH!" "TO THE CRIMSON SERPENT PIRATES!" "TO THE CRIMSON GHOST!"
The fleet sailed into deep, dark waters.
.....
Ashan settled into sadhana. The sin cycle is turning—greed and lust in endless rotation. The raid succeeded. But the next island is the main base. Can't relax.
Knock. Knock. Knock. "Captain!" Dunstan's voice carried urgency. "Problem!" Ashan's face twitched. "What happened." "It's... you should see for yourself." So much for peace.
He exited. BOOM. BOOM. "Blast it!" Toric's voice cut through cannon fire. Ashan reached the railing. Gazed into the distance.
The sea churned—dark water frothing, shifting, splitting. Something cut through at impossible speed. A school of Krakhan followed, struggling to keep pace. "First we thought it was just beasts," Dunstan reported. "But they're chasing something. Something fast. Very fast."
Another rakshasa? Or something else? The water erupted. Something leapt—silhouetted against the pale sky—then crashed back into the depths. "What was THAT?" "I don't know!" "A monster!" Whispers spread across the fleet. Fear. Awe. Hunger.
Ashan's eyes swirled—grey-white whirlpools spinning in the darkness. Amazing. What more can this world throw at me?
The being slithered deeper. The predator followed. The chase continued.