[Arc] Mountains and Plains: Part I - Spider Miles Challenge

Floating on the murky waters, several small Navy ships loomed near Spider Miles. Poor on weaponry, but wealthy on sails and paddles, these were the notorious pursuit unit. Like a pack of wolves, they stalked the harbor. No ships were getting in or out. Even the tiniest shipping boats were stopped and searched by a small army.

Inside the flagship, three figures sat around a round war table. Two younger officers flanked a lean, scarred man. At the center, a black snail blabbed someone else’s secrets. Hunched in deep concentration, they listened to the hushed whispers. Upon catching the location, they shared a strange glance.

The scarred man leaned back in his seat, nursing a black eye with a bag of ice. His graying mustache twitched as he hummed and harrumphed. Eventually, he glanced to his sides and voiced a question. “What do you make of this, Warrant Officer Mat? Warrant Officer Pat?”

At his words, the young, blonde men next to him snapped to attention. “Sir. I believe they got careless because they were in a hurry.” His words were met with quick nodding from his near identical comrade. “Yes, sir. Or they are getting desperate.”

The leader shook his head at the answers. “Hmph, naive... No, it means our former friends are, once again, a step ahead of us.” He steepled his fingers over a map of the island. “Clearly, they predicted that we would be tapping their communications.” Several locations had been circled and crossed. “Now, they have set us a trap and rolled out the red carpet... Worse yet, we have no choice but to take the bait.” His finger hovered over the abandoned end of the docks, tapping at the unlucky number.

“Send in the smallest task force. Keep reinforcements at ready. Smoke those traitors out. Literally if necessary. Incendiary methods are authorized. Move out.”

“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Sir, yes, sir!”

Mere minutes later, a Navy boat docked and a team of seven rushed through the docks. They were armed with peculiar, wide-muzzled muskets. More ominous yet were the bandoliers of brown bottles stuffed with cloth wicks. They left a stench of tar and oil trailing in their wake.

Near the docks, in a lovely, little seaside cafe, sat a strange, quiet shadow. At least six feet tall and muscular in build, the masculine stranger was clad from head to toe in a shining, white armor. A hefty helmet covered his entire head and a pitch-black visor hid his identity. Not to be mistaken for a mere brute, however, he was leafing through the most recent News Coo, while a waitress poured him a steaming hot cup of tea.

...Only upon closer inspection it became apparent that the knight was holding the paper upside down. Slowly, he brought the cup up to his lips. ...Er, or rather where his lips presumably were beneath the helmet. Scalding tea splashed onto his lap. Steam danced in the air. Unperturbed, he set the cup down and went back to his paper.

As dozens of footsteps rushed past, the stranger glanced up from his reading. The dark visor stared briefly after the soldiers. Slowly, his attention drifted onto a stack of brown posters on the table. The picture of a voluptuous woman adorned the topmost one. After a pause, he got up, slapped a generous wad of bills onto the table and marched off.

Another shadow took notice of the commotion as well. A disheveled woman covered in grime sat on a nearby rooftop. She looked like she hadn’t bathed or slept properly for a week. Flies circled her tangled hair. Mud stained her tattered clothing. In her grasp was a nearly empty bottle. Hers reeked only of the cheapest booze, however.

That’s partially why the homeless warrior’s nose twitched. She recognized the stinging smell of gunpowder and other tools of violence. Someone was about to have a bad day, it seemed. Yet she couldn’t find the energy to even care. Ever since she had escaped Mini-Oni, all she had found was greed, hate and bloodshed... Truly, there was no goodness left anywhere. She downed the last disgusting swig and gagged at the wretched taste.

As far as she was concerned, this whole world could burn.

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Total: 706 / 13 500

The final droplets of booze dripped weakly into the air, before getting whisked away by the salty breeze. Yumiko gave the drained bottle one more unenthusiastic shake. Her head drooped with a weary sigh. She was officially out of money, owning only the clothes on her back and the blade by her side.

