The chamber held a modestly sized cell, carved into the wall and enclosed by iron bars. Within it sat Rhaziel, drained and hollow, stripped of the strength he had once built for himself. The power to sever souls—his defining weapon—had now been severed from him.
The silence was broken by the echo of approaching footsteps. Heavy boots struck against the stone floor, each step deliberate, accompanied by the faint rustle of a white marine cape that trailed behind, swaying with the draft his movement stirred.
"I see you've found yourself in quite the predicament, Rhaziel," came the voice, sharp and unwavering. "In the end, your so-called power was nothing more than a way to inflict your own suffering onto others. A peculiar kind of delusion, really. I once believed you might wield a force that could rival divinity itself. But now? You've proven to be nothing more than a shallow, one-dimensional fraud. Tell me, how does that truth sit with you?"
Rhaziel remained composed, his expression giving little away as the voice registered instantly in his mind. He knew it well—it was a voice that lingered in both his past and his inevitable future. "So, Desmond… you came all this way just to mock me?"
Desmond smirked with the satisfaction of someone who already knew the bet had been won, his expression carrying the smugness of a man who had been waiting for this very moment. In his mind, it had only ever been a matter of time before Rhaziel's pride would tip the scale against him, his own confidence becoming the very flaw that dragged him down into inevitable defeat.
"All that build-up, all those stories I heard whispered from one mouth to another, traveling across the lands like wildfire," Desmond said, his voice dripping with mockery as his grin stretched wider. "And yet, standing here now, I find myself wondering… was it all just empty rumor? Because if I'm honest, you certainly haven't lived up to the expectations they carved around your name." He let the silence linger for a moment before tilting his head slightly, his smile twisting into something darker. "Though… I cannot deny one thing. You did achieve a victory that no one else in this world managed to secure. You removed that white-haired pirate from the picture once and for all. That alone earns you a measure of my respect."
He raised his chin with a sinister poise, his face partly swallowed by the shadows, the dim light turning his skin into something that seemed almost carved out of a nightmare. "The marines suffered greatly trying to stop that man. Every attempt failed, every effort turned to dust. And yet, in the end, it was you who brought his legacy crumbling down to its final wake. I can't help but admire that, even if only slightly. So, as a gesture of appreciation for your… contribution to our cause, I'll grant you something precious. I'll let you walk free from this cell." His grin sharpened, a predator revealing its teeth. "But only on one condition. From this point forward, you'll serve beneath me. You'll obey my command without hesitation. So tell me, Rhaziel… do you accept?"
Rhaziel's vacant eyes lifted and locked onto Desmond's with a piercing intensity. There was something about the proposition—about the promise of freedom—that stirred a curiosity in the man who had always operated alone.
"Work under your command to earn my release? That's a selfish request for someone who's spent their life following the government's orders…" he began, but Desmond cut him off sharply with a rap against the cell bars.
"Let's not forget, Rhaziel," Desmond said smoothly, his voice carrying both authority and persuasion, "you've served the government yourself. This isn't a compromise—it's an opportunity. Join me, and you'll gain far more benefits, far more freedom than you ever have before. All it takes is one signature, a pledge of loyalty. Sign, and you walk out of here a free man. I'll handle all the paperwork myself."
Rhaziel's gaze fell on the document resting before him. He had no intention of remaining in this cell longer than necessary. His eyes narrowed, sharp and deliberate. "Give me the paper."
But in the shadows, May watched. She had overheard every word, her eyes flashing with barely contained fury. "That scumbag…" she thought, teeth gritting. "Of course it would be Desmond behind this. After all the effort she's put in, and he's just going to be set free? I have to report this to the agency."
Without another sound, she melted into the corridor, moving like a shadow, silent and precise, every step calculated as if she were a trained assassin. Still, even as she slipped away unnoticed, Desmond felt a strange presence brushing against the edge of his awareness. He paused briefly, a flicker of curiosity crossing his features, before shrugging it off and allowing a self-satisfied smirk to spread across his face.
Further away from the jail cell building, Chiaki and Razor busied themselves packing for the journey to the Land of Armagh.
