A month had passed since The Abyss had departed from Isla de los Perdidos, and the open sea had since become a constant companion. The vast expanse of water stretched endlessly in every direction, a mirror of the sky that seemed to swallow the ship whole. The crew had settled into the steady rhythm of life at sea, their tasks carried out with the efficiency born of experience. But beneath the surface calm, an undercurrent of tension pulsed, growing stronger with each passing day.
Jacob stood at the bow of The Abyss, his eyes fixed on the horizon. The sun was sinking lower, its golden light casting long shadows across the deck and painting the sky in hues of orange and pink. It was a beautiful sight, one that might have inspired awe or peace under different circumstances. But tonight, the beauty of the sunset was lost on Jacob. His thoughts were consumed by the task ahead—the convoy they were closing in on, the artifact they sought, and the battle that loomed just beyond the horizon.
The new sails and rigging had given The Abyss a speed and agility it hadn't possessed in years, and the crew had grown accustomed to the ship's newfound power. There was a confidence in their movements, a certainty that they could handle whatever came their way. But as they neared the convoy, that confidence was tinged with something else—anticipation, perhaps, or even fear.
Jacob could feel it in the air, a tension that hung over the ship like a storm cloud. The crew's conversations had grown quieter in the last few days, their laughter less frequent. Even Garrett, usually so steady and unflappable, had a furrow in his brow that hadn't been there before. The men were preparing themselves for what was to come, steeling their nerves for the battle that would soon erupt.
But it wasn't just the crew that felt the weight of the coming conflict. Jacob himself had been grappling with his own thoughts, his mind a constant whirl of strategy, fear, and ambition. The system's influence, always present but often quiet, had been stirring more frequently as they drew closer to their target. The dark power within him, the power he had been honing and testing in secret, was ready to be unleashed.
"System," Jacob whispered, his voice barely audible above the wind that tugged at his clothes and hair, "I've avoided using my powers in battle. The drain… it's too much. But now, I think I'm ready. I need an edge."
The system's voice responded, its tone as cold and emotionless as ever. [Your mental reserves have increased since your last battle. You are now capable of wielding your powers more effectively in combat. However, be mindful of the toll it takes. Prolonged use may leave you vulnerable.]
Jacob nodded slowly, his gaze never leaving the horizon. He had felt the strain of using his abilities before—the exhaustion, the sense of being hollowed out from the inside. But this time was different. He had prepared for this moment, had conditioned himself to handle the power, and had absorbed enough souls to strengthen his resolve. He was more than just a man now—he was something more, something that could bend the world to his will if he played his cards right.
The crew had begun to gather on the deck, their attention focused on the distant sails that had appeared on the horizon—faint and ghostly in the fading light. The convoy was within sight, and soon, The Abyss would close the distance. The men moved with purpose, checking weapons, tightening ropes, and bracing themselves for the inevitable clash. The air was thick with anticipation, every man on edge, waiting for the order to strike.
Jacob turned away from the horizon and faced the crew. They looked up at him, their faces a mixture of trust and apprehension. They had followed him this far, through battles, storms, and treacherous waters. But tonight would be different. Tonight, they would see him in a new light—not just as their boatswain, but as a leader who could guide them to victory, no matter the odds.
"Men!" Jacob called out, his voice strong and clear, cutting through the sounds of the sea and the wind. "We've trained for this. We've fought for this. And now, we take what is rightfully ours! Stand with me, and we will claim victory!"
A roar of approval rose from the crew, their confidence bolstered by Jacob's words. The ship surged forward, cutting through the waves with the ferocity of a predator closing in on its prey. The enemy ships were now more clearly visible, their sails stark against the darkening sky. The time for action was nearly upon them.
As the enemy convoy came into range, Jacob felt the dark power within him stir once more. It was a cold, insistent presence, demanding to be used, to be unleashed upon those who dared stand in his way. This time, he would not hold back. He would use every ounce of his strength, every bit of his cunning, to ensure that The Abyss emerged victorious.
Just then, the system's voice echoed in his mind, cold and precise.
[Soul absorbed. One additional soul has been bound to your power, Soul count: 7/10]
Jacob's breath caught for a moment as the system's words registered. A soul had been absorbed—but how? His thoughts immediately went to the cursed coin he had planted with the fence back on Isla de los Perdidos. The coin, infused with the Curse of Misfortune, was designed to bring death and calamity to those who came into contact with it. It seemed that its dark work had begun.
A grim satisfaction settled over Jacob as he considered the implications. The coin was out there, circulating through the hands of the unwary, spreading chaos and death in its wake. And with each death, a portion of the soul's energy would return to him, strengthening his power even further. The realization was as intoxicating as it was chilling.
But there was no time to dwell on it now. The battle was about to begin, and Jacob needed to focus on the task at hand. The crew was looking to him for guidance, their confidence bolstered by his leadership but still dependent on his strength.
Garrett appeared at his side, his expression grim but determined. "We're ready, Jacob. The men are with you."
Jacob nodded, his eyes never leaving the convoy. The knowledge that the cursed coin had claimed a life fueled his resolve. "Good. Let's make sure this is a fight they'll never forget."
Garrett nodded in return and moved to relay the orders to the crew. As the men prepared the cannons and readied their weapons, Jacob took a moment to steady himself, drawing on the power within him. He could feel the system's presence, guiding him, strengthening him, and he welcomed it. The battle ahead would be fierce, but he was ready. More than ready.
With a final glance at the horizon, where the last light of the sun was disappearing below the edge of the world, Jacob steeled himself for the fight ahead. The convoy would soon learn the true meaning of fear, and Jacob would prove, once and for all, that he was destined for greatness.
The calm before the storm was over. The time for action had come.