If a man is born in hell, he will become a devil.
Incapable of emotions. Driven only by desire and goal to survive. What use is the world to the devil a being without the understanding of emotions? A devil will eat his own mother to survive. Even to another devil, they are still a great threat. The nature of a devil is without good a great darkness.
It is foolish to think that one can chew the heart of a devil. A devil is still a devil, even if it is in the presence of good and holiness.
That is the true nature of Gareth.
Gareth stood on his beast as he watched the horror that was going on around him. His face was still. His eyes were cold. His heart that organ that should have been pumping with fear, with shock, with humanity remained steady.
He did not feel any different.
This was like a daily life for him. When he was living. When the world was still real. When he had been a child on the streets, watching men kill each other over scraps of bread, over coins, over nothing. This was the world he had been born into. This was the world he had survived.
Yet even this devil still showed some form of compassion.
This devil still felt human.
Perhaps his humanity stemmed from the fact that he was saved by Arthur Pendragon. The king who had seen a monster and called him a man. The king who had forgiven betrayal and offered friendship. The king who had loved a devil and made him feel.
Gareth bent down.
He moved in the manner a father would reach out to their own son his hand extending, his fingers spreading, his palm pressing against the beast's scales. He hugged the creature.
It was simply emotional to him.
Within a short time, he had formed a bond with the beast. The intent he used to control it did not just submit it under his control it also eroded into him. He had poured so much of himself into the creature that something had changed. Something had formed. A connection that could not be normally formed.
He whispered to the ear of the beast.
"Even if you're not able to resist it..." His voice was soft, almost tender. "...at least survive."
He pressed his forehead against its scales.
"Grow stronger." He paused. "And survive."
He pulled back.
"Any action that you're able to take to survive take it." His voice hardened. "Even if it means going beyond anything you are."
He looked into the beast's eyes.
"Survive." He touched its face. "And see me."
His voice dropped.
"You have become something special to me. Something I cannot let go."
He released the beast.
"But for the sake of my king..." He straightened. "...I must continue alone."
He raised his hand.
"Beast of the sea..." He paused. "I hereby name you... Dameon."
His voice was absolute.
"Go forward." His eyes burned. "And devour everything."
Gareth continued to use intent on the beast.
He brought out a great and large amount of killing intent more than he had ever used, more than he had known he could produce. It flooded everything around him, taking out pirates and beasts alike that were all around him. The dark, heavy mist spread across the water, engulfing ships, swallowing men, choking the life from the chaos.
Many saw it.
They saw the dark mist and felt the weight of it pressing against their souls. None of them could even think of approaching. Their minds screamed at them to run. Their bodies froze in terror. The mist was not just fear it was death.
It was Gareth.
Gareth jumped off his beast.
His body launched through the air soaring over the chaos, closing the distance to one of the vessels on the sea. He landed on the deck, his feet slamming against the wood, his body coiling with the force of the impact.
Then he unleashed.
Like a beast on the verge of death, he moved fast, brutal, absolute. It did not matter who was in his front. He cut them down and kept going. He did not stop. He did not slow. He became the storm.
A monster is what they saw him as.
A beast out of this world.
Pirates fell before him their bodies splitting, their blood spraying, their screams silenced before they could even form. Navy men charged and died. Gareth did not discriminate. Did not hesitate. Did not care.
He stabbed them in the lungs.
His blade pierced flesh, shattered ribs, punctured organs. He tore out their rib cages with his bare hands bone crunching, muscle tearing, blood pouring and held down their throats until they lost every life in them.
He made a pile of bodies in a minute.
And kept on going.
His body brought out steam because of the level he pushed himself at. His muscles burned. His lungs screamed. His blood boiled. But he did not stop. Could not stop. Would not stop.
He roared.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
The sound tore from his throat raw, primal, absolute.
It was an impossible situation.
Could the voice of a man drown out the voice of a thousand beasts on the sea of impossible size? Could his roar really stand by the side of the roar of Davina Jones who now was a monster that controlled all monsters of the sea?
Yes.
It did.
Because from here henceforth, Gareth had abandoned all hope. He had abandoned the light and consciousness. What was in his place was simply a mass of rage and hate. A hate so strong it drowned even the sea itself.
The Black Ledger saw him from afar.
Gideon Crowe the man who had dissected Davina Jones's anatomy, who had calculated her weakness, who had watched her transform into an abomination without flinching was filled with a shiver down his spine. His composure broke. His hands trembled. His eyes widened.
He no longer focused on Davina Jones.
He looked at Gareth with fear.
It was akin to one who stared at death in the face.
For if it was not a human... then this was death. Who had come upon the sea to swallow all life.
in the space between the devil's roar and the Black Ledger's fear, between the hate that drowned the sea and the death that walked upon it.
Gareth stood on the pile of bodies.
His chest heaved.
His eyes burned.
His will was absolute.
And the Infinite Sea trembled.