Chiaki carefully organized their supplies, ensuring they had proper clothing for the temperature shifts and enough water to store on Venos' boat—a necessity for surviving the desert ahead. Razor, on the other hand, seemed less concerned with strategy and more with instinct, tossing in a pile of fresh, uncooked meat as if that alone would be enough.
"Looks like you're having a blast!" Venos called out with a grin, leaning casually on the boat's railing as he watched Chiaki and Razor. Razor, absorbed in chasing fish with her shark-like tail, was silent for once, her tongue slipping as she studied the swimming creatures with the focus of a child completely lost in play.
"I wouldn't call it a blast," Chiaki replied, dropping a bag into Venos' cabin where he steered the boat. "But you did miss most of what went down while we were here."
Venos waved his hand with mock protest. "Ah, come on, lighten up! I'm just trying to cheer you up. Though… we're missing that other girl. She not coming? What was her name again…?"
Chiaki turned to face him, composed and steady, betraying none of the anxiety or hesitation she might have felt. "Fioren? She's gone elsewhere. For now, it's just the two of us going. Only us."
Hearing that only Chiaki and Razor were heading to the Land of Armagh left Venos utterly stunned. For a moment, words failed him, and he just stood there, staring. Finally, he snapped back, clearing his throat into his fist as he forced himself to continue. His tone, for once, shifted from his usual playfulness into something much heavier.
"I-I mean… that's not exactly reassuring, Chiaki. The Land of Armagh isn't some place you stroll into for a vacation. It's crawling with danger. Going there with just the two of you… that's reckless. Insane, even. That land belongs to forces people dare not provoke. One of them is a Sea Noble who treats the place like his personal throne. Have you ever heard of Thoren, the Root Tyrant? He's there, waiting. A monster in every sense of the word. If you go up against him… I don't know if either of you will come back alive."
The tension clung to the boat's small deck, Venos' warning sinking into the air like a heavy weight. Chiaki, however, didn't flinch. She already knew the risks, the dangers that awaited them beyond the horizon. Shanya had likely gathered the rest of their crew elsewhere, hopefully finding them shelter far from prying eyes. That thought gave Chiaki a measure of calm.
But before the atmosphere could grow any darker, Razor shattered it with her usual chaotic energy. She jumped forward, waving her arms dramatically, her voice screeching with manic glee.
"Root Tyrant! Vine Tyrant! Weed King! Salad Monster! Bla-bla-bla—up, down, inside-out! Who cares! We'll chop that plant-brained broccoli-beast into garden mulch, ya hear?!" She tugged down her lower eyelid with one finger, sticking her tongue out straight at Venos like a mocking child.
Venos rubbed the back of his neck, his voice low and serious. "Razor, listen. Something happened. I overheard—"
"Whoa-whoa-whoa, pump the brakes, Captain Eyebrows," Razor cut him off, throwing her arms out in an exaggerated traffic-stop pose, legs spread wide like she was guarding a goal. She tilted her head dramatically and stuck her tongue out. "If this is about me eating your sandwich, first of all, it wasn't me. Second of all, if it was me, it was absolutely delicious."
Venos frowned, already regretting speaking. "It's not about food. It's about Thoren—"
"Thoren?" Razor gasped theatrically, slapping her cheeks and spinning in a little circle, landing in a crouch with one hand dramatically pointing at Venos. "Ohhh, you mean Mr. Rooty McPlantface? The guy who looks like he photosynthesizes for a living? Please tell me he sprouts leaves when he's mad." She crossed her eyes for emphasis, then stuck out her tongue again.
"Razor, this is serious. He's—"
"Serious?!" Razor shrieked, hopping onto the nearest barrel like it was a stage, legs bent in a mock heroic stance. She flailed her arms wide, making faces like she was narrating an epic tragedy. "The only thing serious in this godforsaken world is how underrated mayonnaise is. Do you even respect mayo, Captain Eyebrows? You can put it on bread, potatoes, meat—heck, I once used it as hair gel. Beautiful results." She waggled her eyebrows wildly, then made a dramatic fainting pose for effect.