Slowly, the disgraced warrior’s gaze drifted onto her weapon. Nobody would pay anything for her filthy clothes, but this blade was still worth something... She could no longer call herself a samurai, hardly even a swordswoman. Someone more deserving might find use for the mysterious sword... And if she was lucky, the next bottle of poison would finally finish her off. It didn’t do anything else for her anymore.

Yumiko let her gaze wander along the horizon. Somewhere in the back of her mind, an old song played. It was one of the many that her mother used to sing. She couldn’t quite recall the words to go with the tune, not all of them. The beginning slipped from her mouth out into the winds.

“I’ve come here from nowhere...
Across the unforgiving sea...
Drifting further and further...
It’s all becoming clear to me... Gah-!”

The fledgling singer recoiled, when her wandering gaze found someone staring back. On the street down below stood an armored stranger. Even through the pitch-black visor of the thick helmet, she could feel the unflinching eyes drilling into her. Confusion and embarrassment entwined together like rapidly growing vines. When did he get there? How long had he been listening?

Something about the silent man sent a deep shiver down Yumiko’s back. Her hair bristled. She didn’t even notice her hand creeping to the handle of her blade. Her animal instincts were screaming at her to get away. Swallowing nervously, she steeled her nerves and stood her ground. The tense seconds ticked by in uneasy silence.

Suddenly, a howl of pure, unadulterated frustration shattered the stillness. Seagulls scattered, screeching wildly. The mysterious knight slowly turned his attention towards the fading sound. Without a word, he marched off.

Yumiko finally let out the breath she had been holding all this time. Cold sweat trailed down her brow. Who...? Nay... What was that...? Despite her vantage point, it had felt like she was the one staring up at a giant. She took a deep breath and relaxed her stance. Her trembling hand brushed against the loyal blade by her side. Perhaps... She shouldn’t be so hasty to discard it just yet...

The wanderer shook off the last shivers. Despite the lingering apprehension, she felt strangely... alive. It was as if an ember had reignited in her heart. She couldn’t say she liked it much, having already lost her will to live. Nevertheless, with it came curiosity she hadn’t felt since her days as a hunter back home. What the devil was that noise...? Hopping along the rooftops, she headed towards the abandoned docks, hoping to find some answers and snuff out this final ember for good.

Likewise, the Marines had heard the shout as well. It was difficult not to hear it, really. Now all of Spider Miles knew the trio was here. Moving with the efficiency of an oiled pocket watch, the taskforce drew closer to the thirteenth building.

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Even in such a sorry state, Yumiko had no trouble traversing the rooftops. With the wind forever at her back, every leap led further and every landing was softer. She had never particularly liked her curse, but... Ever since she had started embracing it, she had felt herself growing rapidly stronger. It was like the puzzle pieces were finally clicking into place after all these years. She was still missing a few though. The picture was far from complete.

The weasel’s sharp ears twitched at the commotion down below. First, there was an awful racket, like something falling over. Soon after, she heard someone shouting. An oddly familiar scent tickled her nose as well. She couldn’t quite place who it belonged to, but it certainly sparked some strong irritation in her. Stopping on top of a hangar opposite of number 13, she reluctantly peeked at the scene unfolding below...

By now, the seven soldiers had the hangar surrounded. They let the fiery-haired woman enter, before exchanging a conspiratorial nod. It was now or never. Their squad leader motioned at the sliding door and swept his hand between the closest comrades. “You three, with me. Block the exit and pick your targets. Take them alive.” His commanding finger aimed a point at the remaining allies. “You three, watch the perimeter.” With a wordless salute, all seven went to work.

The squad leader and his three comrades rushed through the door. Brandishing their guns, they found... The woman all alone? “Freeze! You’re under-! What the...?” The confused shout echoed in an empty hall. “Where are the defectors? Answer me!” With the way dust coated the floor, it seemed this place hadn’t been habited by anyone but rats for years.

While the Marines were busy securing the warehouse, they failed to notice an extra figure arriving among them. For someone wearing a full set of armor, the mysterious stranger marched far too quietly. He stopped to stare at the soldiers taking positions. His hidden gaze seemed to linger on their armaments. He glanced down at his blank chest piece and empty hands.

