With every passing minute, the situation grew more volatile.
Catherine single-handedly kept the ship steady, refusing to let it sink, while the sailors barely managed to fend off the frenzied redfins. It seemed things could not possibly get worse—but at that very moment, land appeared in the distance.
On the horizon, a few miles ahead, towering black silhouettes loomed. The northern ridges of Nightingale. Not merely mountains—sheer cliffs.
One did not need to be a genius to imagine the fate of a ship that smashed into those cliffs in the middle of a storm. Unless the vessel suddenly sprouted wings, it was headed for certain ruin.
"The Executioners"—that was what sailors called those mountains. Throughout Eridania's long history, they had ground countless ships to splinters, like jagged fangs.
At that moment, a dull, gnawing despair settled over the entire crew.
Sinbad dragged a palm across his rain-soaked face and lifted his head, searching for even the faintest break in the sky. Instead, he saw several black specks drawing closer in an uneven flock.
Harpies.
Gaunt, elongated bodies, wings like strips of torn leather, faces… almost human, if viewed from afar and in poor light. The sort one would rather not encounter even on a clear day. Especially not now.
"Fuck, perfect!" Sinbad cursed. "What's next? A kraken? Gargoyles? Maybe sirens? Come on! We're just missing them to complete this damned full house of disasters!"
On deck, the sailors continued battling the Black-Feathered Swordfish. Every one of them was short of breath, their movements growing stiffer and more restrained with each passing second.
The hull of the Violet had turned red, like a bridal gown.
Sinbad shifted his gaze to Catherine. She stood braced against the railing, biting her lip. It was obvious she would not last much longer.
"How much longer can you hold?" he asked.
"Half an hour at most. After that—it's over. Either I drop dead where I stand, or I fly off with the children. You know which I'll choose."
She said it without anger, simply as a matter of fact.
Sinbad nodded. The thought of reproaching her never even crossed his mind. Catherine was already doing more than she should have. As a passenger who had paid her fare, she had every right. Someone else might have started demanding a refund by now.
The miscalculation had been his. As captain, he was responsible for bringing the ship into a safe harbor and avoiding storms whenever possible. Instead, they were racing toward the cliffs as if trying to end it all.
He could make excuses—claim it was because of Catherine that they had changed course midway through the voyage—but he did not want to reopen that subject. What was done was done. He had agreed, and he was prepared to shoulder the full responsibility.
Drawing a deep breath, Sinbad looked at her for a long moment. "Then we switch."
She met his gaze. "Are you sure?"
"That's not the point, Catty." He sharply shifted his grip on the saber and handed it to the nearest sailor. "I don't have a choice."
Catherine studied his resolute face for several seconds.
Then she simply exhaled. "All right."
She clapped her hands twice, then formed a seal.
Snowy, who had been perched on the mast with the parrot, lifted off above the deck. In the blink of an eye, the little owl expanded to her original size, her wingspan stretching seven meters wide. For a moment, even the wind changed direction.
The harpies screeched.
"Cassia!" Catherine called.
The maid responded at once. She drew her daggers and leapt onto the bulwark like a graceful cat. The scent of fish blood mixed with saltwater stirred something fierce within her, something almost primal. She licked her crimson lips as if preparing for a feast.
"Children! Not a single step out of the cabin!" Catherine shouted.
Two heads in the windows nodded obediently.
At that very instant, Catherine released all the mana with which she had been holding the ship together. The Violet shuddered—the waves slammed into her sides, and a wall of brine crashed across the deck. The sailors barely kept their footing; only Sinbad, clinging to the wheel, managed to remain upright.
He felt the beams groan and the masts strain.
"Hold fast!" he roared, his voice cutting through the bellow of the sea. "To your stations! Leave the black-feathers—let them drown!"
Catherine felt a strange lightness, as though invisible shackles had fallen away. She drew a breath and invoked the primary ability that set the Sky-Dwellers apart from ordinary mortals—flight.
Her body, wrapped in silvery light, lost its weight and soared upward. Her hair, as if woven from moonbeams, streamed through the storm's vortex, and her blue eyes gleamed like the depths of the sea.
She swept her arms outward—and the chaotic wind took shape. The air transformed into dozens of crescent blades that hurtled down at the water's surface with frenzied speed.
With muted splashes, the Black-Feathered Swordfish rose belly-up. It did not matter whether they leapt to attack or lurked beneath the waves waiting—the wind blades could reach them all.
