Chapter 5: Two sides
The air was heavy. Every soldier stood still. Stunned, uncertain. Yet Arisa remained. Her posture relaxed, hands now behind her back, eyes cold and unreadable.
"Oh?" she said with a quiet smirk, voice smooth and nearly playful. "So you do recognize the name."
A murmur rippled through the ranks. It wasn't her tone that chilled them. It was the weight of her presence. Something about her made the soldiers uneasy. Like staring at a still blade… knowing it could swing at any moment.
Sakarame. That name wasn't just old history, it was a legend soaked in fire and blood. Everyone in the D.O.P., even the newest recruits, knew some version of it. Some thought it myth. Others knew better.
Without warning, Arisa raised her hands in front of her. A soldier flinched his instincts, betraying him as fire erupted from his palms.
Arisa didn't even blink.
She slowly rolled her wrist with one hand, eyes drifting lazily across the group. "If I wanted to do something," she said coolly, "you wouldn't be standing here wondering about it."
Her voice was calm. Not cocky. Not angry. Just… honest.
The commander stepped forward. He didn't react to the flare of flame, he simply gave the soldier a sharp glare. The fire vanished.
He studied Arisa with a narrowed gaze. "Same hair. Same eyes," he muttered. "That's why they scrubbed your file… You're supposed to be dead."
Arisa met his eyes but said nothing for a beat. Then, her voice landed like a quiet knife. "I'm not. And I'm not here to explain anything… Commander Ron, if I'm not mistaken?"
Ron gave a small smirk. "The one and only."
That small moment of quiet was shattered by another voice tense, agitated. "If she really is who she says, that's even more reason to kill her. After what happened with the Sakarame, how do we know she won't snap?"
The words stirred others. Another soldier added, "She doesn't even have an awakening. She's just bluffing."
Arisa turned her head slightly. Her purple eyes dimmed, voice like venom wrapped in silk. "You already screwed up letting me on this ship…"
Her tone dropped.
"You have nowhere to run."
A wave of dread passed through the crew. The ship was now far from any land. Adrift in the deepest stretch of lake, nothing but endless blue in every direction.
"And I know," she added, tilting her head slightly, "you only have two navigators."
A silence fell. One man in the back was already sweating, stepping subtly away from the group, his hands shaking. Navigator. Caught.
Ron's face tightened. "I should beat both your asses," he snapped at the soldiers. "Years under my command and you still don't get how I operate?"
He turned toward the crew.
"We find out the last Sakarame is alive, and your first thought is kill?" His tone was sharp, disgusted. "She hasn't made a move. Not one. And yeah maybe she hasn't awakened."
He looked at Arisa again.
"But she's still Aika's daughter. Angel's blood. I see it in her eyes."
He turned back to his men.
"She doesn't need an awakening to kill you."
The silence was loud now. Ron gestured wide. "And let's not forget we're carrying one of the Twelve Candidates for Ruler. That means she's on our side. For now."
He turned back to Arisa again. "As long as she doesn't start anything, neither will we. Let's all go home alive."
Arisa didn't respond at first. She simply watched him, eyes still and unreadable. Then, with a turn of her heel, she walked away from the group. Returning to the ship's ledge. Her arms rested gently on the railing as she looked out at the vast ocean.
And that was it. No more words.
Just the sound of the water.
The soldiers stood frozen, glancing at one another as if waiting for someone to break the tension. Until Ron's voice cut through it like a knife.
"Alright, introductions are over! What are we standing around for? Back to work!" he barked, his voice sharp and commanding.
He pointed to a nearby soldier. "You. Take Arisa's bags to her room."
With that, the crew stirred into motion. Some resumed cleaning the deck, others began prepping equipment or assisting the navigators. Routine returned, but unease lingered in the air. Arisa, however, hadn't moved. She remained by the ship's railing, her gaze fixed on the distant horizon, unreadable.
Ron approached, not as a commander, but as a man. He didn't stand directly beside her, giving her space, but leaned on the same railing a few feet away. The ocean breeze tugged gently at their clothes, the smell of salt in the air. For a long moment, neither spoke.
"You know," Ron finally said, his voice quieter now, more thoughtful, "if the government didn't put your real information on file… that means they wanted you hidden. Kept off the record. I'm sure they had you sign a contract. But…" he let out a faint scoff, "you just broke it."
