Chapter 7: The Death of the Pirate King
Beyond the brightly lit port, aboard a small, distant boat, Ren quietly watched the Dreadnought.
As the cannon plunged into the sea with Twisted Fate in tow and the men on deck began firing into the water, Ren knew it was about to begin. He crouched low, his hands gripping the side of the boat tightly.
He was dressed in dark green scale mail, his hands protected by obsidian gauntlets. A single-handed sword hung at one hip, a pistol at the other—all treasures from Gangplank's vault.
Ren waited, his eyes locked on Gangplank. The distance was great, and his eyes, weary from lack of sleep, were starting to blur. Ren tried channeling a bit of mana into them.
Instantly, a cool, soothing sensation washed over his eyes. His vision became clearer than ever before, so sharp he could make out the deep furrow in Gangplank's brow.
BOOM! A series of massive explosions erupted, sending fireballs blasting into the sky. A particularly enormous one bloomed over the port. The crowds who had come to watch the spectacle were frozen in stunned silence.
Ren, his gaze unwavering, was unaffected. He didn't even blink at the blinding flash of light. A moment later, he smiled.
"Found you," he whispered, steering the small boat forward.
Just as the explosion occurred, a dark shadow had been thrown from Gangplank's position, flying in the very direction Ren was now heading.
Sarah stood on the prow of the Siren, gazing at the sea of fire in the distance—a horrific masterpiece of her own creation.
The wreckage of the Dreadnought and the surrounding ships burned fiercely. There would be almost no survivors among Gangplank's pirates and gang members.
Between the raging flames, the freezing water, and the swarming schools of fish, anyone not killed in the blast who ended up in the sea had virtually no chance of making it to shore.
The massive fireball that had bloomed moments ago had illuminated the harbor like a second sun.
More than half of Bilgewater's residents had seen it. They were shocked by the Pirate King's abrupt exit from the stage.
For Gangplank, the public execution had been just another means of consolidating his power. How could he have known that the very stone he'd lifted to crush others would end up falling on his own head?
The towering flames in the port seemed to set the entire city alight. Roars of triumph and howls of agony echoed over the rooftops.
The fall of the Pirate King meant the throne was now empty. Ambitious men and women began to emerge from the woodwork. Even petty street thugs took the opportunity to riot and loot.
A small smile played on Sarah's delicate face. She had posed as a wealthy client to hire Twisted Fate to steal the dagger, then tipped off Graves about the time and place of the heist. She had found a sharp-witted boy to deliver the news about Twisted Fate to Gangplank, then planted explosives on the Dreadnought and elsewhere while no one was around. Finally, she had simply waited for Gangplank to summon the whole city to watch his public execution.
From the moment Gangplank, wearing his red bandana, had gunned down her parents, his fate today was sealed.
As a child, she could only watch helplessly as her parents fell in a pool of their own blood.
Gangplank had taught her a cruel lesson that day: no matter how stable your life was yesterday, everything you have can be turned to ash in the next second.
Gangplank's greatest mistake was carelessly letting her live. Sorrow had turned to fury, pain to hatred. It was a fire in her heart that sustained her through countless cold, lonely nights.
She should have felt joy. But at this moment, as the fire in her heart was finally extinguished, the space it left behind was filled with nothing but emptiness.
Raven spoke from behind her, breaking her reverie. "Gangplank is dead. It's over."
"No. It's far from over!"
She turned, her gaze fixed on the city's depths. She had thought that killing Gangplank would allow her to start over. But as she looked at the city, scarred by scattered fires—a city she had wounded—she felt an unparalleled sense of power. She couldn't stop now.
"This is just the beginning. Listen well. Everyone who ever pledged loyalty to him—I will cast them into the abyss. Every one of his captains still alive—I will hang their heads from the prow of the Siren. Every business he ever owned—I will burn to ash. And finally, I will watch as his mangled corpse grovels at my feet."
A chill ran down Raven's spine. It was the first time he had ever heard Sarah make such a declaration. Even Ramsey, standing beside him, stared at her in shock.
