Temoshí came to a stop, his movements deliberate, and slowly tilted his head upward, allowing the sunlight to wash over his face. He stood there, unmoving, exuding an air of unshakable confidence, like a monument to self-reliance and unyielding pride.
"No matter what rules you follow or how you choose to approach me and my crew, my answer will always remain the same," Temoshí declared, his voice unwavering and cutting through the air with intensity. "I will never—never—throw away my freedom to help the marines. I see my life through a different lens, one that doesn't involve bowing to your chains. So, let me make myself perfectly clear: not in a hundred years will I join forces with you!"
His words, sharp and resolute, hung in the air like a blade ready to strike. Lucina, unfazed but visibly calculating, slowly raised her arm. "In that case," she began with chilling composure, her gesture setting off a chain reaction among the fleet. In perfect synchrony, the marines locked their muskets onto the crew, the metallic clicks of readiness echoing like a countdown to chaos. Each soldier stood poised, awaiting Lucina's command to unleash their fury.
"You are hereby sentenced to execution," she declared coldly, her tone leaving no room for compromise. And just as the first fingers began to tighten on the triggers, chaos erupted, shattering the tense stillness into a storm of pandemonium..
The tension in the air was palpable as the fleet of marines closed in, their muskets trained on the crew, fingers tightening on triggers. The once calm surroundings now felt oppressive as a storm of uncertainty loomed. Kyora, unable to mask the growing anxiety, her face tightening, whispered under her breath. "This... This can't be how it ends, can it?" Her knuckles whitened, gripping her staff as if it could shield her from the weight of the moment.
Beside her, Tarot shifted uneasily. He couldn't shake the feeling that at any second, they would be torn apart by the sharp, unforgiving blast of musket fire. His usually carefree demeanor was replaced by a rare, grim expression. Sweat trickled down his brow as his staff trembled in his hand. "I... I don't know, Kyora. This doesn't feel like the kind of party I want to be at," he muttered, voice low, but there was no hiding the fear creeping into his voice.
Across from them, Nathaniel's steady eyes narrowed. His fingers hovered over his holster as if testing the air, calculating his next move. Sweat beaded on his forehead as his breath came in shallow bursts, and though his face remained calm, the tension was unbearable. Joker stood by his side, his usual bravado gone, replaced by a rare seriousness. His hand, usually carefree, hovered near his illusions as he focused on the situation at hand. Elliott was at the ready too, his expression cold, calculating the fastest escape routes while his muscles coiled, ready to spring into action.
The crew had been in countless confrontations, but this… this was different. The magnitude of the threat had them all on edge, and it felt like a matter of seconds before the marines opened fire.
And then, as if the air itself decided to shift, it happened.
Temoshí's gaze didn't waver, his eyes cold and unblinking as they scanned the marines before him. His lips, once slightly parted, now pressed into a firm line. The wind around him began to stir, but it wasn't natural. It felt as if the air itself was holding its breath, waiting for something.
Slowly, with a deliberate slowness that seemed almost unnatural, he stepped forward. The creaking of the ship's wooden deck under his feet was drowned by the sound of a faint crack. His boot made contact with the cement dock, and the surface seemed to recoil in response, cracking beneath the sheer weight of his step. The force left an imprint of his boot, the ground beneath him slowly melting, almost as if it were being scorched by an unseen fire. His presence alone was enough to distort the air around him, causing ripples in the once-still environment.
His footsteps were heavy, deliberate, each one shaking the earth, as if announcing the impending chaos that would soon follow. He didn't speak. His body, cloaked in the aura of power, moved forward with such precision and grace that it was as if the world bent to his will.
The marines held their ground, even as their commander stood unmoved, her eyes narrowing, prepared for whatever came next. Lucina, standing firm, could sense it too. Something was about to happen. Faustina, on the other hand, seemed unfazed—almost entertained by the sight of the crew's impending fate.
Temoshí stopped just before the fleet. His body was still, but the tension was unbearable. His eyes flickered, and a change swept over him, something almost primal. A blue light, intense and pulsing with electricity, began to glow from within him, radiating outward in sharp, jagged waves, like lightning ready to strike. The air grew thick, heavy with the weight of his presence, and the temperature seemed to drop.
Without warning, his eyes shot open wide.
The shockwave came.
It wasn't a simple wave—it was a force, a monumental surge of energy that tore through the very atmosphere. It tore through the docks and rushed outward with the force of a thousand storms. The sound of wind crashing against everything, deafening in its intensity, combined with the crackling of black lightning streaking through the air. It was like the very heavens themselves had torn open, and the universe screamed in answer. The ground beneath his feet shattered as if it were nothing, the shockwave spreading outwards in all directions.
The marines, unprepared for the sheer magnitude of the power unleashed, were caught off guard. One by one, their bodies crumpled under the force, their knees buckling as if their spirits had been ripped from their bodies. The sound of their collapse filled the air—some fell face-first into the ground, others lost their weapons, their minds unable to comprehend the sheer terror that overwhelmed them.
Even Lucina, standing firm in her resolve, felt the tremor of the shockwave hit her, but she managed to hold her ground, her body shaking from the sheer intensity of the pressure. Faustina too remained standing, her posture unyielding, though her eyes widened with a mix of recognition and apprehension.
The world seemed to stand still for a brief moment, the echoes of the shockwave dissipating like the final notes of a thunderous symphony. The marines who had once stood as a formidable force lay scattered, incapacitated, their will shattered by the overwhelming presence of the pirate before them.
Temoshí stood there, his eyes calm but burning with an inner fire, his body radiating with the aftermath of the attack. The blue light faded, and the air began to settle, but the damage was done. The marines were defeated, broken, their spirits crushed by the mere presence of his will.
Kyora, her breath catching in her throat, stared in disbelief. "What... what just happened?" she whispered, her voice trembling as she looked around, seeing the fallen marines who had been so sure of themselves moments before.
Tarot shook his head, his mouth dry. "I-I didn't even see it coming… That was insane."
Nathaniel, his heart racing, turned to face the crew, his face a mixture of awe and disbelief. "Was that… was that the forbidden power of... Supremacy?" he muttered, his voice low, almost unsure.
Joker, who had been standing beside him, finally let out a breath, his body still tense. "I don't even know anymore... That power, it felt like… like he could do anything. What was that force?" He turned to face the crew, confusion and awe mixing in his expression.
Elliott was silent, his usual calmness shattered by what he had witnessed. His fingers twitched at his side, as if still expecting the fight to continue. "Is this... even real?" he asked, his voice hollow.
The crew stood in stunned silence, each member trying to process the intensity of what had just unfolded. The marines were incapacitated, scattered across the dock, unable to move, their bodies twisted in strange positions, as though their will to fight had been stolen from them in an instant.
But Temoshí stood there, motionless. The weight of what he had done hung in the air, and yet, to him, it was just another step forward. The power of Supremacy, the raw force of his will, had crushed his enemies before him.
And yet, for the first time, he allowed himself to reflect. He looked at his crew, their stunned faces, their questions swirling in the air. They had witnessed something unimaginable, something that none of them had ever prepared for.
Temoshí let the silence stretch out for a long moment before finally breaking it with a single sentence, his voice as cold and calm as the calm after a storm.
"Never forget that power comes at a price."
To be continued...