Arisa gave no reply. Her eyes stayed fixed ahead, distant, as if watching something no one else could see. Ron turned slightly, taking in her profile. Those purple eyes, glinting like shards of amethyst beneath her lashes, were locked in thought. There was a haunting calm in her face. A stillness far older than her years.
"But you don't seem to care," Ron continued. "You walked right onto this ship and made sure every soul here knew your name. You don't fear us… seems like you want to be seen."
Just then, the ship began to approach a towering structure. From a distance, it looked like part of the landscape. A natural arch formed by the lush hill it rose from. But as they neared, mechanical seams shimmered into view. The bridge began to lift, revealing an opening beneath. Water from the overhang trickled down like rain as the vessel slowly passed through. The fresh lake water gave way to the deep blue of the open sea.
Arisa tilted her head upward, eyes following the intricate movement of the bridge. For the first time, a flicker of something human softened her features. Wonder. It wasn't much, but Ron noticed it. In a world that had taken so much from her, it surprised him to see she could still find beauty in it. In that moment, he respected her more than he could put into words.
As the ship cleared the underpass and the bridge sealed behind them, Arisa turned, resting her back against the railing, now facing the deck. The sunlight returned in full, bathing her in gold.
Ron kept his gaze on the water, but his voice turned more personal, almost heavy.
"…Not all of us agreed with what happened," he said. "What those bastards at the branch did. The higher ups who greenlit that massacre… that wasn't on everyone. Some of us wanted no part in it."
He exhaled slowly. "I'm glad your clan still lives on. And I'm glad you're still alive."
Arisa turned to him at last, her eyes meeting his. He faltered for a split second under her gaze. There was something piercing about it,like her eyes didn't just see him, but measured him. A quiet, devastating intellect behind them. Like her mother.
She stared for a moment. Then, softly.
"What's your real name?"
He blinked. "Ronnie Diamond."
Arisa nodded slowly and looked away, back toward the sea. "…I'll remember that."
They said nothing more. For a long stretch, they stood side by side in silence, two strangers, bound not by trust, but by the quiet weight of the past and the unspoken understanding that the world, somehow, had changed the moment she stepped aboard.
The ship continued to drift steadily into the open ocean, carrying them deeper into what none of them could yet see, a new chapter of history waiting to be written.
[[Time: Afternoon]]
[[Location: Northern Sea]]
The mood on the ship had shifted from tense to electric. Laughter and shouts rippled across the deck, cutting through the rhythmic creak of wood and the faint crash of waves against the hull. While some soldiers scrubbed down the rails and checked supplies, a knot of men had gathered near the starboard side, shoulder to shoulder, their voices rising in unison as they cheered.
In the middle of the circle sat Arisa, her back straight, her expression unreadable. Her right arm was locked with that of a broad shouldered man whose forearms were thick with muscle, veins bulging like ropes under his skin. His face was flushed crimson with effort, teeth clenched as he strained to force her hand down.
Arisa, on the other hand, barely looked like she was trying.
"I thought you were the strongest here," she said with the faintest smirk, her tone light but carrying that edge that made a few men chuckle and others glance at each other warily.
With a guttural grunt, the man shifted his weight, pushing hard enough to move her arm a fraction toward the deck. His eyes lit up for half a second. Right before Arisa's wrist rolled effortlessly, turning the tide in one fluid motion. With a sharp thud, she slammed his hand into the table.
A roar went up from the crowd.
At the back, two men exchanged crumpled bills. One pocketing his winnings with a wide grin, the other grumbling under his breath as he slapped the money down.
The man across from Arisa let out a breathless laugh, rubbing his wrist. "Damn, you're strong as hell, girl. I thought those test scores were exaggerated."
Arisa chuckled, leaning back slightly in her seat. "I'm not here for nothing."
He smirked, clearly impressed, and extended his hand. She accepted without hesitation, their grip firm. "I'll be following your journey," he said with a nod that carried the weight of respect.
The crowd shifted as Commander Ronnie pushed through, his presence quieting the noise without a single order. "Alright, Arisa," he said, his tone more measured than usual. "We're about to hit a dangerous stretch of ocean. For your safety, I'll show you to your room."
Arisa's eyes slid toward him, her expression sharpening just enough to hint at annoyance. "I'll be fine here," she replied evenly.
Before Ronnie could respond, the man she'd just defeated leaned in. "No.. Leave the hard part to us. Our job is to keep you safe."
