Yun felt absolutely drained.
Is it because of [Eyes of Acuity]? I thought Traits were passive abilities?
After thinking about it, it was most likely the calculation and prediction he used to defeat the annoying spawn. Passive observation wouldn't drain him this much.
Yun felt his celestial core receive a small influx of power, only for it to quickly dissipate. [Cloud Servant] at work. He'd hoped for a Vestige — crystallizations of celestial essence that came in the form of special items. Not that the Curse would have rewarded him anything useful for a simple Mortal.
A sword his size would have really come in handy. And some shoes.
Yun also made sure to take note of the vital essence colours. So far, he'd seen dormant from the spawn, which probably meant its core hadn't awakened yet. Then yellow from the first barrier, red from Miri's barrier, and purple from Maliki, being the clear strongest.
A single purple core allowed him to battle a Dragon, which had four cores. What colour they were, Yun did not know. Possibly dormant, like its offspring.
Yun sighed, turning his head to catalogue the scene.
The number of spawn had doubled. He counted four casualties so far. The crew had an advantage at first, but they were slowly being overwhelmed.
Severin's Curse specifically named celestial essence as the tool for purging the Plague. Given that Yun was cut directly by the tusk's shrapnel and nothing happened, Yun was immune to the Plague, like all Divines.
Crap. I really am becoming one of them.
Authority then must mean one's capacity to command celestial essence. Purge more of the Plague, gain more Authority, command more essence. In Yun's case, that would allow him to actively use his Trait with less strain.
The crew's struggle also went to show how ineffective vital essence was against the abominations. Combat prowess aside, even Yun had an easier time putting one down with his non-existent Authority. Probably why this world became forsaken in the future.
Let them get wiped out. Makes it easier for me.
Just then, the world quaked as loud rumbles shook the Blood Maiden. Yun heard the crunch of wood and immediately dove to the side. The main mast collapsed onto where he was a second ago, damaging the port rail. Maliki and the Lost Sea King's battle raged underwater.
Him, on the other hand…
Yun's gaze snapped downward. Through the spray and chaos, he could make out Maliki's silhouette locked in combat beneath the waters. The sea boiled where they fought, steam rising in violent bursts. Every impact sent tremors through the Blood Maiden's hull.
It was keeping him occupied. For now.
But that wasn't going to last. Yun could see it in the way the Dragon's movements were becoming more erratic, more desperate. Maliki was winning. And when he did…
Yun's eyes tracked the spawn still flooding the deck, the ichor still pooling from the severed tusk. The crew was holding, but barely. Two more had fallen while he'd been watching. At this rate, they'd all be dead or corrupted before Maliki finished his trophy hunt.
Which is exactly the outcome I want. But where does that leave me?
The math was simple. Maliki wins, everyone celebrates, Yun gets tied back up or thrown overboard. Maliki loses, the Dragon and its spawn eat everyone including Yun. Neither option appealed.
So what's option three?
His gaze drifted to the storm barrier, the wall of pulsating starlight that had caged them since the Itheon's departure. The eye of the storm, keeping them trapped in this arena with a very angry Dragon. The spawn kept coming because the battle kept going. The battle kept going because no one could leave.
We need to get out of the storm.
The crew was so fixated on fighting that they'd forgotten the simplest solution: run away. The Blood Maiden was fast—Miri had proven that when she'd dodged the Dragon's strikes. If they could just punch through that barrier.
But first, the spawn had to go. Yes, it left more of Yun's captors alive, but it also increased his chances of survival.
First, get rid of the source.
Yun pushed himself up, legs protesting. The cutlass felt heavier with each step as he trudged toward the tusk. A spawn noticed him, gurgling that mockery-sound as it skittered in his direction. Yun needed to conserve his strength, and he didn't have the energy to fight it. He also didn't need to.
Using [Eyes of Acuity], he traced the creature's path, waited until it lunged, then sidestepped. The spawn sailed past him and crashed into two of its brethren embroiled in a separate struggle.
The tusk was massive up close, easily twice Yun's height and as wide as a barrel. Fresh ichor still poured from the jagged stump where Maliki had severed it. Yun planted his feet and shoved. It didn't budge. Of course, it didn't.
He tried again, this time wedging the cutlass under it as a lever. The tusk shifted slightly, rolling an inch. Then another. Yun's muscles screamed, his ribs flaring with sharp pain from where the spawn had launched him earlier.
A crew member stumbled past, bleeding from a gash across his shoulder. He saw what Yun was doing and watched him with a dazed expression.
"A little help?" Yun spat.
He turned his head to the carnage of the spawn, then back at Yun. Without a word, he added his weight to the effort. Then another joined. And another.
Together, they heaved.
The tusk rolled toward the damaged port rail, momentum building. It crashed through the weakened barrier and tumbled overboard with a massive splash. The ichor on deck stopped bubbling. The spawn that had already formed continued their assault, but no new ones emerged.
The assistants ignored Yun and dispersed, rallying with the rest of the crew for one last cleanup.
Yun collapsed against the rail, watching Miri leap from the bridge with her blade drawn. Red essence flared around her as she dove into the thickest cluster of spawn, her movements precise and deadly. Each strike released a burst of vital essence that dissolved the abominations faster than they could reform.
Within minutes, the deck was clear. The crew stood panting, exhausted, staring at the carnage. Yun counted the survivors: ten, maybe eleven if the guy slumped against the foremast was still breathing.
Why do I feel like I'm forgetting something?
Boom!
Just then, the grating exploded.
Metal shrieked as it tore free from its moorings, launching upward in a spray of black ichor. What emerged wasn't human anymore. The prisoners had been marinating in the Plague while everyone fought above. Their bodies had twisted to resemble the spawn — bones jutting, skin split to reveal volcanic rock beneath, eyes replaced with hollow sockets that wept black tears.
Almost all fifty of them.