Venos dragged a hand down his face, mumbling, "Why do I even try…"
"And why," Razor leapt down with a wild grin full of sharp teeth, jabbing his finger at his chest, "do you keep pretending you don't like the attention, Captain Eyebrows? Now quit with the suspense. Spill the doom-nuggets about Mr. Rooty before I start preaching about cheese next." She ended with a mock bow, legs kicked out to one side and tongue sticking straight out, eyes crossed for maximum chaos.
Chiaki stood quietly, sweat tracing down her face as she rubbed her cheek, eyes half-shut but slightly widened at the scene unfolding before her. "She's lively as ever…" she murmured, a small, tired smile tugging at her lips.
In the background, Venos' voice rose above the gentle slap of the waves against the boat. "Razor, for the love of—just stop for one second and listen!"
"Listen? HA! The only thing I'm listening to is my stomach growling, Admiral Frownypants!" Razor shouted back, springing up onto a crate and spinning in a wide circle, tongue lolling out, eyes crossed for effect.
Venos lunged toward her, trying to grab her arm and pull her down to talk seriously, but she slipped out of his grasp with a flick of her wrist, landing in a crouch like a cat ready to pounce. "Too slow, Captain Fuzzybeard!" she called gleefully, darting back a few steps, then throwing her arms out as if to cast some imaginary spell.
"Razor! I'm not joking—Thoren isn't just some joke!" Venos yelled, chasing after her, only for her to leap sideways, flipping onto the railing of the boat and landing perfectly balanced with a theatrical bow.
Chiaki shook her head, letting out a soft, amused sigh. "And I thought things would be calmer this trip…"
Razor didn't miss a beat, crouching low, pointing both fingers at Venos like twin pistols, winking exaggeratedly. "Boom! Gotcha again, Captain Lumps-a-Lot! Try and catch me now!"
Venos groaned, rubbing his temples. "I swear, this is impossible…"
"Impossible? That's cute, Admiral Twinkletoes!" Razor squealed, hopping onto the crate again, sticking her tongue out, and making exaggerated jazz-hands.
"Razor, enough—"
"Oh, never enough, Sir Gloomy-Pants!" she interrupted, spinning, landing in a ridiculous karate pose. "Seriously, you need to get a style! Maybe Captain Squintypie next?"
Chiaki's lips twitched in a half-smile, her calm presence in sharp contrast to the chaos Razor continued to unleash.
Venos gritted his teeth, finally giving up on trying to reason with Razor. With a swift motion, he pulled the throttle of the boat's engine, sending a powerful surge forward.
"Wha—HEY!" Razor shrieked, arms flailing as her feet slipped on the wet deck. She yelped comically as her balance betrayed her entirely, flopping and sliding like a cartoon character on ice… before finally shooting over the railing with a splash, plunging straight into the ocean.
Venos exhaled sharply, relief washing over him for a moment—until a strange ripple behind the boat caught his attention. His eyes widened.
Razor's grin broke across her face, teeth sharp as ever. "You didn't think I'd just let you leave me behind, did you, Admiral Tentacle-Fingers?"
With a horrifyingly fast movement, her hands twisted and stretched into long, fluid tentacles, cutting through the water like a predatory shark. She propelled herself forward at impossible speed, creating a spray of seawater that hit Venos in the face and made him stumble back from the wheel.
Chiaki, seated calmly on the deck with her arms crossed, raised an eyebrow. "She's ridiculous… and terrifying."
Venos panicked, eyes darting between the approaching shark-tentacle hybrid and the boat's controls. "Chiaki! Do something! She's—she's coming for us!"
Razor shot through the waves like a missile, hair slicked back and wild, tongue sticking out as she launched herself closer. "I told you, Captain Gloomy-Pants! I never lose a race!"
Chiaki let out a soft sigh, barely shifting her gaze from her relaxed position. "Yeah… I can see that."
Venos frantically twisted the wheel, trying to dodge, while Razor's tentacle hands splashed and lunged forward, each strike almost like a clawing shark reaching for its prey.
"Chiaki! She's going to—she's going to—" Venos stammered, panic rising in his voice, "—drag us back into the ocean!"
"Relax," Chiaki said dryly, tilting her head. "She's just competitive. Let her have her fun."
Razor's face broke into a wild grin as she gained on the boat, spraying water in all directions, clearly enjoying every second of her chaotic pursuit.
To be continued...