CHAPTER FIFTY-SIX
Rio was bored out of his mind. The ship had been at sea for seven days, and the initial novelty had long since passed.
"We'll be in Naples soon, just a couple of hours to the port," Gideon said as he took a puff from his cigar. The long journey hadn't affected him in the slightest. His clothes were still in place, and the sea breeze hadn't even ruffled his majestic purple hair.
Rio, on the other hand, couldn't say the same for himself. He hadn't been able to sleep properly due to the sound of the waves crashing against the boat, so his eyes were red and dark circles shadowed his lids.
His hair was a tangled mess—he hadn't gone so long without treating it, so it was dry and brittle. His clothes reeked of salt, and his skin was raw and dry. All in all, he was looking worse for wear.
At least it wasn't as bad as it was for Hayato. The boy had been adamant about joining the mission, and now he seemed to regret it. Fire instinctively rejected large bodies of water—he hadn't even been able to come out of his room because of his seasickness.
"Ah, che bel tempo oggi!" Gideon smiled as he looked toward Mount Vesuvius in the distance.
"Sorry, I forgot you don't speak Italian. Don't worry, I'll translate for you," Gideon offered with a smile.
'What nice weather today!' Of course, Rio understood Italian. He may not have practiced speaking, but he had been given a week—and with his quirk, that might as well have been a year. Still, he couldn't appreciate the weather. Visibility was low at night; the lights on the docks and the mountain were the only sources of illumination.
"Are we finally arriving? I'm sick of this fucking salt water. Finally, we can get to land," Ash groaned as he massaged his temples.
The man had been using his time quite productively. Whenever he wasn't sleeping, he was drinking heavily. Half the time, he was blacked out from too much alcohol, and the other half, he was cursing his nth hangover.
"I thought you said you were Poseidon or something. I thought you'd love the sea," Rio said mockingly. The man was insufferable to be around—Rio held no fondness for him.
"Shut up... eughk... I'm the god of earthquakes, not storms and the sea," Ash muttered angrily as he continued to rub his temples.
Tobias had been alternating between the control room and his cabin. He was in charge of the cloaking tech that shielded their boat from marine patrol radars. The tech in question just looked like some poorly assembled copper wires.
When Rio asked how it worked, Tobias just shrugged and said he didn't know. It seemed his quirk simply helped him optimize things—it didn't tell him the rationale behind the optimizations. It just made things work like magic.
"Hold on, I see something in the distance…" Rio said suddenly.
It was a medium-sized vessel—and it was closing in fast.
"Oh, it's the Donati family's ship. They're allies. Helmsman, draw close!" Gideon called out, and the ship slowed in response.
The two vessels drew closer, reducing speed until they floated side by side.
The Donati family's ship cut its engines just enough to drift parallel. For a few seconds, the two hulls moved in unison, waves rocking them gently apart—until ropes locked them together with practiced ease.
A few moments later, someone boarded their boat: a lanky man with sharp features, dressed in a crisp suit.
Not the best choice for an at-sea excursion, no?
"Ah, Gideon, my brother. It's been ages! You left so suddenly without a word—I was worried we might've had a problem somewhere," the man said in Italian, stepping forward for a hug and patting Gideon on the back.
"Ah, I'm truly sorry, Signore Lorenzo. Something came up, and I couldn't leave my business unattended. You'll have to forgive me for that," Gideon replied, stepping out of the hug.
"No, no problems at all. After all, Black Vellum and the Donati family have been cooperating for years," Lorenzo added with a smile.
So they don't know we're with the Liberation Army…
The Liberation Army's movement was a global phenomenon. Destro's uprising was recorded as one of the defining events of the era. It was good they used aliases in day-to-day operations—especially now, when their strength wasn't what it used to be.
Rio tuned out the rest of the conversation. They weren't discussing anything important. Instead, his eyes curiously scanned the Donati ship.
It was a repurposed military vessel—an older model, sure, but still impressive. For a mere crime family to own military-grade tech said a lot.
The guns on deck were mounted... and locked on?
Rio's brain kicked into gear.
He turned and scanned the horizon.
Three more ships had circled around theirs, stealthy and quiet. Their cloaking technology was primitive—waves crashing against their hulls momentarily disrupted the illusion, revealing glimpses of dark steel beneath the surface shimmer.
"It was nice seeing you, Gideon…"
Lorenzo's mocking smile returned.
"The Donati family sends their regards," he said with a sinister tone, before vanishing into thin air.