"Hiss… Hah… hah… cough cough…" Amid the crackling flames and churning waves, a man clung desperately with one hand to a small piece of shattered planking.
With every ragged breath and agonizing cough, blood gushed from his mouth. The water around him was filled with the screams of the dying—some on the verge of passing out from the searing pain of their burns, others being devoured by swarms of fish, and the unluckiest few still alive as the schools closed in.
Large fish occasionally swam past, but the man clutching the plank made no move to drive them away. His other arm was nothing but a stump of shredded flesh.
Just then, a small boat pulled up alongside him. "You're a pathetic sight, Gangplank."
The man in the boat, Ren, swung a long gaff, sinking it into Gangplank's remaining arm. He hauled him onto the boat, then drew his sword and plunged it through his body, pinning him to the deck boards.
Ignoring Gangplank's screams, Ren pulled out his pistol and aimed it at his head.
"Your Majesty, the esteemed Pirate King. Weren't you going to make a bone carving out of me? Why the delay?"
"Is it that you don't want to?" Ren glanced at the arm impaled by the gaff, then at the mangled ruin on the other side. "Or is it that you can't? Zehahaha!"
Gangplank's eyes focused slightly, recognizing him. "It's you… the one from the tavern…" BANG!
Before he could finish, Ren blew his brains out. "Correct answer. No prize."
BANG! BANG! BANG!… Ren fired again and again, into Gangplank's head, heart, and chest, until the gun was empty.
Having executed Gangplank, Ren looked over at the towering inferno and considered performing a 'Great Fire Torch' ritual on the body. There's no way you can resurrect from that.
He decided to postpone the idea for now. He took out a long strip of sackcloth and wrapped the body, then summoned a pre-prepared coffin from his magic storage. He placed the body inside and sent it back into his storage.
Living people still couldn't enter his magic storage, but Ren had discovered earlier that corpses could. This discovery pleased him greatly; it made his magic storage even more useful. 'Professional Corpse Collector,' 'Evidence Destroyer'… both had a nice ring to them.
Wrapping the captain up and putting him in a coffin wasn't out of respect, nor was it because death erases all debts. Ren simply didn't want a bloody corpse dirtying his precious storage space. The extra layer was, if nothing else, a psychological comfort.
And he certainly wouldn't forget about Gangplank's body. He'd give it two days at most before cremating it. The time in between was for a little business he planned to conduct with Sarah.
"Oh, beautiful lady whose great revenge has been fulfilled. You wouldn't want the body of your nemesis to go missing, only for him to suddenly pull a resurrection stunt, would you?"
"I'll let you in on a little secret: I happen to be a legendary master of finding corpses. If you really want to find Gangplank's body, I'd be happy to be of service. And I should mention, I'm quite fond of gold coins."
As Ren daydreamed about his future conversation with Sarah, he glanced in another direction.
"I still have something important to do today. I hope I'm not too late," Ren said, steering the boat toward his new destination.
Stupid shark-fucking moron! Can't swim but you still jump in! I gave you the card, what the hell did you come back for?! Graves cursed inwardly, shaking his head violently.
Idiot whose head got stuck in a donkey press! Calls himself a master thief but can't pick a simple lock after trying for an eternity! You've wasted your whole damn life, you mother…
Click. Before he could finish his tirade, he heard a faint sound from the seabed. The manacles were open. Coming to his senses, Graves saw the broken dagger tip and Twisted Fate's bleeding hand.
BOOM! With a massive roar, the sea surface lit up with a brilliant orange-red glow.
His thoughts snapped back to the present. He saw Twisted Fate, limp as a dead dog, drifting with the current.
Graves broke free of the chains, swam to Twisted Fate's side, grabbed his collar, and kicked desperately for the surface. He hadn't swum more than a few meters when debris from the explosion began raining down from above, crashing into the water all around them.
Graves dodged with all his might, a large piece of wreckage just grazing past him.
THUD! He was still hit by something. He glanced over. It was a corpse. The head was a bloody mess, but he could faintly make out a face full of tattoos, the dead eyes wide open. It tumbled past him and sank into the black depths.