After a silent pause, the armored man marched to a nearby pile of junk. With intense focus, he dug out a length of rope, a couple of empty bottles, as well as a slightly bent metal pipe. The rope secured the bottles against his chest like an imitation bandolier. Holding the pipe much like a pretend musket, he stepped back into the Marine ranks and took position as well. His presence went completely unnoticed.

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The Marines hesitated at the peculiar answer. “Business... what...?” While three of them kept their guns trained on the suspicious woman, the squad leader dug out an adorably small snail. “Sir, we are at the location. No sign of the targets. There’s only a weird homeless woman here.” Being quick and efficient left no room for being polite.

On the other end, a dry voice let out a pensive harrumph. The snail closed his eyes and adopted a pondering expression. “Hmph, naive...” Suddenly, one of its eyes opened. “This is the trap.” Its graying mustache positively quivered with dramatic energy.

The seaman gave the curvy suspect a puzzled glance. “You mean, she has a-” He didn’t get to finish the thought. “What? No. I mean she’s the bait, meant to lure you in and keep you busy.” Despite the snail’s hasty clarification, the grunt still didn’t quite follow.

However, the Lieutenant had already drawn the obvious conclusions. “The traitors led you there on purpose, to trap you. No doubt their reinforcements are already securing an escape route. Damn those tactical masterminds...” Going against their prowess felt like playing chess with half the pieces. He was at a constant disadvantage.

This required drastic measures...

Fortunately, the Lieutenant too was a veritable veteran of making a mountain out of a molehill the battlefield. He had a plan of action ready for this exact scenario, to save his naive soldiers. “Spread out. Light up the whole district. Close their escape routes and funnel them towards the sea. Our ships will intercept any escape attempt.” Spider Miles was a lawless pile of rubbish, impossible to search, but there was nowhere to hide on the open sea.

Finally, the grunts were catching on as well. They shared hesitant looks, distracted from their suspect. “But sir... What if the flames spread to populated areas...?” A couple of the soldiers brushed their bottles pensively. Only now it seemed to sink in that they were actually expected to use their incendiary arsenal.

The voice behind the snail picked up on the hesitation. A heavy sigh made its mustache heave. “We will put out the fire after we have dealt with the defectors. Peace requires sacrifices. If we have to sacrifice hundreds to save thousands, then so be it. I am counting on you.” With the grim sense of finality, the snail fell quiet. The Lieutenant buried his face in his hands. He took no enjoyment from this...

But they had left him no choice.

Up on the nearby rooftop, the weasel woman listened with deep disdain. Now the lingering scent of tar and oil was making a disgusting amount of sense. Tch, this was no hunt. Where was their honor? Or even their hunter’s pride? Of course the Marine command would be rotten here too... What had she even expected?

Some broken remnant of the former samurai wanted to intervene. It was screaming at her to stop them, before they could do something unforgivable. However, her overwhelming apathy soon suffocated the weak voice. It was none of her concern. She turned her back on the scene about to unfold. With any luck, the flames would swallow her too, a fitting end for trash.

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As the Revolutionary charged, the Marines were caught off-guard. Their squad leader managed to narrowly dive aside, but the rest weren’t quite as swift. Two were caught dead on and launched aside. Four more got clipped and stumbled backwards.

Only a single one of the eight white-clad figures remained standing. He also happened to be the odd one out. The cutting gust carved right through the held pipe and the empty bottles. Shards of glass rained onto the pavement. However, it merely scraped against the white armor with a shower of sparks, as if clashing against some unseen force. Not even scratches remained on the shining steel.

The mysterious stranger looked down at his ruined pipe and unceremoniously dropped the halves. His hidden gaze focused keenly on the fleeing Revolutionary... But he made no move to stop her. Rather, he glanced at the downed Marines, silently studying their struggle, neither helping nor hindering.

Naturally, the squad leader was the first to find his footing again. He helped his closest friends up, who in turn went to help the others. “Follow the orders! Split up! Close the exits!” Hesitation had flared to full on anger. That attack had cemented the Revolutionary as their enemy. In the chaos, no one seemed to notice there was one too many of them.

