Screams, cries for help, and the resounding clash of weapons reverberated ceaselessly across the vast expanse of the sea. Two medium - sized sailing ships, bound together by sturdy planks and thick chains, formed a precarious battlefield. Amid the surrounding waters, the shadowy forms of sharks could be faintly discerned, patiently lurking, their cold eyes fixed on the ships, eagerly anticipating the next meal.
With each pirate slain and unceremoniously hurled
overboard, it signaled the commencement of a savage feast for these voracious predators. This was the scene of a fierce and unrelenting battle between two rival pirate crews. Both sides had long - standing grudges, and surrender was out of the question. Only when one side was completely vanquished would the other claim ultimate victory. As a result, the combatants fought with a ferocity that bordered on madness. Even Arlen, who was typically inclined to shirk his duties at every opportunity, was now ablaze with an uncharacteristic zeal. His slender scimitar, already stained with the blood of seven or eight men, glinted menacingly in the sunlight.
Arlen, seemingly around eighteen or nineteen years old, boasted a lithe build and handsome features. Were it not for the prominent scar that traversed his left eyebrow, left eye, and extended down to his cheekbone, he might have easily passed for an elegant young scion of the nobility.
Thud…
The slender tip of the scimitar pierced deep into a pirate's abdomen, swiftly dispatching him. Arlen attempted to withdraw his scimitar, only to be met with fierce resistance. The dying pirate clung to the blade with a desperation born of impending death, his face contorted with a mixture of despair and malicious madness.
"Tsk, what a troublesome wretch," Arlen muttered under his breath. Without a moment's hesitation, he released his grip on the scimitar, deftly ducked to avoid a scimitar slashing towards him from behind, and in one fluid motion, drew two daggers from his boots. With a rapid spin of his body, the daggers flashed through the air, slicing cleanly across the necks of two pirates who had attempted to ambush him. With a flick of his wrists, the daggers hurtled through the air like deadly projectiles, embedding themselves in the chest of another pirate charging recklessly towards him.
Arlen promptly snatched the weapon from the pirate he had just felled, finished off the pirate who had been struck in the thigh and chest by his throwing knives, retrieved his daggers, and smoothly reinserted them into his boots. Then, he resumed his merciless assault, cutting a swath through the enemy ranks.
Thud…
The scimitar arced through the air, slashing across the neck of a burly pirate. After flicking the blood from his scimitar, Arlen was on the verge of turning to seek out another opponent when he suddenly detected the unmistakable sound of a battle axe or some other massive, heavy - bladed weapon cleaving through the air. His body arched backward with astonishing flexibility, as if boneless, his hand firmly planted on the ground for support. With a powerful push from his hands and feet, he launched himself backward, narrowly evading the massive blade aimed at him, and slipping deftly between the legs of the towering pirate behind him.
His body executed a half - flip in mid - air, and he landed gracefully. Arlen's eyes locked onto the burly pirate who had turned around, and he immediately recognized him.
"Raging Bear? The second mate of the Santa Maria?"
Raging Bear fixed Arlen with a malevolent grin, his eyes glinting with malice. "They say that Arlen, the third mate of the Black Shark, is a beauty more exquisite than a woman. I scoffed at the idea at first, but now I see that there truly are men like you in this world. Given the chance, I wouldn't mind having a bit of fun with someone like you."
Arlen licked his blood - stained lips and flashed his trademark sunny smile, a smile that seemed out of place in this violent melee. "Many have expressed a desire to spend the night with me. I'm just skeptical that you possess the mettle to do so."
"Then allow me to prove otherwise!"
Raging Bear took a menacing step forward, his foot slamming down on the deck with such force that it left a deep crack in the wooden planks. With strength far surpassing that of an ordinary man, he swung his massive machete at Arlen with all his might.
Sensing the attack approaching, Arlen did not retreat. Instead, he surged forward, his body low and lithe, like a coiled serpent. He slipped through the narrow gap in Raging Bear's strike with remarkable agility. As he passed by Raging Bear, his scimitar lashed out, slicing across the back of Raging Bear's knee, leaving a wound that, while not overly deep, was sufficient to impede his movement.
The searing pain in his leg elicited a deafening roar of anger from Raging Bear. He planted his feet firmly on the deck, his hands gripping the machete with a white - knuckled intensity, and swung it at Arlen as he pivoted his body.
Arlen did not even spare a glance at Raging Bear's attack. After deftly dodging the previous strike, he lunged forward two steps, using the mast as a springboard to propel himself into the air. He executed a perfect backflip, neatly avoiding Raging Bear's assault. While upside - down in mid - air, he swung his scimitar with precision, leaving a deep gash on Raging Bear's shoulder that would surely slow his subsequent attacks.
Landing lightly on his feet, Arlen wasted no time. He drew a dagger from his boot and, with a practiced throw, sent it hurtling towards the back of Raging Bear's knee before the pirate could fully turn around. The dagger found its mark, embedding itself in Raging Bear's left knee, causing his leg to buckle beneath him, and forcing him to kneel.
Seizing the golden opportunity, Arlen charged forward, leaped onto Raging Bear's back, and with all his might, drove his scimitar downward from the injured shoulder, piercing Raging Bear's neck.
Raging Bear's eyes widened in shock, his yellowed whites now suffused with a web of bloodshot veins. He opened his mouth, as if attempting to utter a final word, but no sound emerged. Only dark red blood foam bubbled from his mouth and nostrils. His massive body teetered for a moment before slowly collapsing to the ground, soon rendered completely lifeless.
Letting out a long - drawn breath, Arlen wiped the sweat from his forehead and regarded Raging Bear's corpse with a hint of disdain. "Seems like that's the best you could muster," he murmured.
Having slain the enemy's second mate, Arlen had far exceeded his initial mission. Coupled with the numerous other enemy pirates he had dispatched earlier, he had lost all interest in continuing the battle. He perched himself on the ship's railing, quietly biding his time for the battle to reach its inevitable conclusion.
During this interlude, some enemy pirates, mistaking Arlen's stillness for vulnerability, attempted to charge at him for an easy kill. However, Arlen simply reached into his waist, drew out a pistol, and with a casual pull of the trigger, shot the pirate dead. After this display, no one dared to consider him an easy target.
Approximately twenty minutes later, the battle finally reached its denouement. There were no survivors. All the bodies were unceremoniously flung into the sea, becoming a sumptuous meal for the waiting sharks. As for the Santa Maria, a ship no smaller than the Black Shark, it was rechristened the Gray Shark and inducted as the second ship in the Black Shark fleet.
Arlen remained seated on the railing, motionless, until an old pirate, his head adorned with a tattered scarf and his face framed by a thick beard, approached. Only then did Arlen gracefully dismount from the railing and fix his gaze on the old pirate.
"Old Snore, did the captain send for me?"
Old Snore nodded gravely and addressed Arlen. "The captain's cabin on the Black Shark. The captain has summoned all the officers to make an announcement… This time, try to rein in your temper a bit. Don't constantly lock horns with the first mate. He's the captain's right - hand man, and it won't serve you well to antagonize him."
Arlen shook his head with a knowing smile, his eyes following the pirates as they busily transferred items from the Santa Maria - now the Gray Shark - onto the Black Shark. He spoke softly to Old Snore, "If I were to make peace with the first mate, it would actually displease the captain. You don't seem to grasp that. No wonder you're the most senior pirate on the ship yet still just an ordinary crew member."
Old Snore rolled his eyes in annoyance and retorted disdainfully, "I simply have no desire to be an officer. Do you think the captain hasn't offered me the position? I just declined!"
"And thank heavens you did, or you'd likely be dead by now."