Radeon moved in that new young body as if it had always been his. Sharp cheekbones, a clean jaw, and eyes bright with quick hunger.
He drew one breath. Blood qi surged through his legs, the art the cultists favored.
Radeon sprinted straight across the stones toward the weary guard from the spirit ship he'd boarded moments ago.
The guard was tired, not slow. At the cornerstone stage, reflex still counted for something. He set his feet and met the charge.
Steel rang. The guard's blade came in hard and fast, a counter aimed for Radeon's chest.
Radeon jumped into it. The swing cut air under him as he tucked his knees and let the guard's force carry him up.
For an instant he was above the man's reach, coatless and clean in the open space, sword trailing behind his shoulder.
The guard's mouth twitched, a smug little curl, like he had just confirmed what he expected.
Radeon's left hand snapped out. Needles shot from his fingers and punched into the guard's neck.
Not deep enough to kill, deep enough to catch. The man's body locked mid-step, muscles seizing as if an unseen hand had yanked his spine straight.
He never found a scream. Radeon jerked the silk line. Qi ran through it and turned it rigid as wire.
Space folded in a blink and Radeon was there, right in front of the frozen man.
He let the sword clatter away. Both hands plunged into the man's eye socket.
Radeon planted both hands on the guard's shoulders, claws scrabbling for leverage, then yanked hard.
Neck tendon stretched and snapped. The head came free in his hands.
The body stayed standing for a heartbeat, neck pouring red.
The blood did not fall. It hung in the air, trembling, then began to swirl into an orb.
Cult technique. Sanguine Triumvirate Arts. A hungry skill that took what a body spilled and made it strength.
'This art isn't bad. And they handed it to a junior like Giovanni. Interesting…'
Radeon processed it as he scanned for his next target. He had no intention of letting even the spirit ship's crew roam free.
He picked up his sword and snapped his hand up. The blood above him pulled taut, then needled into spikes.
They shot forward, fast and straight, cutting the air as they drove for the old first mate's vital organs.
The old sky sailor was ready. He drew both daggers in one smooth pull and brought them up hard.
The first spike hit his right blade and sheared in two, fragments skipping past his cheek.
He turned his wrists and caught the next on crossed steel. It rang once and skipped away.
A third came in low. The first mate stepped into it and knocked it aside with a short chop, never giving ground.
His feet stayed planted. His shoulders stayed tight. His eyes never left Radeon.
"Boy, you're seventy years too green to come for a first mate's head," the old man snarled, breath hissing through his teeth.
Radeon gave the old first mate his due. He sprang back and yanked a sword free from the dead guard's slack grip.
With twin swords in his hands. Radeon met the old man's stare and lunged.
The old man did not dodge. He stepped in close, inside the line of the sword, and met the sword line with his blades.
Metal rang and sparks jumped. His cultivation was higher, and he drove Radeon back every in every exchange.
The old man narrowed the gap. His eyes flicked once, weighing whether to take the arm or the neck.
Radeon saw the pause. He drove qi into his leg and kicked hard.
His heel sank into the old man's ribs. Something cracked sharp and clean.
The old man jumped back. Qi surged under his skin. The broken ribs locked in place. A thin blade snapped out from between his fingers at Radeon's throat.
Radeon twisted away, not enough. It nicked his neck. Warm blood ran, steady but not spraying.
No artery. The old man clicked his tongue and took a stance.
Radeon let his shoulders sag, playing it poorly on purpose. He let both swords clatter onto the cold floor and bent as if he was winded.
The old man knew the feint. He had done it dozens of times himself. He tried to pry out an opening, reading where Radeon would likely guard.
Radeon snatched up one sword and parried. The impact jolted his right arm. Too strong.
His wrist cracked broken. Radeon's left hand sword came tardy, too late to stop the follow-up cut.
The old man smashed down on the incoming blade. It went light. Radeon had already let go.
His right hand snapped back into place and drove the sword forward.
The blade slid deep. Radeon felt it bite lung. He missed the heart by inches.
The old man let the blade pass through him and kept coming, both daggers rising toward Radeon's neck.
Needles burst from Radeon's left hand in a tight spray.
"Cheating bastard!" the old man bellowed, spittle flying. "Fight straight!"
Radeon raked the old man's left hand with an upward claw strike.
The dagger leapt into the air. Radeon dropped his head and spun into a low kick.
His heel connected with the dagger in midair. The blade pierced the old man's temple and buried itself there.
Radeon didn't stop there. He snatched up the first mate's other dagger and put it to work on the man.
He hacked at the neck stump, split the shoulders, and drove the blade down into the ribs until the body came apart in ugly pieces.
To anyone watching, it was rage. A young man taking offense, desecrating a man who had dared press him.
He even spat once, hard, like the corpse had earned it. Inside, Radeon stayed cold.
Flesh and bone folded into him and vanished, swallowed whole the way Giovanni had been.
But Radeon did not let anyone see that. He kept his own technique buried.
"Sail Knife. That's what they call him, huh. Might open a few doors."