“Don’t let any of them escape!”

Right on command, the six others took off sprinting. Bottles were brandished. Lighters were flicked. Oil splashed and fire roared. One after another, the alleyways and exits were blocked off by smoke and flames. The fire bit greedily onto the piles of junk littering the abandoned area, licking the walls of the hangars. In Spider Miles, there was no shortage of trash. Unfortunately, much of it was also awfully flammable...

The timer had started.

Seemingly inspired by this burst of activity, the armored oddball marched off as well. This time he picked up the pace too, going double time. His determined footsteps led towards the direction where the cloaked woman had fled.

Yumiko watched from her vantage point, as all Hell broke loose. Her sharp ears had caught the suspicious squeak. It was like someone had tried to open a rusty can of soup with a spoon. In the hunter’s opinion, their stealth desperately needed work. At this rate, they would all get trapped and caught in a matter of moments.

The weasel woman clicked her tongue. Her imaginary tail lashed with growing irritation. Why was she getting invested in this? She had already promised herself this did not concern her. So why did standing idle sting so much?

Unable -or unwilling- to answer the question, the mangy warrior summoned a gust of wind that launched her onto the next rooftop. It was that strange man, she decided for her excuse. Something about him was making her hair stand on end... She had to find out his intentions.

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Total: 2691 / 13 500

As a loud echo bounced between the empty warehouses, several heads turned towards the source of the shout. The Marines regrouped, giving chase along the same route. Rapid footsteps drummed the ground. They were gaining quickly.

Up on the rooftops, the weasel woman ran with a night-soundless pitter patter. With the wind on her back, she was far faster than those on the ground. Another leap sent her soaring over a sea of fire down below. The trash was burning quickly and the hungry flames were spreading onto the buildings.

Yumiko stopped onto the rooftop overlooking the alley. The rising smoke scratched at her throat. Coughing, she tried to tug her kimono in front of her mouth. Her eyes were watering, making it harder to see what was happening down there. Luckily, her sharp ears served her well. She caught the conversation and silently judged their dishonorable tactics.

However, there was another sound that concerned her far more...

Heavy thumps shook the area, like thundering footsteps of a giant. Metal groaned and concrete cried. Suddenly, the wall ahead exploded open with yet another thump, as if shot with a cannon. The armored man stepped through the hole, blocking the path. He looked to his left... Nothing there... And then to the right, locking his attention onto the escapees.

Surprise and disbelief brought the plotting to a screeching halt. “Who the bloody hell is that...?” James muttered beneath his breath, prompting a spark of horrified recognition from his colleague. “Oh no...” Raising a brow, he turned to Jeremy. “Oh no what? Spit it out. You know him?” Honestly, he was more surprised that the oaf knew anyone at all around here.

Jeremy cleared his throat and spread his hands, like he was holding an invisible ball. “Well... Some say that his heart ticks like a pocket watch and that he is confused by stairs.” He gestured at the menacing stranger. “All we know is, he’s called the Stick.”

After an awkward pause, the older tactician passed a skeptical glance between his comrade and the roadblock. “Hold on... The Stig? You mean that legendary bounty hunter? All the way out here in the middle of bloody nowhere?” His doubts called for a quick clarification. “Nono, that’s his better-known New World cousin. This one’s the Stick, also a bounty hunter.” Despite Jeremy’s explanation, James still didn’t seem all that convinced though.

“Well, that’s a rubbish name if I ever heard one.”

As soon as the comment left the surly man’s lips, the bounty hunter started marching closer. “...I think he heard you.” Richard offered not-very-helpfully. All three defectors quickly huddled to try and hide behind the revolutionary’s back. With a bounty hunter in front of them, Marines hot on their heels and the flames closing in, they were quite trapped. Which way now...?

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While the Revolutionary and her three charges carved a path through the wall, the hand of justice was close behind. The seven Marines burst through the hole in unison, aiming their rifles at the fleeing targets. “Stop, in the name of law!” One of them slipped on his words, telling them to stop in the name of ‘love’. He hoped nobody noticed.