Graves paddled frantically, his lungs about to burst. Just as he was about to lose consciousness, he finally broke the surface. He stuck his head out, coughing up mouthfuls of bitter, salty seawater, his chest heaving like a broken bellows.
But he still couldn't breathe properly. The air was thick with smoke, stinging his eyes. He'd never seen a fire so fierce; it felt like the world was burning.
"Gods…"
He felt for Twisted Fate's pulse. He was still alive. But the son of a bitch was heavy, and Graves himself was badly injured. It took every ounce of his strength just to keep him from sinking back into the sea.
A shattered plank drifted nearby. Graves grabbed it, shoved Twisted Fate onto it, and then hauled himself up. Thank the heavens. We actually survived.
Temporarily safe, Graves began to carefully check Twisted Fate's condition, only to realize he wasn't breathing.
"Shit! No way. He always finds a way out of trouble," Graves growled, hammering his fist into Twisted Fate's chest. He struck him a dozen times, hoping to pound him awake.
Just as Twisted Fate was about to be beaten to death by the well-intentioned son of a bitch, he choked violently, coughing up several large mouthfuls of seawater, and slowly regained consciousness.
"You goddamn idiot! What did you come back for?"
"I wanted to try your method," he said in a low voice.
"Wanted to see if a fool's method could bring some good luck," he coughed up more seawater. "This feels awful."
"Should we go find your gun now?"
"Are you kidding me? Where are you gonna find a gun in this mess?" Graves gestured toward the sea of fire.
A pained look crossed Twisted Fate's face. "Without your gun, how's a big oaf like you going to survive?"
"Still cracking jokes at a time like this," Graves grumbled, then continued, "It'll be a bit difficult. But it's fine. I heard there's a master gunsmith in Piltover."
"Piltover?" Twisted Fate fell into thought. "The City of Progress. Full of opportunities."
After a few seconds, he spoke. "You big oaf, I still haven't decided if we should team up again. You're getting dumber."
"Hmph. And is the name 'Twisted Fate' any less dumb? Being seen with you is bad for my image."
"You have to admit, it's a lot better than 'Tobias'."
"You've got a point there."
They both laughed, and for a moment, it felt like old times again.
Suddenly, Graves's expression turned serious. He stared intently into Twisted Fate's eyes.
"I'm going to say this once. If you ever dare to sell me out again—if the thought even crosses your mind—I will shoot you dead."
Twisted Fate's smile vanished. He looked at Graves quietly for a moment, then another smile spread across his face.
"Fair enough."
Razorfish, Tidal Horrors, and other sea monsters began to circle them, their forms gliding around the plank.
A pirate suddenly surfaced, trying frantically to grab onto their makeshift raft. Graves kicked him away with a savage boot. A deep-sea beetle launched itself from the water and clamped onto the pirate's upper body. He was dragged under with a final, gurgling scream.
"Looks like everything we just said was for nothing…"
"Hey, you got any cards left?" Graves asked. Seeing Twisted Fate stare at him like he was an idiot, he said no more, broke off a piece of wood, and began to paddle.
Just then, a sea monster, six or seven meters long, breached the surface. The two men on the plank watched it, a look of resignation on their faces.
Suddenly, a large fireball slammed into the monster, followed immediately by a blade of wind and a volley of gunshots. The creature fell back into the sea, its blood attracting the other monsters to a feeding frenzy.
"Hey, fellas. Looks like someone here needs a hand." A small boat pulled up alongside them. Ren had arrived. As he spoke, he maneuvered the boat closer and extended a hand to them.
Graves immediately picked up Twisted Fate, passed him to Ren, and then scrambled into the boat himself.
"Brother, you saved our lives," Graves said to Ren, his expression solemn. Then he broke into a grin. "Twisted Fate is loaded. He'll reward you. Let's see… once he's healed up, he'll give you five hundred… no, five thousand Golden Krakens."
"Hahaha!"
Watching Twisted Fate's face grow darker and darker, Graves amended the five hundred to five thousand and, ignoring him completely, burst out laughing.