All the guns turned on them.
Rio's tension surged. If the gunfire was too dense, even he would eventually get hit—no matter how slow time moved.
"TAKE COVER NOW!!!"
Rio screamed at the top of his lungs—
but it was already too late.
Like the roars of a furious god, hell descended on their ship.
RATATATATATA.
The first to go were the confused workers on the deck—mowed down like wheat. The smarter ones, sensing danger, scrambled for cover wherever they could find it.
The World came into focus, and with it, time stilled.
Rio dashed into action.
With a burst of enhanced speed, he grabbed as many people as he could. In a few quick trips, the surviving crew members were stashed safely inside the control room. The thick steel doors and reinforced hull above would hopefully shield them from the worst of the assault.
Gideon, for his part, looked a little disheveled. His shirt had lost a few buttons, and his normally immaculate hair was a mess. He took cover as a small, bubble-like shield shimmered around the exposed parts of his body. When bullets made contact, they ricocheted and bounced away harmlessly.
Ash was hiding behind a stack of metal crates, cursing under his breath and clutching a bottle in one hand.
Rio caught his eye.
Ash simply grinned and took a long swig.
Rio wasn't counting on him for anything. Ash had been upfront about his limitations—his powers didn't work at sea. He was completely useless in this situation.
At least if he died, he'd go out doing something he loved.
Gunfire continued to rain down in endless waves.
Rio crouched behind a metal crate and cursed under his breath.
The salvo can't go on forever… unless someone has an infinite reload quirk.
In that case, they were all screwed.
Rio could escape if he wanted to—he was fast enough. But leaving the others behind wasn't an option. He had to find a way to get them out alive… somehow.
But it wouldn't be easy.
They were stranded at sea. There was nowhere to drop off a group of ten people, and he wasn't fast enough to get everyone to port in time.
He waited. The moment the salvo stopped—even for a breath—he'd board the enemy ships and take them down before they could fire again.
That plan was taken from him very quickly.
"Accelerated cell division. Chemical manipulation. Remote detonation."
Lorenzo—who had vanished earlier—suddenly reappeared on the ship, his arm coated in a grotesque, pulsating gauntlet.
He spotted Rio and gave a small wave.
"Space transfer."
And just like that, he was gone.
All that remained was the gauntlet—its surface flashing red as it swelled grotesquely in size.
"Oh shi—"
Rio didn't get to finish the thought.
A violent explosion rocked the ship.
A mushroom cloud bloomed upward, visible for miles.
From a safe distance, Lorenzo watched the devastation unfold from his own vessel.
He smiled, satisfied.
"Target eliminated. Let's move, boys. I don't think the Councilor would appreciate the mess we're making on his territory."
With that, all four ships turned and vanished. Their cloaking tech shimmered back into effect, and they disappeared into the night like ghosts.
It was as if no one had ever been there at all.
The sea floor was coated in debris. The night air hung heavy with the smell of burning fuel, flesh, and salt.
Jagged fragments of twisted metal floated across the dark water, reflecting the pale moonlight in sharp, angry glints.
Chunks of scorched wood and torn canvas bobbed among slick patches of black oil that spread across the water's surface like a dark stain, swallowing the gentle rhythm of the waves.
"Well, that went to hell pretty quickly," Rio said in disbelief as he stared at the wreckage in front of him.
He stood on the ocean's surface, trying to process his emotions. His feet struck the water so fast it seemed like he barely touched it at all. Each step sent sprays of white foam flying.
The sea set out to claim him, but he was unmoved—his momentum and rhythm kept him steady.
A rasping exhale broke the silence as someone burst from the water. It was Ash, and he looked like he'd just crawled out of an explosion.
His eyebrows had been singed off, his hair blackened and carbonized. His soaked clothes hung in tatters—but he was unmistakably alive.
As if on cue, the others began surfacing.
Gideon Kross emerged looking like a model in a swimwear shoot, while Hayato—naked but unharmed—flailed about in a panic, splashing wildly like a startled cat dropped in a bathtub, clearly confused as to how he ended up in the water.
Moments later, a metal hatch floated to the surface, and inside it sat Tobias—completely unharmed, lounging in a metal chair, curiously observing his captain.
Rio scanned the wreckage and sighed when he saw no one else coming up.
It was already a miracle this many had survived the explosion. Hoping for more was a pipe dream.
"Ah, it seems I may have miscalculated," Gideon said with a wry smile. "Anyway, welcome to Napoli!"
And what a warm welcome it was.