Chapter 34: The pirate queen
The smoke had thinned by morning.
Riya walked just behind Richard as the group made their way down a fractured road, ruined buildings leaning like dying beasts on either side.
The sunlight barely pierced the thick clouds, casting everything in gray.
Dust crunched underfoot, and the air still hummed with leftover magic—residual energy from countless battles.
Rin walked with her arms folded, pace fast, gaze sharp.
Cu Chulainn moved beside her, spear over his shoulder like a traveler rather than a warrior.
"This place looks always gives me a bad feeling" Riya muttered.
Richard gave a humorless chuckle.
Rin added. "The density of Servants here is absurd. Who planned this disaster, anyway?"
"Probably the same people who thought throwing mages into a murder tower was smart," Cu said, grinning.
They kept moving.
After half an hour, they ducked into an alley, moving through shadows cast by broken buildings.
Riya glanced up—no drones or familiars in sight.
Just silence, eerie and loud in its own way.
Rin finally broke it.
"So," she said, not looking at anyone in particular. "How does someone like you end up in something like this?"
Riya glanced her way. "What, me?"
"Yes, you," she huffed. "You don't look like a standard mage. No crest. No House name. You're not... typical."
"Never said I was."
"That's not an answer."
Riya smirked. "What about you? Didn't think someone that looks like you will end up fighting for their life, either."
Rin's face flushed. "T-this is research! I had everything under control—until idiots started blowing up rooftops!"
Cu barked a laugh. "You keep telling yourself that."
Richard pointed to a nearby building.
"There. Looks abandoned. Let's check it out."
They entered cautiously.
It had once been a bank—vault torn open, the lobby blackened by flame.
But the upper floors were intact. Enough to rest.
Rin dusted off a desk and dropped her bag. "This will do. But I don't want to die in my sleep, so—"
"I'll take first watch," Richard said, stepping near the window, arms crossed.
His tone was casual, but his eyes were already scanning the shadows outside.
"You lot get some rest while the real hero does the boring work."
Cu Chulainn cracked his neck and leaned against the opposite wall.
"Then I'm up after him. Can't let Mr. Shiny Armor here hog all the night air."
Richard glanced back with a smirk. "We'll keep switching like that. Two hours each, rotating until the Masters wake up."
Cu shrugged. "Fine by me. Just make sure you don't fall asleep mid-shift, pretty boy."
Richard rolled his eyes. "Please. I don't sleep—I power nap with flair."
Behind them, Riya let out a tired chuckle while Rin muttered something about "idiots" under her breath.
Riya and Rin headed upstairs.
They reached a room with a half-collapsed ceiling, light filtering in through a shattered window.
Rin dropped her coat, sitting on the edge of what remained of a couch. "You! don't get any ideas just because we're sharing the floor."
"Wouldn't dream of it."
She narrowed her eyes. "Not that I care what you're dreaming about. Idiot."
Riya chuckled softly and lay back on the floor, folding his hands behind his head.
Soon, his breathing slowed.
The world faded to black.
Then it roared back in.
Thunder.
Rain.
Salt and wind in his face.
Riya gasped, his body jerking upright—only to find himself soaked to the bone on the deck of a massive galleon.
The ship creaked beneath him, cutting through monstrous waves under a stormy sky.
Lightning danced across black clouds, and wind howled like a beast.
And at the helm, laughing into the storm, stood a woman.
Long, wavy crimson-pink hair whipped around her face.
Her eyes were ocean blue, sharp and wild.
A jagged scar cut across her cheek.
She wore a dark pink vest that exposed her chest boldly, brown choker snug against her neck, white pants tucked into tall brown boots.
She looked like a goddess of the sea.
And she was steering a flying pirate ship.
She turned, grinning. "Well now, aren't you a curious little stowaway."
The wheel spun by itself as she walked away, as if the ship had entered autopilot.
She made her way toward him, each step swaying with the ship's rhythm.
Her boots thudded against the wet wood, her tits bouncing slightly with every step. Rum sloshed in a half-full bottle in her hand.
"Name's Francis Drake. Captain. Pirate. Dreamer. Legend. And you... you're the one my storm dragged in."
Riya blinked. "Why does the mindscape look like this?"
Drake shrugged, stopping just before him. Her scent was sea salt and booze. "Beats me. Maybe I wanted my ship. Or maybe you did?"
A gust of wind made the ship rise, and for a moment, it soared above the storm.
She gestured casually. "C'mon. Let's head below deck. Winds are getting colder, and I hate drinking alone."
They moved down a staircase into a richly furnished cabin—her quarters.
Inside: gold-filled chests, bottles of rum stacked like books, velvet curtains flapping.
A huge bed with blood-red sheets dominated one side.
In the center sat a low table made of an old treasure chest.
Drake dropped onto a chair behind it, tossing her boots onto the table.
Her vest shifted as she leaned back, arms behind her head—giving him an unapologetic view of her generous, bouncing chest.
Riya sat across from her, trying not to stare.
She smirked knowingly. "You've got storm in your eyes, kid. But you're too new to the sea."
"I like your type. Bold. Stupid. Dangerous. But if you think you can just have me... sorry, that's boring."
She took a long swig of rum, wiping her mouth.
"Here's a challenge: conquer the entire floor. All of it. Own it. Bring me the best damn drink you can find. Then, maybe—you get a night to remember."
Her eyes gleamed. "How's that for motivation?"
Riya stared at her.
And slowly, a smile pulled at his lips.
"Deal."
Drake laughed, loud and wild. "That's what I wanted to hear!"
Outside, the storm kept raging.
Inside, the game had just begun.