Mereque's boots skidded on the blood-slick deck as another wave of sycophants crashed aboard.

  The air stank of brine and rot—burnt flesh mixed with the copper tang of open wounds.

  His axe bit deep into a twitching torso.

  Black ichor sprayed across his visor. Sticky. Warm.

  He yanked the blade free with a wet crunch.

  Another came at him—claws raking for his throat. He sidestepped. Brought the axe down.

  Severed the arm at the elbow. The thing shrieked, a sound like tearing metal.

  Not human. Not anymore, he reminded himself.

  HUD flickered in the corner of his eye (red).

  THREAT LEVEL: CRITICAL

  INJURIES: MINOR LACERATIONS – CONTAINED

  ADRENALINE: 82% – OPTIMAL

  The Harbour groaned around him—steel twisting under bombardment.

  Iron spheres from the Glooms above punched through hulls like fists through paper.

  Explosions rolled in waves. Heat washed over him. Shrapnel pinged off his remaining armor.

  A crewman beside him took a flechette to the neck. Gurgled. Dropped.

  Mereque didn't look down. Couldn't.

  Jenker shouted something—orders, maybe—but the roar drowned it.

  Gunfire cracked endless. More rockets streaked skyward, detonating harmlessly against shifting magical barriers.

  Useless.

  He swung again. Cleaved a sycophant mid-leap. Its body split, spilling black worms that writhed and then disintegrated on the deck.

  His stomach turned. Not from gore. From doubt.

  How many more?

  The Glooms circled like vultures, fast flying Knights darted between them.

  Jenker was fighting somewhere aft.

  Fishburn’s squad—overwhelmed?

  He was alone in the press.

  A Knight landed ahead. Geometric wings folding. Armor shifting—impossible angles.

  Flechettes hissed.

  He dove.

  They punched the deck where he'd stood.

  Sparks flew from that spot.

  He rolled and came up swinging.

  Axe met armor. The clash rang out.

  He had no purchase.

  The Knight laughed—a wet, bubbling sound.

  Mereque’s leg buckled.

  Numbness spreading from earlier claw.

  HUD: LIMB COMPROMISE – 38% FUNCTIONALITY

  He gritted his teeth.

  Not now, he cursed.

  He swung wild and missed.

  The Knight lunged.

  He parried with the haft. His arms screamed from the bone-jarring impact.

  Another joined. Then a third. Three on one.

  He backed toward the rail. Salt spray stung his eyes.

  The ocean below—black, hungry. Better than chains. Better than baptism.

  He feinted left.

  Drove the axe into the first Knight’s knee joint.

  It buckled and screamed.

  He followed with a shoulder charge, sending it over the railing, into the froth.

  The others pressed.

  Flechettes whined past. One grazed his shoulder, leaving a hot line of blood.

  HUD: MINOR INJURY – IGNORE

  He ignored and swung high. Blocked low.

  They were almost as fast. Almost as stronger. But not quite.

  He was tiring. His breath ragged. His vision tunneling.

  Jenker’s voice cut through—it was distant.

  “Fall back!”

  Too late, he thought.

  A Knight’s blade—curved, barbed—slashed across his chest plate.

  Sparks. Rent metal. Pain flared.

  He staggered. The deck tilted. Or was it him?

  The Harbour churned with the battle.

  Bodies kept falling from the sky.

  Men sank beneath the rolling swell of the sea.

  And he was still standing. Still fighting. Because stopping meant chains (of a different kind), or worse, death.

  It meant the world drowned in tears.

  He roared back. Axe high. Charged.

  The Knights met him.

  Steel rang. Blood sprayed.

  His. Theirs. The fight narrowed to breath and blade.

  Doubts whispered.

  You're one man.

  He answered with a swing that took a head.

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  One is enough.

  He thought he heard the sound of water rushing above him. Was he going mad?

  ? ? ?

  Tarmour’s visage was exquisitely handsome.

  Yet equally terrifying in the callous indifference hinted behind his crystal blue eyes and expressionless, perfectly still features.

  Brother Balcarmos had brought the Sunken Marms.

  Opening a doorway for them just outside the floating city.

  Allowing them to move in covertly before the defenders were alerted.

  They had deployed their alluring magical enchantment upon the enemies.

  But with only limited success.

  Disappointing to a degree. Not unexpected.

  The aquatic creatures weren’t intended to be the real danger.

  They were a distraction for what was to come.

  The Wyrm had given him lessons in the true art of war.

  Imparting that knowledge directly into his head with its dreams.

  As the Anointed One, he had become increasingly stronger.

  Not just physical power.

  Mental durability imparted through his bond to their weeping God.