"Yeah," another voice chimed in from the crowd, "we'd rather you be below deck before we reach the Dead Sea."
The words hung for a moment. For all their teasing and betting, there was something genuine in their voices, like she'd earned their trust faster than anyone expected.
Arisa's brow lifted slightly, eyes flicking between the men before landing back on Ronnie. "And if I refuse?" she asked, her tone firm, almost testing him.
"Then you stay up here with us," Ronnie said, meeting her gaze without flinching. "But I'd rather nothing happen to you… so if you would, please."
He extended his hand, not a command this time, but an offer. Arisa stared at it for a beat before letting out a quiet sigh. She accepted, her fingers brushing his as he helped her rise from the chair.
"Alright, boys," Ronnie called out as they moved toward the steps, his voice snapping the deck back to order, "you know the drill. We made it here together, we leave together."
The soldiers broke their circle, their easy laughter fading as they turned back to work. Ropes coiled, sails checked, weapons inspected. Somewhere beyond the ship's railing, the northern sea stretched wide and endless, the horizon hiding whatever waited for them at the edge of the Dead Sea.
Ronnie made his way ahead, guiding Arisa as the muffled sounds of the soldiers' preparations faded behind them. The narrow stairwell creaked faintly under their steps, the wood worn smooth from years of use. A faint scent of saltwater and aged timber lingered in the air, mixing with the deeper, metallic tang of oil and machinery somewhere further below.
Lanterns swayed gently from the low ceiling, casting amber light that danced across the walls. Shadows clung to the corners, and the air felt heavier here. Cooler, quieter, yet alive with the subtle thrum of the ship's heart. The low hum of the engines reverberated through the floorboards, a steady reminder of the vessel's power.
"So, is it true that you're eighteen?" Ronnie asked, breaking the quiet, his tone casual but laced with curiosity.
"Yeah. Too young for you," Arisa replied without missing a beat, her lips twitching with the faintest hint of a smirk.
Ronnie let out a short laugh, the sound echoing lightly off the narrow walls. "I would never," he said with mock offense before his voice softened. "Just curious if it was true or not. Your looks and personality are beyond your age." His words carried a tone of respect, though his eyes stayed ahead, watching for the next turn.
"And is that a good or bad thing?" Arisa asked, still carrying that teasing edge.
"Don't know…" Ronnie admitted, his voice growing more thoughtful as the corridor narrowed. "After what you went through, one would think you'd be out to take the world for what it did to you. Instead, here you are. Making your way as a candidate for ruler. You seem to be fine with us. You've already made an impact on my men, and I admit… even I respect you a bit more in the small time we've been here. And you're just eighteen."
He slowed as they approached a thick, iron banded door at the end of the hall. Its hinges darkened with age but still solid. He glanced back at her, a faint smile tugging at his mouth.
"I'd say that's a good thing."
He gestured ahead, his palm open toward a narrow wooden door set into the steel bulkhead. "This is your room."
Arisa stepped forward, her boots echoing faintly against the metal floor. The air here was cooler, carrying a faint tang of saltwater and engine oil. Overhead, thick pipes ran along the low ceiling, occasionally dripping from the lingering condensation of the sea air. The light was dim, a single swinging lantern casting long shadows that swayed with the ship's motion.
Before she could grasp the latch, Ronnie reached past her, fingers curling around the worn brass knob. With a quiet creak, he turned it and pulled the door open for her. A small gesture, but one that spoke of an old world courtesy uncommon among soldiers.
Arisa's gaze didn't leave his face. Her voice, stripped of the teasing lilt she'd used earlier, carried a calm sharpness.
"I've looked into the eyes of people who wear your very uniform," she said, her words low but steady. "I've seen the worst in them. You and your men… you're not those types of people. So I have no need to be hostile with you… unless you have something you're hiding."
Her icy purple eyes locked on his, and in that close, dim corridor, the intensity of her stare felt almost physical. Ronnie held her gaze for a heartbeat too long, the flickering lantern light catching in her irises like shards of violet glass. He found himself fighting the urge to look away.
"Of course not, Arisa," he said finally, his voice steady but quieter now. "Besides… if we did, I have a feeling you'd have figured it out by now."
The sound of waves crashing against the hull grew louder down here, a rhythmic thud of water and wood that filled the small space. Ronnie gave her a short nod.
"Alright, Arisa… forgive me, but I'll have to ask you to stay here until we advise otherwise." His tone was respectful, but there was a firmness to it, a commander's habit of making sure his orders stuck.
