Chapter 31

  Captain Pete

  After it’d been scrubbed very thoroughly, I donned my new captain’s hat.

  I strode across the deck, hands clasped behind my back, watching my crew work. One thing became apparent very quickly: all the games of pirate I’d played as a child had not in any way prepared me for the real thing. Especially not being captain.

  I didn’t have a fucking clue what I was doing.

  To make sure the crew didn’t realise, I put on my most serious face and walked the deck, grunting approvingly or shaking my head at random. To really sell it, I occasionally said ‘ARRR’. I figured it was important they knew I could speak their language.

  Honestly, it didn’t matter. After seeing what I’d done to the previous first mate, I probably could’ve walked the deck in a glittery pink tutu and they’d still have shit themselves at the sight of me.

  Thanks to a rather unfortunate accident, they’d also learned to fear Rel.

  My first order as captain was that everything on the ship – including the crew – got a deep clean. All hands were on deck, buckets and mops everywhere.

  One unfortunate pirate, awkwardly carrying two sloshing buckets, tripped and went crashing to the deck. The contents of one of the buckets splashed Rel. I say splashed, but drenched would be more accurate.

  Let’s just say it wasn’t clean water…

  It solved the mystery of what his tail would look like if it got wet.

  Now, the offending pirate’s first mistake was not immediately dropping to his knees and begging for mercy. Instead, he smirked, shrugged, and said, “What’s the big deal? You’ll dry out soon enough.”

  The rest of the crew could only watch in horror as he was consumed in a torrent of flame.

  As captain, dealing with deaths on board was technically my job. I’m pretty sure a traditional pirate burial involved throwing the body overboard. The problem was, no body remained. The only sign he’d ever existed was the charred planks where he’d been standing.

  Bucket carrying discipline improved dramatically after that.

  * * *

  Early the next morning, Treasure Island came into view.

  The island wasn’t large – a few miles across at most. A sandy beach wrapped around the shoreline before giving way to dense tropical forest, very similar to that on Floor One. Rising from the centre was a colossal column of white stone, erupting from the trees like an enormous…

  Never mind.

  The sea around it was already crawling with ships, and Rel and I told the crew to hurry the fuck up, worried that we’d get there too late.

  There seemed to be an unspoken agreement that none of the fighting would be done at sea. Instead, it all seemed to be taking place on the island itself. From my position at the bow of the ship, I could already see small forces clashing on the beach.

  The fighting was brutal and bloody, with a dash of magic thrown in for good measure. Rel was more than a little excited when we witnessed a pirate mage call down a bolt of lightning. It struck at the heart of a charging horde, sending charred bodies hurtling through the air.

  When we were a mile from the island, a very nervous pirate informed me we’d have to drop anchor and take smaller boats the rest of the way.

  Fuck that.

  One mile?

  I grinned. Some unfortunate pirates were about to be on the receiving end of the Floor Three special.

  “Rel.” I patted my shoulder. “Hop on, buddy, and hold on tight. Things might get a little bit bumpy.”

  I jogged to the stern and turned to face the island.

  “Pete,” Rel said slowly. “Are you about to do what I think you’re about to do?”

  I didn’t respond. The voice in my head had my full attention.

  C’mon, Pete. This is the moment you’ve trained for. You’ve got an audience and a passenger this time, so don’t fuck it up.

  I took a deep breath and burst into motion. I crossed the length of the ship in an instant, pushing off the deck with outrageous force.

  And then we were soaring through the air, the island rushing towards us.

  The fighting on the beach stopped and every pirate turned in our direction. They were pointing and gesturing wildly, but I felt a flicker of confusion when I realised they weren’t pointing up.

  They were pointing at our ship.

  Oh shit.

  I glanced back and immediately regretted it.

  The ship was sinking.

  Fast.

  Apparently, launching myself off the deck with enough force to turn stone to dust had been a questionable decision.

  As for what remained of the ship? Imagine explaining to a drunk gorilla what a ship looks like, then handing it a pencil and telling it to draw one. It probably looked a little something like that.

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  For nearly a hundred metres in every direction, the water was littered with floating chunks of wood. The pirates who were fortunate enough to have survived were doing one of two things. Some, clearly questioning their life choices, clung onto the remains. The rest were swimming desperately towards the shore.