  To his left, the air shimmered momentarily.

  Before Brother Dynoinstein stepped into sight through a portal.

  Dropping to his knees in front of their new master.

  The holy man spoke without delay.

  “My Lord, they are ready.”

  “As we have planned. Go now. Take those gathered. Open the gates. Bring forth ruin to these fools!”

  Athur commanded.

  Touching the holy man’s mind directly with his own.

  The priest bowed lower. The portals flared wider. The Crusade pressed forward.

  ? ? ?

  Mereque swung the axe with such force that he severed a sycophant’s head from its shoulders in one fluid motion.

  He had just hacked through thirty enemy foot soldiers. Fighting to protect the outer deck of the Gull. Preventing their foes from boarding and causing more carnage.

  Three Blanched Knights had waylaid him earlier. A fourth and fifth targeting Jenker—evidently identifying him as important. But Fishburn’s squad of water-hose-ready soldiers in Heavy Bell armor drove them back before he was overwhelmed.

  Seawater was the bane of these beings without question. It burned them like potent corrosive. Submersion could end them in moments.

  Marms attacked ships throughout the Harbour. Whole platoons of armed navy divers waged pitched battles against these aquatic enemies beneath the rolling waves.

  To the east, something large appeared atop the outer walls.

  At first, Mereque thought it part of the structure—some weapon the Havenites were moving, like a large turret, a concealed armament.

  But as he focused, he understood. It was not theirs. It was alive. And it was very big. Almost as big as the dragon.

  Bipedal from this distance. Coarse hide, pale yellow. Bulbous head with prominent jaw and obvious underbite. It had the look of something primitive.

  In one hand, a gigantic bludgeoning weapon covered in spike-like protrusions. Tubular. Hollowed inside.

  Used to smash defensive cannons nearby. But not its only function.

  He watched it fill one open end with debris. Swing it back. Then forward with force.

  The contents shot across the Harbour. A hailstorm of twisted metal rained down.

  HUD Overlay (flashing red):

  BALLISTIC IMPACTS DETECTED

  CASUALTIES: MULTIPLE CONFIRMED

  THREAT ESCALATION: CRITICAL

  Several were killed in that attack. Friends and foes alike. The bombardment did not discriminate.

  The enemy didn’t care. They were willing to sacrifice their own without thought.

  “What is that thing!?”

  Mereque shouted at the captain after the barrage subsided.

  “Kraken’s crust… Children of the Moon… I didn’t think they were real… we are beset by giants, my friend! Pray Old Father favours us this day!”

  The look of horror on Jenker’s face told him all he needed to know.

  “Captain!”

  A crew member yelled in panic.

  “Look—there’s more!”

  Eyes scanned the high walls in the distance.

  At least a dozen of them were within view. No, there were more. A score of twenty. Then twice as many. They had taken the perimeter.

  Each as large as the first. All armed with similar gigantic weaponry. There were variations among them—some bearded, other bald, broader, taller.

  But all with coarse, pockmarked pale-yellow skin. A sickly complexion.

  Mereque gripped his axe tighter.

  The advance of the giants shook the Harbour. Escalating the assault. Tilting the battle in the enemy’s favor.

  The Havenites were no longer in a standoff. They were fighting for survival. Fighting for life.

  As some ships turned guns on the Children of the Moon, airships dashed in. Unloading rockets and automatic fire. Only to face sudden assault by Umbral Glooms providing cover.

  The flying monsters descended rapidly from above. Smashing through airborne defenders with grotesque bodies. Lobbing iron spheres to devastating effect.

  Causing more chaos among the naval people.

  A few giants clambered into the Harbour. Attacking moored vessels and crews directly.

  One leapt from a wall, nearly capsizing the first ship it landed on. Feet smashing into deck. Aft rising as bow bobbing dangerously to port before righting itself again.

  Mereque gauged their actions. In his assessment the giants weren’t aiming to annihilate the fleet. Disable it, perhaps. Cause extensive damage. Chaos.

  They were succeeding. Of course they were.

  For how does one fight true giants? It was a question he never thought he’d be asking himself. Conventional attacks were largely ineffective against their thicker skins.

  Then their purpose became clear.

  Unaffected by water hoses, they made ideal shields.

  Blanched Knights flew freely behind the colossal humanoids. Assaulting Havenites at will.

  Deploying their foul powers. Drawing cages from the air to trap men. It was abduction in large numbers.

  From where he and the crew of the Gull were, there was little any of them could do but witness it unfold.

  The ship was marooned in its berth. There was no way to get it free.

  But they had protected it. Fought off every assault. Helped neighboring crews.