Arisa had already wandered a few steps in, eyes sweeping over the cabin like she was inspecting it for hidden flaws.
"Couldn't have picked a better room," she remarked, her voice casual as she reached out and tapped the small lantern hanging by the wall. It swayed gently, casting rippling light across the wooden walls as the boat rocked.
Ronnie leaned against the doorframe, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.
"Only better room is mine," he replied. "And we both know I can't let you have that one."
"Fair enough," Arisa said simply, giving him a half smile before turning her attention back to the swaying lantern.
Ronnie hesitated for a heartbeat, long enough to take in the calm way she carried herself despite everything. And then he stepped back. The door closed with a soft click, leaving Arisa in the quiet creak of the ship's timbers and the steady lull of the sea outside.
—-
The ship pressed on, its hull groaning as it cut through the waves. The air began to change. Not in temperature, but in weight. It pressed against the skin, thick and heavy, carrying with it a strange tang of salt and something else… metallic.
Seabirds that had been circling overhead turned back toward the distant shore, their cries fading until there was only the sound of water and the low hum of the ship's engines. Even the wind seemed to grow cautious, slowing to a whisper that barely stirred the sails.
The men who had been laughing moments ago now worked in sharper, quieter motions. Tools were put away. Loose ropes tied down. Their voices, when they spoke at all, were hushed as if the ocean itself was listening.
From the bow, a jagged black line began to rise on the horizon. It wasn't land, not in the way normal land looked. The shores of the Dead Sea were fractured cliffs of volcanic stone, their edges chewed jagged by centuries of relentless waves. Beyond them, the water darkened into an impossible shade of blue, so deep it looked almost black.
A few soldiers risked glances toward the stretch of sea ahead, their expressions tightening. Stories of the Dead Sea were easy to dismiss on land, but here… the truth in them was hard to ignore. Ships that entered without proper course vanished without a trace. Currents that shifted without warning could pull even the largest vessel into the deep.
And then there was the silence.
No gulls. No fish breaking the surface. No sign of life at all.
Ronnie burst back onto the deck, his boots thudding against wet planks as the sea raged like a living beast around them. The Dead Sea was no ordinary ocean. It moved like a predator, its waves not rolling but lunging, smashing against the hull with deafening force. Spray lashed across the soldiers' faces, stinging like needles as the ship groaned and pitched.
"Hold the starboard line! Reinforce the sails NOW!" Ronnie's voice cut through the chaos like steel, but even he had to brace himself against the railing as another wall of black water slammed across the deck.
The men moved in frantic unison, yet there was something almost ritualistic in their motions, ropes flying through hands, sails heaving, shoulders straining together to keep the vessel from splintering apart. Each soldier's expression was the same, a mixture of dread and raw determination, like ants struggling to guide a massive beast through a storm it had no business surviving.
Above them, the sky had gone nearly void black, lit only by streaks of lightning that illuminated the monstrous crests of waves as if revealing the teeth of some colossal sea god. Every crash of thunder shook their bones, reminding them how small they truly were.
Still, Ronnie never faltered. His commands carried a steadiness that bound the men together, and in that chaos, discipline was the only rope keeping them from falling into madness.
—-
Far below the chaos, Arisa's quarters were swallowed in an eerie half silence, the ocean's violence reduced to muffled booms against the walls. She had finished pacing, her sharp eyes scanning every corner of the room as if hunting for hidden cracks. Finding nothing out of place, she moved to the small circular window.
From her vantage, the Dead Sea unveiled itself in all its nightmare glory. Waves stretching like shadowed mountains, their crests snapping white under flashes of stormlight. The water seemed alive, almost conscious, twisting and contorting against the ship like it wanted to swallow it whole.
To anyone else, the sight would have been paralyzing. Terror would've crawled up the spine, breath caught in the chest, as if staring into the maw of a living abyss. The windows rattled with each crash, as if the sea itself was knocking, demanding entry.
But Arisa didn't flinch. Not once.
With a quiet exhale, she shrugged off her jacket, then her shirt, leaving only the black sports bra tight across her frame. The dim lantern light revealed the truth most dared not imagine, her body was a canvas of curse marks. They spread across her arms, chest, and torso like twisted constellations, etched in patterns of agony. And within those marks… faces. Decaying, distorted bodies frozen mid scream, their forms half embedded into her very skin.
