Chapter 1087: Despicable Us (1).
The sea was no longer just restless—it was alive with fire.
The fleet’s formation shuddered as explosions tore across the horizon, smoke clawing toward the sky. Cain moved like a storm across the flagship’s deck, his blade carving through armor and flesh alike. Bullets sparked against steel, ricocheting into the night as though the storm itself rejected them. His cloak, soaked through, clung to his frame, yet nothing slowed him.
Susan forced her battered body forward, dragging herself toward the rail of their smaller vessel. Her knuckles were white around the comm. "Steve! Report!"
Static shrieked, then Steve’s voice broke through. "Propulsion hit confirmed. Flagship’s alignment is off, but they’re rerouting power. If Cain doesn’t take out that cannon now, it won’t matter."
Her chest heaved with the effort of breathing. She could almost laugh at the futility of it—her ribs cracked, her blood leaking into the storm, yet still she demanded reports as if any of this could be solved with information.
Cain cut down the last soldier between him and the glowing maw of the cannon. The weapon hummed with terrifying energy, its charge painting the storm with a sickly light. He could feel it in his bones, the vibration of a weapon designed not to destroy ships, but to erase cities.
"Cain!" Susan’s voice reached him through wind and chaos. "Do it now!"
He leapt, closing the distance in a blur. His blade came down, meeting the armored plating that shielded the cannon’s core. Sparks flew, steel screamed, and for the first time that night, resistance met his strike. The blade held steady, biting deeper, but the weapon’s armor was built to withstand everything man could throw at it.
Cain bared his teeth. "I am not man."
With a roar, he drove his weight behind the blade. Lightning split the sky as steel gave way, sparks bursting outward like stars flung into the storm. The weapon howled, its charge faltering, then detonating in a blast of light and thunder that tore through the deck.
Cain was thrown backward, his body crashing into twisted metal. For a moment, silence swallowed the world. Then came the shockwave.
The flagship shuddered, flames erupting along its spine. Susan clung to the railing of her vessel, teeth gritted against the force that threatened to hurl her into the sea. The storm itself seemed to recoil, waves breaking violently against the steel behemoths.
"Cain!" she screamed into the comm, but there was no answer.
Steve’s voice was sharp, urgent. "The cannon’s offline, but the fleet’s not broken. They’re regrouping—every gun they’ve got is about to turn on him."
Through smoke and fire, Cain staggered upright. His cloak was torn, his face streaked with blood, but his eyes burned hotter than the flames consuming the flagship. He pulled his blade free from the wreckage, the steel still glowing faintly with the heat of what it had cut through.
Dozens of soldiers swarmed the deck, their weapons trained on him. Cain rolled his shoulders, raised his sword, and whispered into the storm, "Come, then."
The battle ignited anew. Gunfire tore the air as Cain surged forward, a blur of steel and fury. He moved faster than their eyes could track, his strikes deliberate, merciless. Every body that fell was another message carved into the night: the sea would not yield to tyrants.
Susan, struggling to reload a salvaged rifle, watched through the smoke. Her vision swam, but she refused to collapse. If Cain was going to burn himself alive in this war, she would at least burn beside him.
"Steve," she rasped. "Divert what you can. Engines, comms, everything. If Cain’s going down, we’re taking as many of them with us as possible."
Steve hesitated. "Susan—"
"Do it."
The smaller vessel roared as its engines flared, pushing forward into the heart of the fleet. Spotlights snapped onto them instantly, and Susan felt the cold certainty of death tighten around her ribs. She spat blood, raised the rifle, and fired anyway.
Cain cut through the last of the soldiers on deck just as the flagship groaned, metal screaming under the weight of its wounds. Fires spread unchecked, and still the other ships closed in, their cannons pivoting toward him.
He lifted his head, meeting the gaze of those faceless guns. His blade rose with him, defiant, unshaken. "Fortresses fall."
The sea answered, waves rising like walls around the burning fleet. Lightning split the sky again, reflecting in Cain’s eyes as he prepared for the storm to truly begin.
The guns fired.
The night split open, thunder drowning thunder as artillery shells carved fire across the sky. Cain braced, the deck beneath him trembling with every impact. He could taste the iron tang of blood and salt on his tongue, hear the sea roaring as though it too raged against the invasion of steel.
Susan’s vessel plunged forward, cutting through waves like a blade. She fired wildly, each shot a defiance hurled into the maw of giants. Pain radiated through her body with every recoil, but she refused to stop. If her ribs shattered entirely, if her hands broke, she would still fire.
"Cain!" she screamed over the comm, her voice ragged. "You’re not dying alone on that deck. You hear me?"
Cain didn’t answer. He couldn’t. The fleet had surrounded him, dozens of soldiers pouring from the hatches, rifles barking fire in unison. He met them head-on, blade flashing arcs of silver through the storm. The first fell, then the second, then three more in a single breath. He fought not with desperation, but with inevitability, every strike driven by something larger than himself.
Steve’s voice rose frantic over the channel. "You’ve got more ships converging. Cain, there’s too many! Susan, pull him out—before—"
Static swallowed the rest.
A shell struck the water meters from Susan’s vessel, a geyser of flame and sea engulfing her in its shadow. She held the wheel steady, coughing blood as she shouted into the storm. "I’m not pulling out! Not while he’s still standing!"
On the flagship’s burning deck, Cain lifted his blade high, flames licking at his torn cloak. Rain hammered down, hissing against fire, steam rising like ghosts around him. His voice carried through the chaos, low and certain:
"Let the sea judge us all."