  The sky was filled with explosions. Airships chased Glooms. Heavy Bells wrestled with Marms below. Crewmen unloading endless ammunition into giants impotently.

  Despite their losses, they hadn’t given up.

  It was then Ventrullis spotted a battalion of Blanched Knights materializing around the Urchin Gull.

  He estimated two hundred. Surrounding them. Emerging from portals that briefly caused the air to shimmer.

  HUD Overlay (solid red):

  HOSTILES: 200+ KNIGHTS

  PORTAL ACTIVITY: MYSTICAL

  SURVIVAL PROBABILITY: LOW

  RECOMMENDATION: ESCAPE

  SEDONDARY: CLOSE COMBAT

  Running wasn’t an option.

  Mereque gripped his weapon tighter.

  It was the power of the priests. Bolstered by the will of their new King. Impossible gateways made by impossible monsters.

  Affording the forces of the Blanched an advantage the defenders could not match.

  When one appeared—flanked by holy men and a personal guard of the largest Knights yet seen—they were speechless.

  Few had ever seen one of the unholy Priests, but none had seen a Blanched with face exposed.

  Certainly not one so exquisitely handsome.

  Yet that is what confronted them.

  Their attackers wasted not a moment and beset upon them with great ferocity. The crew of the Urchin Gull fought back hard. Bullets and dark arcane powers unleashed without restraint.

  But in moments it became apparent to Mereque that they were outmatched.

  Watching men, he had fought beside fall so easily was jarring.

  Some died on their feet.

  Others were subdued by unnatural powers.

  Binding them in cages and chains.

  Disabling, with carefully aimed flechettes piercing tendons in knees, elbows, shoulders, ankles.

  A pair of the giant Children of the Moon arrived, flanking either side of the ship.

  Towering over the proceedings. Curiously taking no other actions.

  Mereque intercepted a Knight heading for Captain Jenker and planted the axe deep into its breastplate, leaving an oozing crevasse.

  He kicked the warrior off with a hard shove of his booted foot.

  Knowing he couldn’t fight these enemies with guns or rifles, Jenker had armed himself with two electrically charged long blades. Shorter than swords but larger than knives. Edges about the length from elbow to fingertips when extended.

  Standing back-to-back, they were the last two standing. Ringed by enemies with nowhere left to go. All they could do was take as many down with them before the end.

  Mereque gripped his axe tighter.

  Jenker’s blades crackled.

  However, the end did not come quickly.

  As they swung their weapons to defend themselves, the foes suddenly withdrew. Surrounding them but staying just out of reach.

  The Knights penned them in a tight circle.

  Mereque whispered to the man behind him.

  “We’re going to have to press them.”

  “What do you suggest?”, Jenker replied {short of breath).

  The captain was physically taxed to his limit. He was standing, but his legs were trembling.

  “Remember how to use my Pelter?”, Mereque asked.

  “Yeah. I got it.”, Jenker answered.

  Sheathing one blade, he reached back with his free hand for the sidearm.

  “I deny you.”

  A voice spoke from beyond the ring.

  The gun was yanked from Jenker’s grip by an unseen power. Tossed away. It clattered against the deck beyond their reach.

  Then the Blanched with the porcelain skin and beautiful face came towards them, a mane of pale hair flowing behind him. The Knights parted. Allowing him to step forward alone.

  That voice had sounded only half human, the other was a sound like inhuman horror.

  Mereque couldn’t understand the nature of the supernatural powers confronting him.

  His world was science. Learning. Exploration. Reason and the rational.

  Not madness. Not the irrational.

  The metaphysical realm was as foreign to him as he was to this world. Yet it lent him strength. For to these beings, he was equally mysterious.

  He gripped his axe. Tensed. Ready.

  When the heavens exploded in a radiant cascade of brilliant lights, neither friend nor foe expected it. All heads turned in surprise.

  Filling the sky across the sub-nautical city. Brighter and louder than anything that had detonated above their heads during the battle. A plume of destructive force washed through cloud and into sight,

  Like a shot across the bow. A glinting flying machine rocketed at impossible speed into the conflict. Firing beams of force that cut down a handful of Umbral Glooms in seconds.

  HUD Overlay (green pulse):

  UNKNOWN ALLIES DETECTED

  ENERGY SIGNATURE: NON-HOSTILE

  THREAT REDUCTION: 47%

  ANALYZE: PRIORITY HIGH

  Mereque stared. Allies? A knot slowly formed in his stomach.

  From his perch on its backside, the red dragon launched itself.

  The fire-breathing beast soared down. Unleashing streamers of flame from open maw. Roaring challenge as he came among them.

  Tarmour, the Blanched King, gazed up. The guardians had arrived. Their fates converging.