The wooden planks creaked under their steps as Allan and Bory crossed a bridge. It was a ramshackle bridge — made from wrecked ships — hanging over a pit choked with jagged boards.
"Are you alright, Mr. Bory?" asked Allan as he galloped along.
"Yeah, kid!" Bory replied. "I ain't made of salt!"
Behind them, an explosion echoed. It was the giant crab.
"What in the name of a rotten fish do they want from us!?"
"I've no idea. Lurcard might be able to tell us… if he's still alive."
"He better be alive!" Bory barked. "'Cause he owes us an explanation!"
As Allan and Bory reached the other side, the giant crab made an extraordinary leap, kicking up a cloud of dust. The two sailors ran without stopping, eyes locked on the path ahead.
The path wound its way through the wrecks, passed through a three-masted ship, and opened onto a gently sloping plain. When they reached the edge of the plain, a stretch of sand extended all the way to the horizon, dotted with broken masts jutting from the ground and the scattered carcasses of ships.
But suddenly, a growing shadow fell over them. Surprised, the two sailors looked up—and saw the terrible silhouette of the crustacean descending upon them.
"Holy fi—!" gasped Bory, stunned.
The massive creature loomed ever closer over their heads… and the sight froze Bory in place.
"Mr. Bory!" Allan shouted.
The crab was nearly upon them. Showing exceptional courage, the young sailor turned toward his companion and shoved him forcefully.
Thrown backward, Bory couldn't believe it. He… he did that… for me?
The crab landed heavily right where Allan had been standing. A cloud of dust rose into the air. Bory crashed hard onto his back but immediately scrambled up to check on the young man.
No! No! his thoughts screamed. He sacrificed himself for me! No!
The dust cloud was beginning to clear, and from atop his mount, the Azure Rider glared down at Bory.
"When will you finally understand, Desecrators? You cannot escape punishment!"
Once the dust had settled, the giant decapod's claws were digging into the ground… to pull out the young sailor. Unconscious and wounded in the face.
Moved by his young companion's act, Bory looked around, searching for something to defend himself with. He spotted two broken masts, half-buried in the sand. The sailor yanked them nervously from the ground.
"What do I see there?" the rider reacted. "Do you mean to challenge me, Desecrator?"
"That kid didn't do nothin' wrong!" Bory shouted. "Even if I don't stand a chance against you, you're not takin' him to Paradise! You rotten fish!"
"You dare insult me, Desecrator?"
Just as Bory was about to charge the rider and his mount, Allan groaned. The executioner was taken aback.
"What's this I see? Alive? Quite a sturdy one, for a surface-dweller."
Equally stunned by his young friend's awakening, Bory froze. But when he heard Allan's ragged breathing, his body reacted on its own.
"Take this in your ugly mug, you fried fish!" he roared, grabbing one of the masts. Bory clenched his teeth, tensed the muscles in his arm, and hurled it with all his strength.
The object sliced through the air with a whistle, passing close to the rider's ear. The rider lost his balance. Bory seized the opportunity and hurled the second mast at the joint of the crab's claw. The mast shot straight through and struck true, piercing it. The claw opened and released its prey. Allan collapsed clumsily at the feet of the decapod.
Without wasting a second, Bory rushed to the young man, grabbed him, hoisted him onto his shoulder, and slipped away immediately. He carried his companion farther down the plain.
A little farther off, some rowers —witnesses to the clash between Bory and the giant crab— were hiding behind a wreck.
"Did you see that? That was insane, what he did against that monster!" one of them commented.
"Hey, wait a sec! Isn't that the guy we left on the ship? He survived?!" another rower exclaimed in astonishment.
As he leaned against the hull, Looz heard the comment. A chill ran down his spine. He turned on his heels to glance in the same direction as the five other rowers.
"What we did wasn't right, guys," he said in a trembling voice.
"What are you talking about, Looz?" the first rower snapped, annoyed.
"We didn't help him. But he's still alive. What we did... it's bad luck, Niko," he added, full of remorse.
"Shut it!" barked a third rower. "You're the one bringing bad luck now, just by saying that!"
"We didn't have a choice anyway!" Niko defended. "It was him or us!"
"Yeah, that's right!" the other rowers chimed in.
At that moment, a little further east from their position, there was an explosion. They all twisted their necks toward the blast. To their eyes, it looked like a mushroom cloud of dust, with wooden debris flying in every direction. Beneath the dusty cloud, Looz and his companions spotted other rowers running. There were five of them.