It was grotesque, horrifying, and yet there was a cruel beauty in the sight, as if she carried an entire graveyard of souls with her wherever she walked.
She cleared the small floor space, lowered herself into a meditative position, and shut her eyes. Outside, the storm sought to tear the world apart. Inside, she sat still, as if she herself were the calm within the chaos. Her breathing slowed, till it was steady.
[[Time: Evening]]
[[Location: Lower Deck]]
The lower decks were dim, lit only by swaying lanterns that groaned with every tilt of the ship. A single set of footsteps echoed down the narrow hall, slow and deliberate. The soldier who used a fire awakening walked with his head slightly bowed, eyes shadowed. One hand brushing the wall as though to steady himself. Or to keep from drifting into madness.
His jaw twitched, muttering words tumbling past his lips in a rhythm not meant for anyone else to hear.
"She'll tear us apart… one by one… doesn't matter what they say… it's her or us… her or us…"
Sweat gleamed across his brow though the air was cold, his eyes burning with that feverish glow that no longer felt entirely sane. His conviction had passed into obsession.
Each step was heavy, dragging, yet determined, carrying him closer and closer toward Arisa's door. The glow of the lantern made his shadow stretch long and crooked against the wall, like some twisted specter leading the way.
By the time he reached the door, his hand hovered just above the handle, fingers twitching with restrained flame. He was no longer muttering. His silence said enough, the decision was made.
The door creaked open with the faintest groan of old wood. For a moment, the man stood motionless in the doorway, listening, waiting for even the slightest reaction. But the room was silent. Heavy. The only sound was the muffled roar of waves outside, shaking the hull like a heartbeat.
He slipped inside, his steps precise, careful. His eyes swept the dim cabin until they landed on her. Arisa sat perfectly still in the center of the floor, legs folded, hands resting lightly on her knees. Her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling in a rhythm that spoke of deep, unshaken focus.
His gaze shifted to the curse marks sprawled across her body, Dark, writhing patterns etched like rotting veins, corpses frozen in their climb along her arms and chest. The sight made bile rise in his throat.
Heat flared suddenly. A glow filled the room as fire roared to life in his palm, casting harsh light over her closed lids and sharpening the shadows on her face. The flames licked at his skin, eager and alive, reflecting in the dark windows behind her.
"You won't fool me," he muttered, voice raw, conviction tipping into mania. "It's you… or us."
He raised the fire, arm trembling.
Arisa's eyes snapped open.
The violet glow in her irises cut through him like a blade. Her gaze locked to his with such ferocity that his breath hitched, his hand quivering despite himself.
"Don't be a dumbass," she said flatly. Her tone was ice. Deadly.
His chest heaved, sweat running down his temple. He fought with himself, teetering on the edge of action, but the longer he stared into her eyes, the more the fire in his palm grew .
—-
Up above, the storm still raged. Waves slammed into the hull with bone shaking force as the soldiers strained against the Dead Sea's fury. Ronnie stood braced at the prow, boots planted firm, barking orders over the storm.
"Hold her steady!" he roared. "Let's go, boys! We're almost through!"
The men pushed harder, ropes creaking as sails groaned, their muscles burning with effort. His words gave them strength, pulling unity from chaos.
Then.
A deafening boom.
The ship lurched violently to the left, nearly pitching men into the waves. Smoke and splinters erupted from the lower decks, a gash tearing through the hull.
"Report!" Ronnie shouted, whipping around.
A soldier scrambled up from below, panic in his voice. "Sir! Sudden damage, lower left side, between rooms 205 and 206!"
Ronnie's stomach dropped. His eyes widened. He didn't need a map to know who was in that section.
Arisa.
—-
Half the cabin was gone, torn wide open to the nightmarish sea. Wind screamed through the hole, tearing at everything not bolted down. Sheets flailed like banners. The bed frame dangled by a bent support beam, groaning against the pull of gravity.
And in the chaos stood Arisa.
Her hair whipped wildly around her face, but her gaze never wavered. One cheek was stripped down to bone, part of her forehead seared to raw muscle. Flesh blackened and split, blood spilling down until it shifted, darkened, and knit itself back together. Bone, sinew, and skin crawling back into place with horrifying speed.
In her outstretched hand, a soldier kicked and clawed, his face red as her grip crushed his windpipe. He dangled out into the storm, the churning ocean screaming below. His fingers clutched desperately at her arm, but she held him like he weighed nothing.
