CHAPTER 3 — Mock Town, Where Order Goes to Die
The pirate ship creaked as it bumped against the dock of Mock Town. Wood groaned and ropes strained under the stress, a sound that seemed almost alive, complaining under the weight of the ship's slow, tired movement.
The water sloshed against the hull, carrying with it the smell of the sea, salt, oil, and decay, but beneath it all lingered something fouler, something that spoke of the town itself, the smell of sweat, rot, old blood, and alcohol mixed into a pungent, choking haze.
Noise came first. Shouts, laughter, screams, and gunfire collided with one another, bouncing from building to building like an endless wave.
Men fought over nothing, sometimes for sport, sometimes for food, sometimes simply to pass the time. A drunk fired his gun into the air and cheered at the echo. Somewhere, a man's scream ended abruptly, met with laughter from a crowd of bystanders.
Music played from a tattered drum, someone else sang drunkenly, the song no one cared to remember. It was chaotic, ugly, alive, but it was life without law.
Caelum stood at the front of the ship, unmoving. The sunlight caught his armor, reflecting bright, warm gold that contrasted violently against the gray and brown decay of the docks.
The boards beneath his feet creaked with every step, but he did not hurry. He did not glance around nervously. He did not speak. He simply stood.
The ship bumped fully against the dock. Ropes were thrown, caught, and tied down with practiced care by the remaining pirates.
Around him, the chaos of the town pressed closer. Pirates on the dock noticed him first with curiosity, then with suspicion.
Some stopped what they were doing. Some laughed a little too loudly. Some forgot entirely how to breathe for a moment. Then came the whispers.
"Is that real gold?"
"That's got to be worth a fortune."
"Look at the size of him…"
Some of the men felt something else. It was subtle, more felt than seen. Their stomachs tightened. Their hands shook slightly.
A chill ran up their spines. They did not know why. Standing near him felt wrong in a way that could not be explained. They could not articulate it, but instinct screamed that this man was not like the others.
Something in his presence demanded obedience, attention, even fear, but most of them ignored it.
Gold blinded them.
Caelum stepped off the ship. His boots struck the dock, and the sound seemed small, but every pirate within fifty meters noticed it.
He walked slowly, deliberately, without haste, without hesitation. He did not look like someone unsure of himself.
He looked like someone who belonged everywhere and nowhere at once. The creaking wood beneath his steps seemed to follow him, marking his passage like a drumbeat of warning. People instinctively moved out of his way.
A few even stepped back several paces, though they were too ashamed or too greedy to show fear outright.
Behind him, the navigator of the pirate ship cleared his throat. His voice shook.
"S-sir… can we now go out?"
The rest of the crew hesitated, standing pale and uncertain behind him. Some had minor cuts, some were bruised from fights earlier in the day, all wanted nothing more than to leave. Their eyes flitted between Caelum and the dock, calculating, hoping, praying for a chance to escape.
Caelum stopped.
Caelum turned. Slowly. Methodically. His red eyes scanned them once. They did not blink, did not flinch.
They did not understand that the simple motion of his gaze carried weight far beyond their comprehension.
For a moment, he said nothing. He only looked. His red pearl eyes were steady, calm, unyielding. Deep, silent waters in which any human mind would drown if it lingered too long.
He gave a single small nod.
The navigator let out a sharp breath, relief washing over him, but it was a foolish relief. He should have known better than to be greedy.
Then Caelum lifted his axe.
The blade moved once.
The navigator's scream never formed. Blood sprayed across the dock.
His body split neatly in two, falling with a sickening finality. The others could not move fast enough. Shock froze them where they stood.
Caelum stepped forward, deliberate, slow, precise.
Another swing of the axe took down two men at once, their limbs and torsos crumpling like paper under the force.
Another man tried to turn, to flee, but Caelum's hand caught his head and crushed it in a grip that left no room for struggle.
Bone snapped like dry twigs. There was no mercy. There was no hesitation.
He grabbed another by the chest and hurled him with calculated force. The body slammed into the street, crashing into the dirt and stones in front of a pirate who had been staring greedily at the gold on Caelum's armor.
The pirate blinked. He swallowed hard. He looked at the mangled body at his feet. Slowly, carefully, he began to turn around. A few steps later, he broke into a sprint, screaming in terror as the reality of what he was witnessing sank in.
All around, pirates who had been staring with greedy eyes woke up.
Fear spread fast.
Some stepped back.
Some looked away.
Some swallowed hard.
One pirate, dressed better than the others and wearing a long coat, slipped into an alley. He ran toward the center of town.
"There's a man in gold," he panted as he ran. "Not normal. Not human."
He was going to Bellamy.
Caelum's eyes swept the dock and streets beyond. Every detail registered: the absence of guards, the lack of law, the open fighting, the men robbing the drunk and injured, the small skirmishes over nothing.
Guns fired, knives drawn, fists swinging, not for justice, not for protection, but for amusement.
It was as simple as it was ugly.
No order.
No rules.
Only strength.
Weak people were used. Strong people were followed.
In his mind, the town was simple:
Not ready to be ruled.
Not worth mercy.
But useful for gathering information.
He began walking into the town itself, boots echoing against stone and dirt. Pirates began to gather around him.
Some were afraid, their hands trembled on their weapons. Most, though, were greedy. They saw only the gold.
They imagined the fortune they could claim, the praise of their captain, the rise in status among their peers.
"Hey!" one shouted. "That armor is ours!"
"Take it off!" another yelled.
A man with sharp eyes and a big knife stepped forward. "Give it to Captain Bellamy," he said with a grin. "Maybe we let you live."
"Yeah!" others shouted.
"Listen to Sarquiss!"
"Boss Sarquiss got a big bounty!"
They saw his face now. No helmet. Calm eyes. No fear.
They thought his silence meant he was scared.
A pirate with a flintlock stepped out from the group, confident, eager, imagining the praise he would receive from Bellamy. He grinned widely. He raised his weapon without caution.
He walked forward, not careful at all.
Caelum watched him come.
In his mind, the thought was simple:
These humans here are truly fools.
The pirate raised his gun.
Caelum's axe moved.
One clean swing.
The man was cut in half. His gun fell in two pieces.
For a moment, no one spoke.
Then anger exploded.
"Kill him!"
"Get him!"
Sarquiss let out a roar and charged forward, raising his massive knife high. He didn't dwell on how the pirate who went first had fallen, he just figured the guy had been careless, and that's why he died so easily.
"Go, boss!"
"38 million bounty!"
"Show him!"
Sarquiss swung his blade. He looked into Caelum's eyes.
Red.
Cold.
Endless.
Like staring into the grave of his own soul. His swing faltered for just a fraction of a second.
His knife slowed just a little.
That was enough.
Caelum swung again.
Sarquiss was cut clean through.
For a second, half of him still stood. Then both parts fell.
Silence settled. Blood ran freely into the dirt.
The streets, filthy and chaotic just moments before, froze. Pirates stared. Greed vanished from their faces, replaced by something primal: fear.
Caelum stood still in the middle of them, golden armor bright in the dirty town.
They finally understood.
They were not hunters.
They were already prey.
~~~
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