Chapter 743: The Statue In the Ocean
Dorran’s throat bobbed. His eyes drifted to the window where the last pink of evening was dying over Crownhold’s walls, and for a breath he looked like he might refuse.
But then he exhaled and spoke.
"He didn’t die in a storm," he said quietly. "He didn’t die to some sea monster. He died because the Vermilion Kingdom decided a man like him didn’t deserve a second chance."
Nox didn’t interrupt.
Fingers clenched on his knees. "It was supposed to be a quiet run. Father had stopped hunting pirates and started escorting merchant routes. People paid him in coin and smiles instead of fear. We were coming back from Snowhelm with crates of salt-fish and iron nails. My mother... she was with us. She liked the calm runs. Said the sea looked prettier when nobody was screaming."
He smiled without humor. "That morning the water was like glass. No wind. You could see our shadow on the blue. Father told me to keep watch, so I climbed the mast and looked forever. Nothing. Not even gulls."
He swallowed and said with a grim face, "Then the horizon broke."
---
On the horizon, a thin grey line appeared first. Then black masts rose one by one against the sun. Blood-red flags unfurled, each with a bright phoenix. It was the Royal Navy – not just a patrol but a whole fleet.
Kieran shouted across the deck: "Caravel on our left! Three galleys on the right! Two brigs dead ahead! Lower that sail! Dorran, down!"
He slid down the stairs and landed near the captain and his coil of rope – the one he always tripped on. Mara, his mother, was already at the bow, hair tied back in a rough braid.
She called calmly, "Kieran, look at their formation... they’re not coming to board. They have us surrounded."
Kieran’s jaw clenched, and he gave a short nod. "Understood."
Suddenly, a cannon blast tore through the sky. BOOM! Water exploded in a huge column next to their hull. It was a warning shot.
Kieran frowned and stepped forward with empty hands, palms out, toward the nearest enemy ship. It was a peaceful gesture.
"Royal Navy of Vermilion!" he shouted. "We are the Blue Wren, a civilian escort on a peaceful voyage. We have no contraband. We will allow you to board and inspect. Do not fire on us – we are not soldiers!"
However, instead of a reply—
BAM! BAM! BAM! Gunfire ripped through the side of their ship like a god’s fist smashing planks. Splinters flew like deadly javelins. Mara staggered and gripped the railing with white-knuckled hands.
Kieran didn’t curse or panic. He went straight into action after realising the enemy didn’t want peace.
"Port oars! Steer for the shoals!" he roared. He took the wheel himself. "Hannah, wet the sails! Dorran—down below, patch kit now!"
Dorran nodded and dashed down, anxiety twisting his face. This wasn’t the first time they had been attacked, but this time it all felt... very real. As if they might actually die.
Cries of pain echoed from the crew aboard the ship. He forced a brave face and hammered at the hull in a trance.
"Dorran! Get on deck!"
The shout jolted him. He scrambled up and saw the Blue Wren bleeding red into the ocean. Two enemy ships had pulled in so close he could see faces.
"Kieran of the Black Tide!" the officer’s voice boomed. "By decree of His Majesty and the neighboring kingdoms, you will be executed for high piracy, murder, and treason. Your ship and property are forfeit. Your family—"
Kieran laughed coldly, his expression dark. "—will be spared if I kneel?"
"Your family will be shown mercy," replied the officer.
Mara’s lips trembled. She looked at him.
"No," Kieran said softly to her. "We both know what mercy they mean."
Another volley slammed into them. This one tore a massive chunk from the ship. Sailcloth collapsed, and fire raced across the deck, happily devouring anything it touched.
"No... no, are we going to die?" Dorran’s brave face finally cracked, and he couldn’t help but mumble under his breath as the horror unfolded.
"Buckets!" Kieran roared. The remaining crew gathered courage and scrambled to pour water on the flames, but many were already down.
Dorran’s heart pounded. To the left—fire. To the right—enemy ships closing in like predators.
Ahead—nothing but red flags and mana cannon muzzles. He looked at his father. Kieran’s face was icy, unflinching, expression unchanged.
"Give me the hook," Kieran said.
It wasn’t a fish hook. It was the old iron grapnel he had kept, even after swearing off piracy.
Dorran rushed to fetch it. Kieran kissed Mara’s forehead and whispered, "Forgive me."
"For what?" she whispered back, confusion flashing in her eyes.
"For teaching our boy only to swim near the shore."
He turned and, gritting his teeth, hurled the grapnel with all his strength.
It flew through the air and caught on the nearest enemy ship’s rail with a loud clang. The line went taut. The two ships smashed together. The Vermilion deck jolted as their men froze.
Kieran leapt aboard with his trusty old blade and began hacking at the enemies like a savage. Slowly, his gaze grew cruel... just like in the past.
"Cut the line! Cut the line!" the trumpet captain screamed.
They slashed at the rope. The grapnel fell with a splash. The ships drifted apart but Kieran remained on the enemy deck.
"Fire!" the captain shouted.
They obeyed. However this time, it was not cannons but magic attacks!
Kieran was human—a very powerful one at that—but unlike beasts or mages, non awakened humans had weaknesses. Magic was his greatest.
The Vermilion navy exploited this. In moments, smoke engulfed the spot where he stood.
When it cleared, he was still there—chest rising and falling, shoulder bleeding.
But his gaze never faltered.
He let out a short, crazed laugh, then ran for the rail and jumped.
"Haul him aboard!" Mara shouted. The crew threw ropes over the side. He grabbed one and climbed up, hands slipping in his own blood.
Suddenly, a cannon boomed again. The blast struck so violently that Dorran lost his footing. He fell, hands flailing, and plunged into the water. He barely managed to grab onto a rope before he drowned.
"Dorran!" Mara whispered hoarsely, shoving him toward the rail and the little skiff tied to the ship.
"Go!" she urged.
"I’m not leaving—!" he shouted, eyes bloodshot.
"Your father is holding them! You need to live!" she yelled. She cupped his face and kissed his forehead. "Live," she repeated.
Another cannon blast hit. The ship groaned and cracked, ready to surrender to the sea.
The bow lifted, paused, then broke off. The impact rattled through his teeth.
Mara shoved him hard. He stumbled. The rope holding the skiff snapped. The little boat slid into the water and drifted away—taking him with it.
The cold hit like a slap. The world turned green-black. His vision blurred, ears full of cannon blasts and screams. He opened his mouth to shout but swallowed seawater instead.
It was then he realized he had let go of the rope—and now he was sinking.
He tried to swim, but the ocean’s pull was too strong. Warmth left his cheeks as he sank deeper and deeper.
When he finally reached the seabed, he looked up at the faint glow of sunlight above.
It felt so close, yet impossibly far. Air seeped from his lungs. His vision dimmed.
But just before his eyes closed... he saw something.
A giant statue of a woman with feline ears.