He tried to croak, but the words died in his throat.
Her eyes burned, her jaw set tight. For a moment, it seemed she would end him.
Until.
The door burst open. Another soldier stumbled inside, rifle in hand. His eyes widened in horror at the sight before him. His friend dangling helpless in Arisa's grip. Instinct drowned reason. He raised his weapon and fired.
The crack of the gunshot filled the room.
The bullet tore through her shoulder, ripping clean out through her ribs. Arisa gasped, her body jerking back. The man in her grip slipped free, his scream cutting the air as he plummeted into the hungry sea below.
"Fuck!" Arisa's roar was guttural, raw, equal parts pain and fury.
Her hand clamped against her wound, blood hot between her fingers, but her eyes flared with wrath. She whirled on the shooter, who stood frozen in regret, rifle trembling in his hands.
She didn't hesitate.
Her hand seized the dangling bedframe and hurled it across the room. It slammed into him with brutal force, crushing him against the wall with a sickening crunch. His scream was cut short as the bed pinned him like an insect.
Arisa's boots echoed sharp against the floor as she stalked toward him. His muffled grunts grew frantic, but she didn't pause. Her leg shot up, and with a savage kick she split the bed in two, the impact exploding through the door and blasting his body into the corridor beyond. He crumpled into unconsciousness.
Her chest heaved, violet light burning in her eyes as she stepped into the hall.
Seven soldiers froze mid stride, staring. Their eyes darted from her blood streaked form to the limp body on the ground.
One of them screamed in rage, slashing his hand through the air. A cyclone of wind exploded to life around him before he hurled it down the corridor.
Arisa's body blurred. She snatched the unconscious man by the collar and swung him into the blast, his limp form absorbing the force before flinging violently past her. She sidestepped, the wind whistling past, her hair whipping with the gust.
In the same motion, she dashed forward.
Her speed was monstrous, one heartbeat she was ten paces away, the next she was upon him. He barely had time to summon wind around his fist before she clamped her hand onto his arm.
Bones cracked under her grip. His power sputtered out.
In one smooth, brutal motion, she swung his body over her shoulder. The world seemed to pause before he slammed through the wall, plaster and wood exploding as his body disappeared into the room beyond.
She turned her back to the others.
Another soldier lunged, fist cocked for the back of her head.
She stepped aside. A whisper of movement. He overextended.
Her elbow snapped back into his skull with a crunch like snapping wood. His body twisted grotesquely, flipping forward before skidding across the floor, unconscious before he even stopped moving.
And still Arisa's eyes glowed, cold, merciless, as she looked upon the next.
The corridor felt smaller now, as if the air itself recoiled from the violence. Dust floated in the lantern light, smoke still seeping in from the gaping wound in the ship's hull. The soldiers tightened their stances, every one of them aware that hesitation meant death.
Five remained.
They spread out, weapons raised, their boots thudding against the floor as they advanced in cautious unison.
Arisa didn't move.
Her chest rose and fell steadily, her wounds already knitting themselves back together, black veins crawling over torn muscle as bone sealed beneath her skin. Her eyes glowed with cold violet light.
Then, she stepped forward.
Just once.
That single movement sent a ripple of fear through them, though they tried to hold their ground.
The first man shouted, breaking the silence as he thrust his arm forward. Flame erupted from his palm, roaring down the corridor in a blinding wave.
Arisa didn't flinch.
She surged straight into the fire, her skin blistering, hair singed, but her stride never breaking. Before the man could recoil, her fist drove into his chest like a hammer. The crack of bone echoed as his body slammed against the wall, his fire sputtering into smoke as he collapsed, unconscious.
The others froze.
"Don't stop! Hit her together!" one barked, desperation seeping into his voice.
Two moved at once, one forming jagged shards of stone that tore up from the floor, the other sending a whip of crackling electricity snapping toward her.
Arisa pivoted sharply. The stone shards erupted at her side, missing by inches. The electric whip lashed across her back, tearing into her skin and flooding her with jolts that would have paralyzed any normal body.
She turned her head slowly, eyes burning. The wound sizzled black, her flesh regenerating as the sparks died out.
Then she vanished forward.
She closed the distance in an instant, appearing before the man with the whip of lightning still in his hand. Her palm clamped over his face, and with terrifying strength she drove him backward into the wall. The wood splintered, then caved, his scream muffled under her grip before he went limp. She let him fall, like dropping trash.