Another hole burst open in the wall right next to the first one. The Stick lowered his fist and stepped casually through. He cast a quiet glance at the row of Marines. His gaze shifted back onto the target and he continued the relentless march, ignoring both the weapons and the growing flames.

As the support pillar buckled, every weakened wall groaned beneath the unbearable weight. The chasers all glanced upwards just in time to see the cracked ceiling coming down. Paralyzed by terror, the Marines only managed to scream. The Stick didn’t make a sound. A massive fireball erupted skywards, as the entire hangar collapsed. Only its charred skeleton remained.

Moments later, a small shadow appeared over the escapees. It was growing rapidly and looked an awful lot like... “Look ouuuuuut!” The homeless woman dropped less-than-gracefully in the middle of the group. Her hands and knees whined at the rough landing.

Yumiko coughed and sneezed from all the dust and soot swirling in the air. After that fall, she looked like a mangy stray cat that had climbed out of a chimney. “Are -cough- thou out of thy mind? Why would -hack- thou tear down the -‘choo- whole building?!” She ranted, while furiously brushing her face. Her gaze flitted around, searching for the disguised swordswoman. Much to her immediate dismay, she found a familiar visage.

“Thou...”

The former Marine’s trembling hand snapped around the handle of her sword. She gritted her teeth. The wounds of humiliation were fresh on her pride. “We meet again... Rias of Keko...” The temptation to lash out was only tempered by her sorry state. Her eyes were watering and her nose was dripping. Another cough was clawing at her aching chest, desperate to escape. She failed to hold it and doubled over, coughing her lungs out.

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Total: 3525 / 13 500

Yumiko’s eye twitched at the insult. She fought to control her own tongue in turn, while also choking back the coughs. “Nay, thou brought it upon thyself with thy reckless, shameless behavior. Thou broke the law. Nothing more, nothing less.” She spat with venomous confidence.

Slowly, the swordswoman tugged at her blade. The metal whispered as it scraped against the sheath. Her eyes narrowed into an icy glare. “‘Twas not mine place to question the laws. I merely enforced them.” A weapon did not question its purpose. Right and wrong were for the wielder to decide.

However, as soon as the warrior averted her gaze, the icy glare melted away at the sight of the flames around them. Despite her claim, a twinge of regret still stabbed at her chest. It was a dangerous sentiment. How many of the world’s greatest evils had been committed by soldiers who were ‘merely following orders’? This destruction too was the result of blind obedience.

It was making her stomach turn...

Yumiko hung her head with a heavy sigh. “Hmph, no matter... ‘Tis all in the past now...” She pulled her hand away from her weapon and folded her arms. “I am no longer a Marine. I left those fools, though a bigger fool I remain for believing them in the first place.” She muttered, shaking her head. Frankly, she didn’t care if she was believed or not. It didn’t matter. None of this mattered. There was nothing left of the proud, fierce woman who had tried to arrest the Revolutionary in the past.

The broken weasel shifted her attention onto the odd trio huddling behind their protector. Something about them tugged at her memories. Like she had seen a glimpse of them somewhere. Perhaps this was not the best place for a chat, but... She couldn’t deny the curiosity burning inside her mind. Who and why...? Those two questions blossomed first. Who were these oddly familiar men? And why were her former allies so hellbent on capturing them?

Focusing on the swordswoman, the vagabond warrior cocked her head. “Thou are hunted by a veritable force. Warships surround the harbor. What did thou do to deserve such fury?” She questioned keenly.

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For the disgraced samurai, it felt every incident among the blue forces looped back to corruption. Rather than surprise, she only felt bitter disappointment at the tale. Of course a high-ranking officer would seek to line his pockets. What else could you expect? She didn’t want to condone violence against one’s comrades, but... Pointing that out would’ve been the height of hypocrisy, coming from her.

So, she wisely kept those thoughts to herself.

The weary warrior breathed a slow sigh. “Mine story is brief and shameful. Anton of La’croix, the master of the Guardian Knights, is letting pirates join his ranks. I could not agree with his methods, so I abandoned mine crew and duty. The end.” It got a little easier, everytime she said it. Perhaps she had been repeating it to herself too much. Offering no further explanation, she fell quiet.

