Chapter 1072: The Clown’s Introduction
Titanion Realm, the Trident Sea.
An endless sapphire sky stretched over an abyss of crushing black. Between these two infinities, a storm raged. Gale-force winds howled and monstrous waves crashed over the decks of the warships, sending them pitching and rolling through the churning chaos.
For Rendall, Drakthul, and the others, it was a terrifying, alien landscape. The violent sea was a beast, the hurricane winds a legion of Shadow-fiends, painting a terrifying and magnificent portrait of the Trident Sea’s infamous power.
Yet for Marina, standing on the foremost point of the deck, it was just another day. She stood against the gale, perfectly serene, as if the wind and waves were nothing more than a summer breeze. No storm, it seemed, could ever faze her.
“Elder,” a handler of the piranha-like scout fish whispered, hurrying to Rendall’s side. “The fish up front were spooked by something. An unknown disturbance. Should we send a party to investigate?”
Rendall immediately walked the slick deck to where Marina stood. He was keenly aware of the chain of command. Marina was the designated leader for this territorial expansion. She was the Giant King’s woman, a princess of the mermaid race, a lord in her own right, and a Warden of the Horde.
Orion trusted her, and so, Rendall would trust her. He was here to do his job.
“There is no need to address me so formally, Elder. Marina will do,” she said, turning to face him. Her blue dress whipped around her in the wind, a splash of vibrant color against the storm-gray world, creating a striking, almost regal silhouette.
“A small school of sea beasts crossed our path,” she explained, her voice calm and clear over the wind’s roar. “Your scout fish encountered them, but the beasts have already been devoured. There’s no need to send anyone.”
Though new to the Stoneheart Horde, Marina had learned much about Orion and his people. She knew the man before her, this powerful Alphapeak, was as close as a brother to their king. He was a man worth her respect, an ally worth winning over.
“Marina,” Rendall said, gesturing to the tense warriors on deck. “This is the first time at sea for most of my people. They know nothing of this world, and frankly, they’re terrified. Is there anything you can teach us?”
He wasn’t questioning her authority; he was being a leader. This was a military operation, a prelude to war, and he wouldn’t let pride or posturing get in the way of his duty.
Marina’s gaze swept over the elders and warriors. She could see it clearly on their faces—a deep, instinctual fear of the open ocean.
“You are right. That is my oversight,” she said, a warm smile spreading across her face. She lifted a slender hand, and in response, a towering wave rose from the churning sea beside the Sea-Devouring Warship. It climbed toward the sky, then dissolved into a fine, gentle rain that drifted down upon the deck.
As the droplets touched them, a soft, pale-blue aura ignited around Rendall and the others.
“Now, Elder,” Marina said. “Look upon the sea again.”
Rendall and the others turned their gazes back to the storm.
“This…”
“It’s beautiful.”
The feeling that washed over Rendall was indescribable. As a creature of the land, he was born with a natural dread of the deep ocean. But now, as he watched the massive swells rise and fall, he felt a profound sense of tranquility within the chaos. It was as if their desperate fight against the storm had suddenly ended, replaced by a quiet acceptance, a feeling of being at peace within the gale.
“This is the Blessing of the Tides, a gift from my people,” Marina explained. “Have your warriors come on deck to bathe in it, and they will receive the sea’s favor. The magic has no real combat application, but it will help them feel a kinship with the ocean, and let go of their fear.”
Hearing this, the warriors who had been cowering from the spray now stepped willingly into the magical rain.
“What are you waiting for, you idiot?” Rendall roared, planting a boot on Beyn’s rear. “Signal the other ships!”
“Oh—right! Yes! Signal the other ships!” Beyn snapped to attention, scrambling off with a goofy grin. For a younger warrior like him, a kick from the Elder was a sign of rough affection, a sign he was one of the inner circle.
Marina said nothing, simply continuing to draw the seawater into the sky, sustaining the blessing for her new people.
“Hahaha! With this, I feel like I could swim the whole damn ocean!” one warrior boomed.
“Yeah, this rain… it feels good! Really good!”
“Holy crap, I was about to puke my guts out a minute ago. Now I feel fantastic!”
“BRING IT ON, STORM!”
As the men cheered, a small smile played on Marina’s lips, and she glanced discreetly toward the rear of the fleet. Far behind them, hidden beneath the waves, a squad of Sea Race soldiers was tailing them.
The bloodline warriors of the Stoneheart Horde couldn’t sense them, but she could. This was the Trident Sea, territory of the Sea-Drake race. Any soldiers here would be theirs.
She made no move, content to let them follow for now.
You’d better be friendly. Or else…
***
Silverwood Realm, Hydraea Plains.
Orion thrust his trident without hesitation into the violently fluctuating patch of void before him. Ten minutes after he had sprung his Void Trap, his quarry was finally fighting back.
A muffled explosion echoed from within non-space as the Void Trap shattered. The unknown enemy stepped out.
They were met by the three points of Orion’s trident lungeing for their heart.
“Hehehe… impressive,” a chillingly cheerful voice echoed from the figure. “Looks like the Champions Alliance found a powerful new recruit after we left. I am Clown, friend. And who might you be?”
CRACKLE!
The only answer was the lightning that erupted from the trident’s tips.
“You don’t deserve to know my name,” Orion stated flatly as his weapon struck home. The enemy was impaled, with no chance of escape.
“Ooh, feisty! I like it!” the voice laughed, impossibly cheerful and arrogant even as the figure was run through. “Well then, consider us introduced… hehehe…”
The laughter hung in the air, long after the figure went limp.
With a sharp crackle, the enemy died.
Orion withdrew his trident. Impaled on its tines was not a body, but a flimsy paper effigy held together with transparent tape. Its aura was gone. The last wisp of Clown’s will that had animated it had been utterly extinguished.
Orion flicked his wrist. A ball of flame erupted from the trident, incinerating the paper construct until nothing but ash remained.
So, Clown has made his move.
He was impressed. Even his proxy is this elusive. No wonder he was on the same level as my old comrades.
A slow smile crept across Orion’s face. The thought of facing Clown, and the Witch, ignited a spark of genuine interest. A battle against opponents of that caliber, he mused, would be one hell of a learning experience.