Once more they collided, this time with violence great enough that it shook the deck. Terrible enough, that the very wood that they stood on started to crack and splinter.
Drewey dove forward first, his cutlass carving heavy, punishing arcs meant to break Azdins guard and rend his flesh apart. Each swing carried weight behind it, sufficiently powered by Soul Essence guaranteeing the lethality of his strikes.
Azdin too met his blade, but rather than striking it head on, he parried it gently as the side of his blade slid against Drewey's own, before pushing it away slightly. If the two blades struck, he was sure to lose the direct struggle, so he opted to ward him off instead.
But even though Drewey still held the advantage, he felt as if the fight wasn't going in his favour at all. No matter how much he swung, or how many times their blades met, he couldn't shake off the feeling of being toyed with.
'Why the hell won't my blade reach him?'
His focus was poured solely on attack, while Azdin seemed to put his all into defence. Being overwhelmed like this meant that there was no chance he could fight back.. but that was only logically speaking. He had already defied his expectations before, so whose to say that he wouldn't do it again?
That was what his 10 years of experience from travelling these seas had taught him atleast.
And just like back then, his answer remained the exact same even now.
'Before I give him time to perform another trick, I'll finish him off quickly.'
He'd do it with his mightiest strike.
Stepping back, Drewey lifted his cutlass high above his head, with his single hand still locked around the hilt. For a heartbeat he held it there, blade poised against the light, shoulders coiled tight with every ounce of strength that he had.
And then he brought it down in one, dreadful slash.
The swing fell like a guillotine as he dragged the full weight of his body behind it. His arm snapped through the motion, boots grinding into the deck as he poured everything he had into that single strike.
Azdin could tell that even defending was pointless. The strike was simply too rigid to parry.
But at the same time, the answer to beating it was surprisingly simple.
His whole body shifted, as he took just a single light sidestep with a subtle turn of his shoulders. Drewey's blade came crashing down where he once stood just a heartbeat ago, the edge slicing through the air where his head had been as a thin lock of his blue hair fluttered away freely.
Azdin lifted his foot as the cutlass finished it's descent, before stamping on the back of the blade, pushing it even further down as it bit into the wood leaving a splintering crack.
Planting it firmly under his foot, he lifted his other free foot in the air, briefly allowing his weight to push the blade down even more, before smashing it in from the side with a kick, amplifying it with a boost of Soul Essence.
The impact rang out, metal bending before a fractured shriek screamed out as it snapped cleanly in two. The upper half and handle ripped away from Drewey's grip, spinning off while the jagged remainder stayed buried in the wood beneath Azdins feet.
For a moment, Drewey didn't breathe.
The vibration of the break trembled up his arm, as his eyes dropped slowly to his empty hand, still trying to hold on loosely to the now missing blade.
The realization settled in too slowly, as Azdin continued his assault.
Completely switching to the offensive, Azdin dropped the Azure saber from his right hand, as he instead drove his fist in hard, right into Drewey's gut. The blow landed deep and solid, folding the man forward as the air exploded in his lungs once more, resulting in a deep, broken gasp.
Not giving him a chance to recover, Azdin clenched the fist of his left arm tightly, before throwing it in a brutal uppercut.
It snapped his head back with a jolt, making the world flash white just for him alone. A hard wet caught tore from his throat as he stumbled, and blood splattered from his mouth in dark droplets.
But still, Azdin was not finished.
He seized Drewey by the shoulder, fingers digging in with iron force as he hurled him sideways, sending him flying as his back slammed against the mast shaft with a heavy thud.
And then following it up, his first punch cracked across his jaw. A kick followed to the ribs. Then another blow, even faster driving into his side. Fists and punches came in a relentless combo, a brutal wave of violence that left him no room to recover, each hit preventing his body from limping over as it was repeatedly smashed back into the ships mast, until eventually, that began to break behind him as well.
By the end of it, he was completely battered and broken.
Taking a step back, Azdin watched as he struggled to even stand.
His body was a ruin, bruises already darkening beneath his clothes and swelling across his ribs and jaw. Blood traced thin lines from his split up brow, slipping down his chin and dripping from his fingertips to the deck below.
He stood there swaying, his eyes unfocused and legs trembling under his own weight.
His lips moved, saying a simple word that he had no strength to even give voice, as his knees then finally gave in, and his whole body collapsed.
Even though he didn't speak, Azdin was able to read his lips all the same. He muttered quietly to himself,
"Clea?"
Before he could even try to guess as to who that person was, he felt the strength in one of his legs suddenly give way, as he fell to only one knee. Now kneeling on the ground, he realized his own condition.
'The adrenaline made me forget, but I'm damn near almost out of soul essence.'
He was essentially running on fumes.
'I can perform another short burst like that, one more time maybe..'
At that thought his face darkened. It was nowhere near to enough to fight another Awakened. And as if his luck wasn't rotten enough, his situation only grew far worse.
High above on the upper deck, two figures appeared at the rail. Their presence carving dark shapes against the morning light, as their silhouettes casted down below.
One held up a spear upright at their side, its top gleaming faintly as it caught the sun. The other rested a massive sledgehammer against their shoulder, the head of it heavy and brutal.
The other two awakened had finally made their appearance, and the first thing they saw was the bloody battlefield of the ships deck, numerous mundane slaughtering eachother without a care for their own safety.
Before they could act, the deck beneath them detonated. Wood erupted upwards in a violent burst of splinters and shattered planks, as the explosion ripped a jagged hole straight through the ships spine. The shockwave hurled bodies in every direction, with rebels and shipmates alike all being thrown off their feet as dust and debris filled the air.
From that wooden cavity, something moved.
A frighteningly tall figure rose through the haze, her dark hair spilling over her shoulders in stark contrast to the pale ruin around her. Her icy blue eyes scanned the deck with unnerving calm, glinting through drifting dust like shards of frozen glass.
Strapped across her back though, hung a familiar shape. His limbs were slacked around her neck, holding on for his life.
His head lifted, glancing in Azdins direction. It was then that he knew, everything would turn out okay.
"Hugo!"
But that still wasn't the end of all the surprises.
The doorway that led to the Captains quarters finally opened. And stumbling out was the drunken captain himself, his face still a little red from how much he drank last night.
His steps were loose and uneven, and every part about him was completely unfocused. Once he tried to speak, it was like he was talking in a different language.
"I can't even.. why is everyone so incompetent?? I can't even close my eyes without something going wrong!!"
And then, his gaze landed on Drewey.
It lingered there on the bruised, bloodied body slumped against the floor.
And then slowly, his eyes shifted to Azdin kneeling in the ground right next to him.
The sudden change about him was immediate.
The haze vanished as if wiped clean. His posture straightened. Shoulders squared, the lazy slack in his expression tightened into something sharp and furious. His eyes, once wandering and lazy, hardened into focus so precise it felt cutting.
The drunken daze was gone. And what stood there instead was something far more awake, aware, and seriously pissed off.
"I don't care anymore. You're all dying today."