Fortunately, Jeremy was eager to fill the relative silence. “Top Sail is the highest-rated ship magazine and snail radio programme across all four Blues.” He declared proudly. “We examine and review ships, as well as compete in friendly challenges.” The word ‘friendly’ made his cohorts roll their eyes. He gleefully ignored them.

Yumiko cocked her head at the torrent of odd words shooting at her. “Uh... And... What does that have to do with thy predicament? I mean no offense, but all this to capture three... story-tellers... seems a bit excessive.” She tried her very best to wield that Wano Country politeness.

The mouthy man leapt at the chance to continue. “Hah, but we are not just witty and charming story-tellers, oh no. James here is a brilliant naval strategist. Has taken down entire fleets.” He gestured at the taller comrade. Then his hand swept towards the shorter one. “And Hammond is just as sharp with infantry. Nobody has been able to predict his next move.” He explained smugly.

Finally, the old man puffed his chest. “And me, well, I’m not one to brag...” He began, eliciting a derisive snort from his colleagues. “...But! Sometimes if you listen very carefully, you can hear my tactical genius, just ticking away like a well-oiled clock.” He tapped his temple.

The shorter strategist flashed a cheeky smile and leaned closer. “Like a sundial at night, you mean.” His snark was met with a glare. “Shut up, Hammond.” It failed to shut him up, however. “I mean, this is another fine mess you’ve gotten us into.” He gestured at the fire rapidly spreading to the buildings around them.

Jeremy scoffed, scoffed at the accusation. “It’s thanks to my quick thinking that we are even enjoying this breather. Bringing down the hangar? My idea. Nothing survives that old trick.” He sounded all too proud of himself.

Suddenly, as if purely to defy the cocky statement, the burning rubble fell apart with a crash. The flames flared higher. A grim silhouette stood in the middle of the blinding blaze. Armored boots clicked slowly against the smoldering ground. Click, click, click...

Calmly, the Stick walked out of the inferno. He was carrying one unconscious Marine over his shoulder and dragged another behind him. In stark contrast to their bloodied and scorched uniforms, his pale armor was utterly unscathed. As soon as he was out, he unceremoniously dropped them like a pair of potato sacks. His visored stare focused on the escapees.

James, meanwhile, took one look at the armored bounty hunter, before turning to his mouthy comrade. “Well, master tactician, what does your genius say about this?” Of course, years of experience -as well as common sense- allowed him to anticipate the answer.

“It says: run.”

Richard sprinted past the two like his arse was on fire. “Way ahead of you, fellas!” He beelined for the main street, which offered a straight shot to the main docks. There, the selection of ships to... borrow... was undoubtedly the best. But so was the security watching all of them.

The homeless warrior watched the tacticians flee, before casting a knowing glance at the fellow swordswoman. “Go. I shall hold him off.” She hesitated, but only briefly. “Thou are right, there were no laws broken back then... ‘Twas naught but mine anger and hubris at play.” She focused on the looming threat. “So consider this a repayment for that wrongfully accrued debt. ‘Tis no glorious battlefield, but... A pyre is not a bad way to go.”

Yumiko stepped between the chaser and the escapees. Her gaze focused on the reflection on the featureless visor. “Come, fearless hunter...” She dropped to all fours. Wild fur sprouted from her skin. Claws like scythes scraped against the ground.

“A beast stands in thy way.”

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The armored hunter said nothing. He merely took a step forward... Then another... Third. Step by step, the slow stride grew into a march, a jog, and finally a full-on sprint. Smoke parted like a curtain from his path. Steel clinking, the opponent charged through the burning battlefield at the speed of a runaway sea train.

Yumiko tensed. Her fur bristled. The blade-tipped tail coiled over her back like a scorpion’s stinger. It felt like she was facing a gigantic warship sailing at ramming speed. She fought against the animal instincts screaming at her to flee. Nay, this was where she made her last stand.

The mythical beast’s tactic was simple. She would wait until the very last second, bait out his attack and counter. All that speed and power, she would turn it against him... Or die trying. As the imminent impact drew closer, she braced herself. Any second now, he would attack... A deep breath sharpened her focus. Now or never!

