The air thickened with the stench of blood and burning wood. Black smoke plumed from the pirate flagship. Its masts shattered. Its deck was a mess.
The relentless barrage from the Sky Grimoire had significantly damaged it. Screams and gunfire were still a symphony of destruction. Spark Nighthawk watched as the pirate numbers dwindled. His expression was unreadable.
The fight was over before it truly began. His women had done their job perfectly. The remaining pirates clustered pathetically on the main deck. Their bulky captain, a man-mountain with a crude cleaver, bellowing futile defiance.
"Alright!" Spark's voice rumbled. Deep and resonant, even without amplification. He immediately gave commands. "Girls! Focus your fire on the other two ships. Disable them, but don't sink them. Leave the flagship to me."
A chorus of affirmative answer and brief acknowledgments confirmed his orders. He didn't wait for further reply.
His eyes narrowed. A predatory glint appearing in their dark depths. The air around him shimmered. Distorting, coiling with raw power. His immense frame began to shift. In moments, his human form was gone. Replaced by a Draconic Werelion – a beast of black fur and scales, mane, horns, and intimidating size.
He crouched at the edge of the Sky Grimoire's deck. The wind was whipping at his newly transformed mane. Below, the pirate flagship seemed to be awaiting. The remaining pirates were visible. Still reeling from the bombardment.
Without a second thought, Spark launched himself. He leaped. A black blur against the smoky sky. Covering the tens of meter gap in a matter of seconds.
He landed with a bone-jarring thud on the flagship's main deck. His claws tore deep gouges into the charred planks. The impact rattled the dying ship.
His sudden appearance instantly shattered any lingering semblance of pirate resistance. A monstrous draconic leonine figure descending from the sky.
Fear gripped the remaining crew. They scattered. Some tried to draw blades. Others were scrambling for cover. It was pointless.
The hulking pirate captain, identified by his size, outfit, and the crude sword, bellowed a challenge. He transformed into a beast too. A partial sea beast.
His skin rippled, turning pallid and slick. His face contorted, eyes bulging, and from his back, thick, rubbery tentacles erupted. Whipping through the air. An Octopus-man.
He lunged. A desperate, clumsy charge. Tentacles flailing. Aiming for Spark's massive chest.
Spark met him directly. He roared. A sound that vibrated through the deck. Echoing the primal terror in the pirates' hearts.
He swiped the flailing tentacles easily with his massive clawed hands. The Octopus-man captain was strong. Certainly stronger than his terrified subordinates. But he was a still very weak in comparison to Spark.
The werelion's claws quickly tore through the captain's transformed flesh. Ripping through the tentacles. And sending black, thick blood splattering across the deck.
The pirate captain screamed. Trying to recoil. But Spark was already upon him. Another swipe, more powerful, was aimed at the neck. The cleaver clattered to the deck.
The Octopus-man's head flew from his shoulders. Still contorted in a mask of fear and pain. Tumbling end over end before splashing into the churning water below.
His body crumpled. Tentacles were twitching. Then lay still.
The remaining pirates shrieked. Some tried to fight. Swinging rusty cutlasses that Spark ignored. Others threw themselves overboard. Preferring the cold embrace of the sea to the terrifying wrath of the werelion.
Spark moved with brutal efficiency. Swipes. Powerful stomps. Each movement resulted in a sickening crunch of bone, a spray of blood, and a life extinguished. There was no mercy. No hesitation.
These were pirates. Scums of the seas. And they had preyed on many innocent people. Their deaths were a mere cleaning of the trash.
Within moments, the deck was littered with corpses. And the screams had died down. Spark stood amidst the wreckage. His golden eyes were scanning the ship. Ensuring no one remained.
With the deck clear, Spark retracted his claws. Though he remained in his werelion form. He moved with a purpose. His heavy boots were thudding on the creaking planks.
He ignored the lower decks for now. Heading directly for the captain's quarter. A gut feeling guiding him. He kicked the reinforced wooden door. It splintered and flew inward. Crashing against the far wall.
The room beyond was surprisingly intact compared to the rest of the ship. Though signs of a hurried departure were evident.
Inside, two more pirates rose from behind an overturned table. They were armed with pistols. But, their faces were pale with terror.
They fired. The bullets, weak little projectiles, pinged harmlessly off Spark's fur and draconic scales. He snarled. And lunged.
There was no need for elaborate maneuvers. A swift, brutal pounce. And the two men were crushed beneath his immense weight. Their last breaths were guttural chokes.
Spark sniffed the air. Checking for any other life signatures in the room. Finding none, he turned his gaze to a large, heavily reinforced chest in the corner.
