"Ha… haah…"
Ulrich's breath came in ragged gasps.
He stood in the center of the ruined deck, one hand holding the black anti-magic sword while rain poured over his body. His shirt had become almost entirely red beneath the water. Blood ran down his side, his shoulder, his legs, and the ruined stump of his left arm.
His throat was dry.
Every breath felt like pain pressing into his lungs. The smell of smoke, burned wood, blood, and saltwater filled his chest. He tried to draw in more air, but his body refused to obey properly.
His vision blurred.
The silver aura from the Hollow Core had vanished.
Only a few fading sparks remained around him before the rain swallowed them.
Ulrich looked down.
His left forearm lay on the deck several paces away.
It had been severed below the elbow. Rainwater washed over the pale skin and bloodied sleeve. Blood continued to pour from the wound at his arm, dripping from his body onto the ship's wooden planks.
He could not leave it.