...And the man simply ran past her.

Yumiko blinked. She glanced over her shoulder with a weird mixture of surprise, indignation and relief. That last one quickly turned into scorching shame. “H-hey! Where do thou think thou are going?!” She sprang after the enemy, leaping between walls to build up speed. Her shouts were ignored. “Look at me, when I’m fighting thee!” Overtaking the foe, she pounced and brought her blades down at his head with all her fury.

“I said... LOOK AT M-gurk!”

Suddenly, the bounty hunter hit the brakes. Ducking past the incoming slashes, he caught the mythical creature by the throat. His grip was like steel. Powerful. Unyielding. Cold. With a single hand, he effortlessly dangled the weasel off the ground.

A skilled warrior could tell an opponent’s intentions at a mere glance. Their body told a story that mere words couldn’t convey. It was this very story that sent chills down the woman’s spine. Behind that visor, there was nothing. No anger, no hate, not even killing intent. This man wasn’t even looking at her. To her, he was the strongest foe she had ever faced. To him, she was just in the way.

Driven by desperation, the suffocating fighter swung her tail. It struck the hunter right in the neck... And bounced off. She couldn’t even scratch his armor, as if she was blocked by an invisible force. It was a peculiar, terrifying feeling. Briefly, it had felt like she had tried cutting polished steel with a rusty butter knife. How could the difference be so vast? What was she missing?

Or rather, what exactly had she lost after sinking this low...?

Without even glancing at the struggling beast, the silent hunter stared after the fleeing targets. He took aim, pulled his arm back and... Launched the weasel like a javelin! It was a beautiful throw, really, a perfect arc over the rooftops. The only reason he missed was because said javelin was still conscious enough to glide in the air.

A weasel-shaped gust of wind flew over Rias. The water splashed. Slowly, the murky shape shrunk back to human size, while sinking beneath the surface. Now the swordswoman had four people to worry about, one of whom couldn’t swim.

Still, could be worse.

And, as a matter of fact, it was getting worse.

The flames kept spreading. By now they were biting the buildings lining the main docks. Smoke billowed. Screams echoed. People were trying to flee the area. Somewhere up the street, a burning sign fell and spooked a pair of horses pulling a carriage. The driver was flung off, while his ride stormed off without him.

The Stick continued his relentless pursuit. He reached the main street and looked both ways. To his right was a crying, little girl clutching her twisted ankle. Meanwhile, to his left were the fleeing targets... The poor girl desperately called for her mother. Fierce hooves hammered the cobblestone, as the runaway horses barreled down the street right at her.

However, the hunter silent didn’t even stop to ponder the dilemma. He stepped in front of the girl. Folding his arms, he held his head high and leveled an unflinching stare at the stampeding animals. The silent stance sent a very simple message: ‘No, you move.’

Against all odds, the horses scrambled to a screeching halt. They stopped mere inches away from the motionless man. Trembling and neighing, they backed away slowly. Between the silent figure standing in front of them and the raging flames approaching from behind, they chose the latter.

Soon, the girl’s mother came running. Tears flowed freely, as she pulled her darling daughter into a warm embrace. She couldn’t thank the armored stranger enough, but she still tried her very best. ...And got absolutely no response.

The Stick was already on the move again, marching towards the boats.

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Yumiko was locked in the fiercest battle of her life. She was staring up at a gigantic dragon. Its scales shone like steel, wings raged like a hurricane and tail trashed like an earthquake. A single swipe of its claws sent her crashing against the surrounding mountain range. Her lungs were on fire. Every single bone in her body was screaming.

And yet...

Despite everything, the warrior found herself enjoying this fatal feeling. Her mind was clear. The pain faded, as she sent herself soaring into another assault. There were no doubts about her duty or purpose. She was a blade aimed at a worthy foe. A content smile played on her features. Yes, this was where she belonged.

Finally, she had found a place where...

Where...

Where what?

Why was it getting so dark?

What... had she been... thinking about...?

