Act 0
The air was thick with the stench of blood and gunpowder. The raid had gone terribly wrong.
Kael staggered forward, vision blurring as his body screaming with every step. The once-rowdy bounty crew of The Iron Fang had been shattered.
Some of them were dead, he could still hear the dying gasps of his mates, impaled on a spear. Others had fled, their loyalty crumbling the moment things turned south.
But the worst part?
Some had switched sides...
Kael watched in disbelief as Renna, his second-in-command, stood beside the enemy, her blade still slick with the blood of their crewmates.
As Varlo, the gunner, had thrown down his rifle and joined the enemy ranks without hesitation.
"Should've seen this coming, Kael,"
Renna said, her voice carrying an edge of regret.
"You kept holding us back. This was the only way forward."
'Holding them back? We were bounty hunters, not mercenaries, not butchers.'
He clenched his fists, rage enveloping his entire body.
Behind them, the enemy warlord, Captain Draeven, stood at the head of his forces. A towering brute man, covered in a blackened fur cloak, eyes gleaming like he had already won.
Kael spat blood.
"So, what now? You kill me and call it a day?"
Draeven chuckled, stepping forward.
"Kill you? No. But you'll die all the same."
He turned to his men.
"Leave him here. Let the sea take what's left."
Renna hesitated for only a second before turning away. The others followed.
One by one, they walked away,
leaving Kael bleeding in the dirt.
The sound of their boots faded into the night. Rain began to fall, slow at first, then harder, washing away the blood but not the betrayal. Kael collapsed to his knees, coughing, his strength leaving him...
And that's when he saw it.
Half-buried in the mud, glistening under the storm's light-a Mystic Fruit.
A twisted, unnatural thing, its surface swirling like a living void. A fruit of unknown power, one that could mean salvation... or a fate worse than death.
Kael had heard the stories. Once you eat one, there's no going back.
But he was already at the edge. Already abandoned...
With trembling fingers, he grabbed the fruit and sank his teeth into its flesh.
. . .