91
The sea breeze swept its briny tang onto the deck.
Thunderclouds began gathering in the distance, and the sky darkened.
The figures sprawled across the deck were still twitching.
The sea breeze suddenly stopped.
The brown-haired man pressed one knee against the planks, his clenched fingers making the chains creak.
Sweat slid from his temples to his chin, then struck the deck, spreading into dark circles.
He opened his mouth but failed to make a complete sound.
Only six figures remained standing.
"On my turf,"
The voice dropped from above like an anchor plunging to the seabed. "Crushing my people with your presence-"
The figure that rose to his feet blotted out half the sky.
A straight rift opened in the clouds. Light pierced through it, illuminating the edges of his white coat.
Golden hair, a crescent-shaped mustache, and a long blade in his hand whose edge reflected a cold gleam.
The air grew heavy.
The deck began to **.
Rossi raised his eyes.
"I already told you,"
His voice was level, as though stating something decided long ago. "I came here today to beat you."
His finger traced half an arc through the air, pointing at the bodies collapsed around them.
"But before that-"
The wind suddenly stirred again, sweeping its briny scent across the deck.
The ship rose and fell gently with the waves, and the deck was filled with salty moisture and the smell of damp wood.
Edward Newgate shifted his gaze away from the outline of the island beside them, his brow lowering briefly.
Whether he chose the ship beneath his feet or that familiar stretch of land in the distance as their battlefield, the outcome would be no different-he knew what his every movement would leave behind.
"Let's take this somewhere else."
Withdrawing his