Wrenched back to reality, the injured swordswoman suddenly coughed up a whole lungful of water. Her eyes flickered open weakly. The sunlight stung her nerves. “W-wha happun...?” She slurred, barely getting the breathless words out.

However, the zoan’s body refused to sit idle in a life or death situation. Adrenaline shot through her skull. Flashes of the past few seconds lit up her mind. She staggered back up, rubbing her bruised throat. Right, there was no dragon... But that man wasn’t far from such a monster.

Yumiko shook herself like an animal drying its fur. “Ship...” She muttered, before finding her voice again. “Did you manage to find a ship? I... I am not strong enough to hold off that man anymore.” It hurt to admit her weakness, but lying would’ve wounded her pride even worse. She looked around frantically, trying to find her bearings. Just where was their silent foe anyway?

Well...

Meanwhile, the armored menace marched ever closer. Nothing could stop him. ...Aside from one final obstacle in his path. He came to a sudden halt and directed a silent stare at a strange, jagged slope leading downwards. The stone slabs were arranged like a series of miniature cliffs. Forward, down, forward, down... It was built sharply and in total defiance of gravity. Some people knew this architectural masterstroke as... Stairs.

The Stick paced back and forth for several precious seconds. He occasionally stopped to watch people in white uniforms rush past him. However, the insidious contraption refused to reveal its secrets. Thus, his silent stare searched the surroundings... Until it found a regular ramp further down leading right into the water. He took off running.

Words: 419
Total: 5893 / 13 500

The soaked samurai watched with a mixture of confusion and worry, as the trio went to steal a ship. On one hand, she understood the urgency of the situation. They had to get out of here before things got even worse. Yet, on the other hand... These three were stealing a ship. She just couldn’t bring herself to approve of that.

Luckily, this decision wasn’t up to a vote.

And even if it had been, it would’ve probably ended four against one.

Yumiko stiffened and scoffed at the question. “Of course I can...” Her trembling legs buckled and she hit the pier face first. “...Walk.” The muffled response lost all dignity. Oh, how she hated sea water... A mere splash was enough to leave her weakened, let alone nearly drowning in it.

When the fellow swordswoman offered support, the proud warrior accepted it with utmost reluctance. “Truly, this is the height of humiliation...” Her cheeks were beginning to burn with scorching shame. Hopefully no one saw her like this.

With surprising stealth, the entire group got onto the ship tied to the very end of the docks. The vessel resembled the result of a drunken mistake between a paddle steamer and a caravel. Two masts with square-rigged sails jutted defiantly from the bow and center. A pair of smoke stacks sat at the back. It was a mail vessel, judging by the sacks in the cargo hold. And the garish, red color. This thing was visible in the horizon miles away.

Down in the engine room, a self-appointed narrator had seized the opportunity. “As you can see, in addition to the impressive sails, this ship also comes with a massive paddle engine. Very useful during those windless days, when you have to stay on schedule.” James patted the blackened engine. “However, while the engine is fast and powerful, the speed comes at the cost of fuel economy. This old model only gets about 100 nautical miles to-”

Jeremy pushed a shovel into his friend’s empty hands. “Oh, shut up and shovel, you plonker.” Mumbling something about a waste of bloody time, he channeled his frustrations into his own shovel. Coals began filling the hungry, metal maw.

Once a healthy fire roared in the furnace, Jeremy stopped to lean on his shovel. “I just had a thought.” His comment invited immediate snark. “Well, that’s a first. Planning to make it a habit?” Shooting a glare at his colleague, he held up a finger. “No, what I mean is...” He gestured at the filthy piles around them. “If we are both down here shoveling coal... Who’s driving?” It took a moment for the realization to sink in, before the two shovel boys shared a desperate look.

“...Hammooond!”

Meanwhile on the command bridge, the third stooge was giving the wheel a jolly spin. “No worries, lads and ladies. I see a path to freedom right beyond those ships. Now watch this!” He assured everyone who cared to listen. Unfortunately, his reckless maneuvering was putting the vessel in direct collision course with the nearest marine ship trying to block the escape...

Words: 517
Total: 6410 / 13 500