He didn't bother with locks. One powerful clawed hand clamped around the lid. And with a grunt of effort, he ripped it open. Tearing the thick steel hinges from their fastenings.
Inside, nestled amongst layers of velvet, lay a collection of glittering objects. He reverted to his human form. The transformation was swift and seamless. His dark-grey eyes scanned the contents.
First, a rolled-up parchment. He unrolled it carefully. It was a map. Intricately drawn. Detailing a cluster of islands he vaguely recognized. The Sixchain Islands. Various markings, symbols, and red Xs indicated potential hidden treasures. Interesting. A new destination for later, perhaps.
Next, glittering heaps of gold coins. And a scattering of various gemstones – rubies, emeralds, sapphires, all of decent size and cut. Standard pirate loot. But always welcome. He made a mental note to appraise them properly later.
Finally, at the bottom, nestled on a silken cloth, was a flask. It was unremarkable at first glance. Made of dark, polished material. But a faint, ethereal glow emanated from it. He picked it up, feeling its surprising weight and cool touch.
He took the [Appraisal Goggles] from his Spatial Belt and activated it. A stream of information flowed directly into his mind.
[Object: Endless Beverage Flask]
[Type: Container]
[Quality: Epic]
[Characteristic: Super Tough]
[Characteristic: Endless Replenishment]
[Characteristic: Freshness Refinement]
[Characteristic: Quantity Adjustment]
Spark's eyebrows rose slightly. Epic quality. That was rare. He read the characteristics. A faint smirk touching his lips.
"Endless Replenishment." He murmured in amazement. It was a rune circuit enhancement he never managed to complete.
Further observation made its function pretty clear. It would refill any liquid placed inside. Daily, as long as it wasn't completely emptied. An endless supply. A genuine treasure.
His gaze falling on the small stopper. He pulled it out. A rich, sweet aroma of aged wine wafted up. He swore under his breath. A low, discontented sound.
"Wine?" He grumbled to himself. "Seriously? What a waste."
An endless supply of anything placed inside. And the previous owner had filled it with wine. It was an incredible tool. Wasted on something so common.
He could imagine the possibilities. An endless supply of a rare health potion. Or a potent mana elixir. Or perhaps even a highly specialized enhancement serum. That would be true power. Wine was just a common commodity.
He would have to empty it promptly. And find a truly precious liquid to fill it with. Something unique. Something that would give him a constant, high-level buff. Or an inexhaustible emergency reserve.
He reached for his Spatial Belt. One which he had converted into a Technomind Gear. He swept the treasure map, the gold coins, and the gemstones into the belt's vast, storage dimension.
The [Endless Beverage Flask], a truly valuable find, went in too. Carefully placed.
With the captain's quarters thoroughly plundered, Spark turned and left the room. The ship continued to groan and list. The sounds of fire and collapsing timber growing louder.
He had little time. His next target was the cargo hold. Pirates, especially successful ones, didn't just carry personal loot. They carried stolen goods.
He descended a rickety staircase. Following the faint scent of timber and spilled wine. The cargo hold was wider, more cavernous, than he expected. And it was packed.
Even in the dim light filtering through cracks in the hull, he could make out mountains of crates and barrels.
He started digging through them. His powerful hands ripping open crates with ease. He found chest after chest of precious artworks. Intricately framed paintings depicting pastoral scenes and valiant knights. Woven tapestries of vibrant colors. Gleaming golden statues. And sets of polished silver utensils.
These were the spoils of raids on noble's ships or estates, likely. He also found hundreds of bottles of precious wines. Some were still intact in their wooden crates. Others shattered. Their contents were staining the deck boards.
Finally, there were bolts of luxurious cloth. Silks, velvets, and rare exotic fabrics. Likely stolen from merchant vessels.
Spark observed these items. They were valuable, certainly. But they weren't things he needed to keep in his primary Spatial Belt. It was reserved for his personal gear, powerful artifacts, and emergency supplies.
He had no intention of decorating his sky ship with stolen art. Nor did he care for collecting fine wines. These were goods to be liquidated. Converted into hard currency.
He reached into his Spatial Belt again. Pulling out two smaller spatial bags. These were not Technomind Gear.
They were less sophisticated than his belt. With far more limited capacity. But they were still incredibly useful for bulk storage of non-essential items. He had acquired them in Grandpoint City and kept them for just such occasions.
"Alright! Time to loot." he muttered. Opening the bags. He began systematically filling them with the ship's cargo.
He would sell them off at the next major port. Anonymously, if possible. The financial gain, while significant, was a bonus.
The real prize had been the flask and the map.