  I guessed my time as a pirate captain was over. In memory of the good old days, I let out one final ‘ARR!’

  It ended up being rather fitting, as when I looked back towards the island, we were only a hundred or so metres away. The ‘arr’ became an ‘argh’.

  The pirates were definitely looking at us now.

  I landed amongst their ranks like a human meteor, the force of the impact sending an explosion of sand in every direction.

  When I’d first had the idea of jumping absurd distances, I’d had a staggering agility of three. Back then, landing had pretty much been a hope for the best kind of situation. Now that my agility was twenty-six? I wouldn’t go as far as to say my landing was graceful, but it was at least controlled.

  Rel swore furiously from my shoulder, then hopped down and attempted to brush the sand out of his fur. It was so puffy he looked like he’d just stuck a claw in a plug socket.

  “Rel,” I said. “The next time you think about commenting on my hair, remember this moment.”

  He glared at me, but I was saved from a scolding response by the spluttering of some rather angry pirates as they dug themselves out of the sand I’d buried them under.

  They were not alone.

  Scanning the beach, it quickly became clear that our dramatic entrance had attracted a lot of attention. A small army of pirates was closing in from every direction. From the differences in their appearance, it was clear they represented different factions. They all approached hesitantly, reluctant to be the first to arrive.

  Rel and I made eye contact, and in those few seconds, we truly understood each other. In fact, the message conveyed was so clear that it was bordering on telepathy.

  It was time.

  We waited patiently, letting the approaching pirates draw a little nearer. For what we had planned, we needed them to be as tightly packed as possible.

  Still, no words were spoken. We were beyond such things. We were united in a common purpose that transcended trivial barriers such as speech.

  The purpose being to fuck as much shit up as possible.

  We exchanged a nod.

  I held out my hands, palms up, and he leapt towards me. When he landed, I launched him skyward. He soared into the air, reaching a height of thirty metres or so. As he began his descent, we both roared, our voices perfectly synchronised.

  ‘RELFIRE VORTEX, ACTIVATE!’

  Then he began to spin, a fireball igniting at the tip of his tail. He gathered speed, spinning faster and faster until the grey of his fur and the orange flame blurred into a single, swirling mass of destruction.

  Fireballs began to fall like rain.

  This felt like one of those moments that deserved a professional weather update.

  Welcome to the Treasure Island weather station.

  Current conditions include intense heat and persistent fireball showers over the central beach. Smoke and ash are reducing visibility to near zero. Temperatures will continue rising throughout the afternoon, particularly for those currently on fire.

  I’m afraid sunscreen won’t help with this one, folks. Our advice? Don’t be stupid enough to be caught outside during a Relfire Vortex.

  Back to you, Pete.

  Thanks Mr Weather Guy.

  As I watched the carnage unfold, I was once again impressed by Rel’s destructive creativity. Relfire Vortex was honestly an inspirational idea. However, I was also a little concerned. When the fireballs slammed into the pirate ranks, shit got fucked up, sure – but I noticed that very few pirates were actually dying.

  The unlucky ones who caught a fireball to the face didn’t last long. The others? Less barbecued than expected. A glancing blow left them singed and swearing profusely. A fireball to the body resulted in a little melting and some very pained screaming.

  But they didn’t end up as roast pirate.

  I thought back to the unfortunate fool he’d immolated on the ship. That had been very… up close and personal – more like a flamethrower than a fireball.

  This, though?

  I had the uncomfortable feeling Rel was starting to fall behind, at least in terms of raw power. The time he’d invested in setting up the guild may have boosted him to top place in reputation and influence, but he’d paid for it with loss of stat gains.

  Still, I doubt the pirates were particularly bothered by my masterful analysis of Rel’s current power level. They were far more interested in not getting bitch-slapped by a fireball. Some had turned and fled, the sand erupting in great waves at the speed of their movement. Others, being resourceful fuckers, were lifting charred bodies to use as human shields.

  Rel’s spin began to slow and he dropped gracefully to the ground. He turned on the spot to survey the damage he’d caused, a slight frown playing at the corners of his mouth. Around half the pirates had fled or died. The rest had injuries that ranged from ‘walk it off, you’ll be fine’ to ‘oh my god, somebody call an ambulance!’

