Like the other Sea Wolves, Corporal Jacque practiced the cursed Sea Wolf Body Art. However, his growth had taken a strange turn. He didn't gain swollen muscles and raw, nigh unbridled power like Captain Lang. Jacque's abilities were more reminiscent of Rico's. His body grew thin and his movements became graceful. Further, his senses were greatly magnified when exposed to seawater.
Captain Lang Hai was the former Patriarch of the Sea Wolf Hidden sect... a title he'd abandoned in order to join the Royal Navy. Following Admiral Langqiang's death, the young Captain took over the fleet and shared the cursed Sea Wolf body art with his men. A few short years later, everyone in the Kingdom understood that the Marines and sailors of Beaurte were synonymous to the Sea Wolves.
According to Captain Lang, as Jacque raised his comprehension of the Sea Wolf Body Art from Lesser to Middle Completion, his abilities would begin to normalize. He had incredible perception and his healing factor was above average, but his strength and reflexes remained on a very human level. Jacque could see strikes and bullets in flight as if they moved through molasses-- but he could only curse in regret that he wasn't fast enough to react.
No Sea Wolf was useless-- not with their small numbers compared to the rest of the Kingdom's fleets. Jacque was also the only non-officer Marine with a high level of education and was capable of reading, navigation, and advanced math. He had also joined the fleet, slightly older thus markedly more mature than the young Marines who only sought glory and battle.
It was that trust that landed Corporal Jacque into his current special assignment and the mess he was currently in.
He glanced at the battered half-elf guarding his back, "Got any bright ideas, kid?"
Pale winced in pain. The boy was bleeding profusely and the pirates that surrounded them were beginning to grow more confident because of it.
"Ergh... I guess I'll take half and you take the other half?"
Jacque grit his teeth, "Was that a bright idea or a question?"
"I dunno," The boy lightly shrugged. "Let's just give it a try. What have we got to lose?"
Jacque yelled as the boy rushed forward, "Your life! You could lose your life!!"
He turned back to the pirates, who were beginning to attack-- Two swords cut down at him. Jacque sidestepped one and rotated his body to take a shallow cut on his side. He dropped a dagger, grabbed a man's sword arm, and repositioned himself to keep his new hostage between his opponents.
Half a dozen times. He shanked the pirate swordsman repeatedly underneath the man's unarmored armpit, before shoving him away into his attackers.
He had to get to the boy! Jacque sprinted towards where Pale was fighting.
The boy had killed three men in the time it took Jacque to kill one... and he'd slashed open the neck of a fourth while he was still running.
"Pale! Behind!" Jacque yelled.
The boy winced in pain but obediently rolled to the side, managing to just-barely dodge the cleaver-blade of a guisarme.
Jacque skidded to a halt, accurately stopping at the perfect distance. 3 thrown-knife revolutions. He tossed a whirling dagger at the guisarme pirate's neck, confident that it would hit.
The pirate twisted his body, and the knife stuck in the meat of the man's tattooed shoulder. He pulled it out with impunity, "Gahaha. Little toys, Sea Pups. The Saltspray Kings aren't afraid of you."
Jacque's heart fell to the pit of his stomach, "Metal-Ranker!!"
Sea god's spear, Jacque wished he had at least another Sea Wolf to hold him off. He and the injured Pale were at a disadvantage against a Bronze-Rank... And if the tattooed pirate was an Iron-Ranker, they were done for.
Jacque picked up a cutlass and charged through the sands at the Metal-Ranker, "Blood and thunder!!"
...
Pale leapt away from another sweep of a red-headed pirate's halberd. Rolling to his feet, he vaulted up with his pole to round kick the pirate's ear. With a quick downward stab, he claimed another kill.
Phew. He was so tired that his chest hurt when he breathed-- only a little bit, though. He couldn't catch his breath just yet. There were too many enemies.
A pirate edged closer defensively, holding a thick wooden tower shield. Pale stabbed the man in the foot and twisted, then dashed to the side and stabbed him in the side of the neck.
With mana powering Pale's vision and boosting his reflexes, he slipped under a pirate's cutlass swing. Dropping his body low, he held his spear firm underneath his arm. Rotating his hips, he slashed his spearblade into the side of his attacker's neck.
Turning back, he deflected a sword's downward swing, knocking the weapon away. With the momentum, he used his spear-end to jab at a different axe-wielding pirate's chin, knocking him back.
Pale stood up straight and took another deep breath, his chest heaving, and humid sweat dripping everywhere. Wielding the Lifedrinker spear, he enjoyed its effect pretty much all the time. Each enemy that fell, he'd leech a small amount of stolen mana that improved his ability to dodge and deflect attacks. But even still, the battle was taking a toll on his stamina.
Well... training was worse. He hadn't even vomited yet.
Pale guessed he'd better keep fighting until someone told him to stop... It was just like training.
...
The stabbing blade of the guisarme was not Corporal Jacque's friend. He had a good 4 holes on his chest and one on his thigh.
Jacque grinned and performed a rude gesture, "Come on, you rotten whoreson. It'll take more than that to kill a Sea Wolf."
The pirate grimaced in worry. Good. Jacque may have claimed the worst of their exchanges but the pirate was bloodied by a cutlass for his troubles.
The hesitation was welcome. 5 stabs were a bit much for Jacque to handle well. The more blood he lost, the more he slowed and the more he wanted to lay in the sand and sleep forever. If he got his head lopped off, he'd get his wish.
The pirate kicked up sand, causing Jacque to make an error.
He blinked.
The cleaver-blade of the guisarme stuck into Jacque's left side, biting deeply into his abdomen. He felt his body, weightless, as the pirate picked him up with his weapon. With a groaning heave, Jacque was thrown... and he rolled and tumbled on his side, in the hard-packed sand.
Dizzy. Cold. Wracked with painful injuries... He tried to reach down with his left arm only to discover a new shock of agony. His left arm was broken, too.
Corporal Jacque blinked the sand out of his eyes, powering his will to not go into shock. He smashed his good hand into the sand and focused on dragging his broken body back to Pale.
He could still survive his wounds. The boy would not.