Those that managed to break through were dispatched at once by Cassia. Her daggers flickered like grim shadows. Each movement was precise, a reaper's dance.
Sinbad and his crew seized control. Their coordinated effort allowed the Violet to ride the crest of a wave and surge along the coastline like a desperate surfer.
His plan bordered on madness—to use the sea's own momentum to pull the ship away from the cliffs. One miscalculation, and the vessel would shatter like fine porcelain. But there was no other choice.
The wheel trembled beneath his fingers as if alive. He felt every strain of the hull, every creak of timber—and answered them instantly, like a seasoned matador taming a raging bull.
A shrill scream tore through the sky—harpies were swooping in from the port side.
"Catherine!" Sinbad shouted, trying to warn her of the danger.
But the warning came too late. Snowy was already airborne.
The giant owl moved without a sound, yet with lethal precision, like a born predator. She slammed into the first harpy, crushed the skull of the second with her beak, and, spreading her wings wide, sent the rest reeling in a violent gust.
Blood sprayed in all directions.
An outside observer might have thought the monsters nothing more than pitiful prey.
Such brutality could have shaken anyone. Even the starving predators understood it was unwise to provoke this vessel—but they had no intention of retreating.
It was as though all sides had reached a fragile stalemate. The Black-Feathered Swordfish kept their distance, the harpies hesitated to approach Snowball and Catherine. Only the Violet continued to drift, hoping to skirt the cliffs.
It looked almost as if the monsters had struck a wager with favorable odds: if the ship sank, the feast would begin; if it survived, they would let it go.
They did not rush to attack, yet neither did they allow Catherine a single moment to relax.
The fragile balance held for an hour.
Sinbad and the crew worked themselves to the brink. Some patched breaches, others hauled fallen men back to their feet, others bailed water by the bucket as the waves tried again and again to swallow the deck. Such reckless navigation drained not only their physical strength, but their minds as well.
The sailors' faces were flushed with strain, the salty spray burned their eyes, and their palms had split into bloody blisters.
"Hold on, you mad bastards, damn you all! I won't hand my Violet over to the Executioners!" the captain shouted hoarsely when he caught sight of a tiny break in the sky.
As if losing interest, the sea finally loosened its grip. The monsters lingering nearby stilled. For several moments they circled at the edge of sight, as though deciding whether the game was worth continuing. Then, one by one, they turned away.
The feast was called off.
================
"Ah-ha-ha, little sister! Looks like I've earned a kiss!" Sinbad beamed, puckering his lips. "Did you see that?! Wasn't I incredible riding that wave? Who else in all of Eridania could pull off a stunt like that, huh?"
With the stress cast aside, he slipped straight back into the role of an incorrigible scoundrel. Adrenaline still coursed through his veins, giving him a heady sense of invulnerability. After all, only a couple of hours ago he had been balancing on the razor's edge between life and death.
Perhaps Persephone herself favored him.
If not now, then when would fate offer such a chance? He was eager to press his advantage—especially since they would soon be parting ways.
Catherine did not bother with courtesy—a sharp slap snapped the pirate back to his senses far better than cold water ever could.
"Heh-heh-heh, I see you're particularly fond of hanging upside down," she said with an irritated smirk. "Are you sure you don't have masochistic tendencies? Filthy pirate, where's your conscience? Did you sink it along with your morals?"
Sinbad brushed off the accusations as easily as raindrops. He genuinely seemed to enjoy gambling with his life, teasing and flirting with it. Especially when she was in a good mood. The shameless rogue never missed an opportunity.
Sometimes Catherine felt that all men were equally insufferable. Could they not see her simply as a friend? Why did everything have to turn into pointless flirtation?
She was the mother of two children! Gray and Grace were standing nearby.
Did he truly not see that? Or did he simply not care?
The more she thought about his behavior, the angrier she became. Mana gradually gathered in her fist. The idea of eliminating witnesses by smashing his head in seemed increasingly appealing with every passing moment.
Sensing the smell of trouble—or rather, fried pirate—Sinbad wisely changed the subject:
"I'll admit, this has been a remarkable journey. I've earned gold, new enemies, and a friend—all just like in the legends. But it's time for us to part ways. How can I reach you, sister?"
"Stop calling me sister!" Catherine snapped, but realizing the argument was pointless, she let out a heavy sigh. "I'm heading to the northwest of the Nightingale continent, into the lands of the Offended Souls. You'd better not try to find me for the next ten years. Show up there any sooner, and you'll be eaten alive."