  The survivors looked slightly dazed as they clambered to their feet and took in the devastation that surrounded them, but as their eyes fixed on the charred bodies of their crewmates and friends, anger seemed to focus their thoughts. They turned to face Rel, teeth bared and blades raised, murder written plainly across their faces.

  I moved to stand beside him, raising an eyebrow as I watched the pirates spread out in an attempt to surround us. They advanced cautiously but their intent was clear. They intended to have squirrel stew for dinner.

  “Well, buddy,” I said. “You’ve warmed them up nicely. I’ll handle the clean-up.”

  * * *

  Two emotions battled within Rel as he watched Pete dismantle the pirate horde: pride and frustration. The man moved so quickly he was little more than a blur. The power of his punches was inexorable, anything in their path reduced to ruin. Within seconds, a dozen pirates’ bodies – or what remained of them – hit the sand.

  It was incredible, but it reminded Rel just how quickly the gap between them was growing.

  Ever since his ‘awakening’ several months ago, Rel had changed. He could still remember his previous life, but the memories were growing hazier, as though seen through smoke. And the smoke was thickening.

  The ones he could recall were simple things, but they also held a sense of contentment. The comforting familiarity of the forest. Foraging for food. The quiet satisfaction of building a nest and lounging lazily in the trees. It had been safe and predictable.

  Then, the ‘passenger’ had arrived.

  It had awoken within Rel’s mind a greater level of consciousness, and with it a desire to do more. To be more.

  Rel was not the passenger. Rel was no longer the simple creature he used to be.

  He had become something new altogether.

  The passenger itself was fragmented, like an echo or a shadow rather than a fully formed being. Its influence came not through clear ideas or direct commands, but rather impressions and half-formed hints.

  Sometimes, Rel would catch temporary glimpses of the passenger’s emotions, and they helped him to understand who his constant companion may have once been. On the surface, there was incredible pride and arrogance, but it was accompanied by wisdom and intelligence so profound that Rel could scarcely comprehend it.

  At least not yet.

  As their connection grew stronger, Rel’s understanding was expanding rapidly. The passenger seemed to bring with it an instinctive and profound knowledge of magic. When Rel looked at a scroll, its contents resonated in his mind, to the point that he almost felt as if he could have been the one who created it.

  Buried even deeper were the emotions that had inspired the passenger to merge with Rel. On occasion, he caught very fleeting impressions of them.

  Longing.

  Loneliness.

  A burning hunger for a sense of excitement and adventure.

  And although Rel was still piecing things together, he knew Pete was at the heart of it all. Not only had the passenger chosen Rel – it had also chosen Pete.

  Rel did not fully understand the reasons, but the passenger had made it known – in its fragmented way – that setting up a guild would prove to be important further down the road.

  It was also clear from his recent conversations with Pete and Kaelis that their Trial Division was one of the weakest in the Cluster, which made it critical that their preparation be flawless. After all, who knew what sort of monsters they’d encounter before this was over?

  Today had made one thing absolutely clear: now that the guild was up and running, he had to return to his training with a vengeance.

  He could not let his friend leave him behind.

  Pete would need him.

  A PATH OF METAL TO AN AMBER DAWN

  ?

  Fantasy LitRPG Adventure Time Travel Progression Crafting Sci-Fi Magitech Reincarnation Genetically Engineered Gamelit

  Where flowers wilt, grow metal. Where animals die, build life.

  Evelyn Anima has survived for years in the ruins of District Zero, a sealed-off land at the heart of a continent-sized magitek city shattered by a magical disaster that left millions dead—or twisted into monsters.

  After countless failed attempts to become a Classer and earn the right to leave the exclusion zone, time is finally running out.

  The experimental Core implanted in her as a child threatens to kill Evelyn and the last remnants of her mother's green dream with her.

  To fix this broken future and herself, the answer may lie in a distant time. When druids still walked the world, and magic wasn’t trapped in circuits and metal.

  But to know history is to live it, and Evelyn may be bringing more of the future with her than she intended.

  * A Journey of Hope & Discovery*