"Look! It's the others!"
Soon, the dust cleared and revealed the source of the explosion: another giant crab.
"Another one!?" Looz's group cried out.
The fleeing rowers were heading —unknowingly— straight toward Looz and the others.
"Oh no! Don't come this way!" Niko yelled, waving his arms in protest.
But the fleeing men kept heading toward the hiding spot regardless. As a result, Niko and his crew bolted, leaving Looz behind while the other escapees rushed toward the area.
Looz glanced toward them and saw the massive crustacean advancing in their wake, the rider perched atop its back.
"Desecrators! You will not escape! This is a sacred realm!"
At the echo of that pronouncement, Looz took to his heels, and the five rowers followed suit.
All of them, without realizing it, were hurrying down into the lowest part of the plain.
Now, Bory with Allan on his shoulder, Niko and his accomplices, Looz and the rest of the rowers were all running at full tilt toward the southern zone, the tireless decapods hot on their heels.
Meanwhile, rough hands were digging into the crust of hardened sand to reach the top edge of the pit. Mathurin was climbing the steep slope, occasionally using masts jutting from the surface as handholds. Below him, Garr did his best to mimic the effort, despite how difficult it was for him. And below Garr was Wylgol.
He was helping the chubby man find footholds, as the latter was so clumsy he could barely manage the climb. But Wylgol's task was threefold: he had to assist his companion, keep climbing himself, and watch — several meters below — to ensure that the rider and his monster didn't spot them during their escape.
Indeed, the pursuer was now urging his beast to dig through the sand where he believed his prey was trapped.
In their cautious and silent ascent, the trio finally managed to reach the top of the slope. Mathurin was the first to pull himself up. He collapsed onto the damp ground, took a moment to catch his breath, and then got back to his feet. Leaning over the edge, he grabbed Garr's hand and pulled.
After several heaves, Garr joined Mathurin at the top. The heavyset man collapsed in turn, exhausted, gasping loudly.
The young sailor went back to the edge of the pit and extended his hand to Wylgol. The latter was climbing without much difficulty. As he neared the end of his ascent, Wylgol reached out toward Mathurin. But the sharp eye of the young lookout caught movement in the pit.
"Captain! We gotta move! He's spotted us!" he shouted.
Without wasting a second, Wylgol pulled himself over the edge and joined his companions.
"Desecrators!" came the voice rising from the pit.
"Yeah. We gotta get the hell out of here!" Wylgol confirmed. As he got back on his feet, he scanned the surroundings.
The turquoise blue of the shifting sky lit up the desolate plain, where the carcasses of ships and broken masts lay rotting. A strange peace hung over the land.
After all they had been through, Wylgol and his companions welcomed this calm with relief—a tranquility that felt like a balm for their restless souls.
But it didn't last long.
A little further to the left, Wylgol and the others heard shouting. Mathurin's sharp eyes immediately spotted movement.
"Captain!"
"I'm listening, Mathurin."
"It's… it's Mister Bory!"
"Bory?!" Wylgol cried out.
And then Bory appeared from behind a wreck, with Allan slung over his shoulder, sprinting in huge strides to put distance between himself and the monstrous crustacean. Moments later, just a few ships away, Niko and his crew came tearing through, running like madmen, followed closely by Looz and the last of the rowers.
Hot on everyone's heels, leaving destruction in their wake, were two more giant crabs.
Stunned by the sight of this wild parade, Wylgol, Mathurin, and Garr momentarily forgot that they too were still in danger.
And that's when the giant decapod, mounted by the rider with violet hair, rose up behind them.
"Bloody hell!" Wylgol shouted at the sight of the creature. Without hesitation, he grabbed his companions.
And like the other fugitives, Wylgol led his group toward the southern zone.
Further south on the plain, she stood — regal and dignified. Her flowing, deep-purple hair cascaded over the pauldrons of her cerulean armor. Her tunic mimicked the scales of a fish, while her boots and gauntlets resembled fins. Dignity radiated from her — not least from the diadem that circled her brow.
"Yes. You are undoubtedly a desecrator," she said in a solemn tone. "I ordered the Guardians to capture the most valiant among you."
Collapsed on the ground, Lurcard hung onto every word from this princess of the sea. Then she lifted her gaze toward the horizon.
"Your companions are coming," she announced.