She tilted her head and gave him a grim smile. "And if, during that time, you don't become a Sky-Dweller… I'll make you a model servant of the emperor. Got it?"
Sinbad raised his hands, then quickly lowered them, protecting what little dignity he had left.
"Servant of the emperor? Aren't they all eunuchs? Damn… she's actually angry," he muttered, barely finishing his thought before breaking out into a sweat like a pig.
"Why are you like this with me? I was only joking. It'll be hard for us to see each other next time."
Catherine thought for a moment and decided to forgive his antics. There was only a little longer to endure. In a few minutes, they would part ways. Let him enjoy himself.
After a moment, she handed him a small device—a crystal encased in a silver ring.
"Here. When you come within a hundred thousand miles of me, it will light up. That way, we can find each other—if fate decides we are meant to meet again."
He lifted the object to his eyes. At first glance, it looked like an ordinary crystal, but a closer look revealed an intricate engraving. The symbols were mysterious, almost impossible to memorize. Look away, and the memory of them slipped from the mind.
"This isn't just a trinket," Catherine explained. "The crystal was made from resonant ores by one of the finest artisan-smiths. I have one myself. This device is indispensable for locating the right person."
"So… it's an invitation. Only… to a date or an execution," Sinbad said, lowering his voice as much as he could. Then he wished her well: "Well then, safe travels! Watch out for vampires. Though they usually prefer virgins, your appearance and power could provoke them even more than any innocent girl."
Catherine rolled her eyes, but the corner of her mouth twitched.
"Safe travels to you as well. Don't pick on the innocent, and beware the strong. I'm sure you can handle it. And don't let anyone know you've been in Nightingale. Create an alibi and keep your crew in check, or you'll end up on the gallows together faster than us."
Sinbad just shrugged. "No worries. My guys aren't fools. They'd sooner tell how you hung me upside down than reveal who you are. Everyone here has their own story."
As she was walking away, Catherine glanced back. "By the way… about that story. I'm curious—how did you get back after your vice-captain betrayed you? You can keep silent if it's a secret."
"Umm… sister, are you sure you want to know?" Sinbad hesitated, looking almost like a bashful girl.
"Fufufu. Now I'm really curious," she squinted, teasing.
"Alright. Alright, I'll tell you. I was caught by mermaids and…"
He immediately lowered his voice, whispering so softly it was as if he feared anyone else might hear.
"…and they… raped me."
In that moment, Sinbad resembled a timid little girl. It was unclear whether he had enjoyed the experience, but he wasn't angry, just slightly flushed with embarrassment.
"You know that's how they reproduce, right? They snatch unsuspecting sailors, use them as… sexual slaves, and when they're done, toss them onto some random shore. But I impressed them so much that they gave me a lifeboat and escorted me back to the Violet."
"AHHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
Catherine nearly doubled over with laughter. She clutched her stomach, gasping for air, wiping tears from her eyes. Watching a thick-skinned pirate recount such a mortifying story was utterly priceless.
She nimbly climbed onto Snowy's back, still snickering, and glanced over her shoulder, mock-saluting him goodbye.
"Farewell, victim of violence. Take care of yourself. Who knows… maybe someone else will like you too."
Sinbad watched her figure recede into the distance, his thoughts unreadable.
A sailor noticed the captain's melancholy mood, patted him on the shoulder in support, and nudged him forward.
"Captain, you absolutely have to make that woman yours. If I were you, I'd follow her to the ends of the world!"
Sinbad nearly jumped.
"Shut up, Bolton, you bastard! What if she hears you?! And besides, our relationship is purely platonic. Haven't you heard me call her my sister?"
"Ah… of course!" Bolton spat in disgust. "And here I am, a monk practicing abstinence, praying to the gods of chastity every evening."
==============
Dear readers, I have to inform you that this work was rejected when applying for a contract without the possibility of revision. Therefore, I was forced to create a second version of the book, where I will publish the latest updates.
I will not give up on this version, but some chapters will be posted a little later than in the main one.
The book is called "The Mad Immortal"
https://www.webnovel.com/book/the-mad-immortal_34969618200258905###
Many thanks for your support, active comments and reviews.
This will help more readers to get acquainted with my book, which means my chances of getting a contract will increase and you will receive content more often. (The author also needs to eat and provide for his family)