Zharrok's patience thinned like ice under pressure. With each word from Temoshí, the tension thickened. Vorean soldiers bristled, Razor and Zharrok shifting side to side, both visibly fired up for a possible clash.
"You speak like humans don't treat us as their enemy," Zharrok growled, voice rumbling through the water. Though he stood still, it was clear he was holding back—for now, offering them one last chance to leave peacefully.
"Humans see each other as enemies too," Temoshí retorted. "But unlike you Voreans, hiding together under one barrier, we're divided. We have no single leader, and even those who claim power don't have the people's best interest at heart. We act on our own. And right now, we've chosen to help you."
Temoshí wasn't known for speeches, yet to Phoebe's surprise, he actually made a solid point. As rough as it sounded, he was right.
"Yeeeesh! He's got the nerve to sound like some guardian angel!" Razor cackled, whipping her tentacles around and spinning on the spot like a madwoman. Her long tongue lolled out, and her eyes gleamed with manic glee. "Now I really wanna slice him up!"
"Well spoken, human," Zharrok admitted coldly, never breaking his stare. "But you're still cut from the same cloth. All of your kind are responsible for what was done to us. You destroyed our home and forced us into this ocean prison. You stand here as a living reminder of the surface world we lost. Your very presence breaks our laws."
Temoshí didn't flinch. "Then maybe it's time to think about who really attacked you. Just because we're the same species doesn't mean we're all guilty. There are thousands—millions—of people out there who had nothing to do with what happened to you. That's why we can help… if you'll let us."
Stitch glanced sideways at Temoshí, then stepped forward, addressing the Voreans directly. "I don't mean to cause any trouble, but these people helped me too. If they're offering to help you, then I'm with them. We're not here to make you suffer, and we're not your enemies. We're not like the ones who hurt you. Please… let us help."
Temoshí stood with a relaxed posture, one hand resting on his hip, his expression calm and unreadable. Now, all that remained was to see how the Voreans would respond.
Zharrok's gaze darkened. "Then there's no more reason to talk. You've made your choice… and with it, you've chosen to stand against us."
He raised his massive lance, pointing it at the group.
"Voreans—Razor! Prepare for battle. Take them down!"
"Woo-haa! Time to cut loose and go wild!" Razor cackled, her voice rising with manic glee. "I've been waiting for this!"
Back at the household on the surface, where the rest of the crew had stayed behind, Nathaniel stood leaned against a wall just outside.
Nearby, Tarot was rummaging through their supplies, searching for peaches. Elliott paced restlessly, while Kyora and Joker were still focused on their research.
It was Nathaniel who first noticed the silhouettes drawing closer in the distance—many of them, clad in white uniforms. Leading the group were two distinct figures: one woman with long blue hair, the other with short, stark white hair.
"Looks like we got found," Nathaniel muttered, pushing off the wall and stepping forward, arms no longer crossed. He moved to the front of the group, ready as the marines approached.
Moments later, the marines arrived, Lucina and Faustina at the helm. Lucina placed her hands confidently on her hips, scanning the crew one by one before locking eyes with Nathaniel.
"Lucina..." Nathaniel's low, tense voice carried across the yard, laced with restrained fury.
"Nathaniel," she responded coolly. "Once again, our paths cross. It's hard to believe I'm standing opposite someone who once aimed to become one of us. Such a waste… your skills would have been an asset. But instead, you chose the wrong side." She paused, her gaze narrowing. "And now, we stand as enemies."
"What do you want this time?" Nathaniel asked, his voice steady and full of confidence. "Still trying to catch us like flies? Don't fool yourself—it won't be that easy, not even for you."
Lucina remained composed. "You're a pirate—our enemy. Of course, it's our job to bring you in. But right now, our focus is Hollow. And considering you've been protecting his home, it's clear you've already crossed paths. I never expected your crew of all people to align with him. Weren't you supposed to be against him?"
Nathaniel replied coolly, "And we didn't."
Elliott quickly stepped in, tone sharp. "If you really think we've teamed up with that guy, then you're dumber than you look. We've got our own reasons for being here—and none of them involve you."
Lucina drew her revolver, keeping her other hand near the hilt of her blade. The muzzle leveled directly at Nathaniel's forehead, unwavering.
"So be it," she said coldly, her voice devoid of any hint of the camaraderie they once shared. "You've always been a waste of potential, Nathaniel. From your academy days to now. If you had stayed with us, you'd have ended up in a prison cell anyway. It's where you've belonged since the start."
But Nathaniel no longer flinched like he once did. Without hesitation, he reached into his holster, smoothly drew his pistol, gave it a quick spin between his fingers, and aimed it right back at her.
"I made a promise—to become the best gunslinger for his sake. And I intend to keep it. You? You're just another name on the list, Lucina. Once you're out of the picture, the rest of the marksmen can come at me. I'll be ready."
The soldiers raised their rifles, ready to fire—but Faustina raised a hand, halting them. "Ah ah, I don't recall giving the order," she said with a casual tone. She then turned to one of the marines standing nearby. "You. You look like you could use a break."
The soldier blinked, confused—until their eyes met. In a flash, a sharp needle of ice burst forth and struck him in the forehead, dropping him instantly.
The surrounding marines recoiled in shock, some trembling in place.
"Let that be a reminder," Faustina said calmly, her tone as cold as her methods. "Disobey orders, and you end up like him."
All at once, the soldiers stiffened and nodded obediently. Lucina let out a sigh, casting her gaze to the side.
"You've killed another one. At this rate, we'll lose more men to you than to our actual enemies."
Faustina simply shrugged, unfazed. "He was dead weight anyway. Honestly, it's a miracle he lasted this long." Her eyes shifted toward Nathaniel and the others, a wicked smile creeping onto her face. "Now then... let's focus on the ones worth the trouble. The real party's just getting started."
To be continued..