The man with the stone shards backed up, his hands trembling as he tried to summon more. "S-Stay back!" he stammered, his voice cracking.
Arisa's glare silenced him. He lifted his arms higher, but his hesitation cost him everything.
She lunged, her foot snapping up in a brutal side kick. It crashed into his chest, shattering ribs and hurling him back. Dust scattered in the hall as his body skidded across the ground, unconscious before he stopped.
Two remained.
They exchanged panicked looks then both charged at once.
One swung a blade, its steel shimmering with a blue flaming aura. The other lunged with brute force, fists clenched, every muscle straining.
Arisa twisted past the blade, the edge grazing her arm but drawing no reaction. Her other hand shot forward, catching the brute's punch mid swing. The force rattled the floorboards, but she held him there, his knuckles cracking under her grip.
The swordsman swung again, aiming for her neck.
Arisa pulled the brute into the blade's path.
The steel bit deep into his side, his scream filling the corridor. Shock paralyzed the swordsman for a fatal moment.
Arisa capitalized without hesitation. She hurled the bleeding brute into his comrade, their bodies colliding and tumbling across the floor. Before they could recover, she was upon them, her boot slamming down on the swordsman's wrist, snapping it with a sickening crunch. His blade clattered away.
Her fist came down once, sharp and precise, to the brute's temple. His eyes rolled back, body going limp instantly.
The last man lay writhing beneath her, clutching his shattered wrist, terror flooding his eyes as he looked up at her.
Arisa crouched down, her face inches from his. The glow in her eyes reflected in his.
"Run."
She released him, standing tall as he scrambled to his feet and bolted down the corridor, stumbling over the bodies of his comrades. His footsteps faded into the chaos above deck, leaving only the sound of waves crashing against the ship and the heavy silence of the fallen.
Arisa stood alone, her chest rising with steady, measured breaths. Blood dripped from her wounds, but already her flesh was stitching itself back together, the curse marks crawling dark and alive across her body.
The corridor lay in ruins, walls cracked, dust thick in the air, soldiers groaning faintly in broken heaps.
And through it all, Arisa's gaze remained cold.
—-
The storm above seemed to mirror the chaos below. Ronnie pushed his way across the slick deck, his boots pounding against the planks as shouts of his men rose over the roar of the sea. He'd been expecting reports from the lower decks but silence had greeted him instead. A silence that gnawed at him.
"Don't move from your post!" he barked, his voice cutting through the storm as his soldiers strained against ropes and sails, fighting to keep the massive ship steady as it clawed its way out of the Dead Sea. Every man knew. One slip, one mistake, and the ocean would swallow them whole.
Before Ronnie could descend the stairwell, the sound of splintering wood erupted. A soldier came hurtling out of the shadows at terrifying speed, his body flung like a rag doll. Ronnie's instincts twitched to catch him, but the sheer force was too great. He sidestepped just in time, watching the soldier smash into the railing with a sickening crack before his limp body was pitched screaming into the waves. The sea silenced him in an instant.
Ronnie froze, rage flickering beneath the shock. He knew who had done this. He didn't even need to see her, the weight in the air told him enough.
From the darkened stairwell, Arisa emerged. Slowly. Calmly. Each step deliberate, her soaked boots echoing against the deck. Her presence pressed on the chest of every man still working, their movements faltering as their eyes turned toward her. Hours ago, she'd been laughing among them.
"Stay at your stations," Ronnie ordered sharply, never breaking his gaze from her. "I'll deal with her."
The rain began to pour in earnest, cascading over the deck, soaking into every scar and rope. Arisa walked into it unflinching, her skin slick with water, her curse marks winding up her arms like living shadows. Her hair clung to her face, but her eyes, those icy, violet eyes. Glowed through the curtain of rain.
She stopped a few meters away. For a heartbeat, there was only the sound of the storm. Then, softly, with venom behind every syllable.
"You played me… I trusted you."
Her voice was low, almost a whisper, yet it cut deeper than any scream. The soldiers working nearby froze. The betrayal in her tone sent a chill through the air colder than the rain itself.
Ronnie held her gaze, his jaw tight, his scars glistening as he tore off his shirt and let the storm bite into his skin. Every scar across his chest and arms was a story, a testament to survival, to the wars he had endured. He squared his shoulders and met her glare without flinching.
"I should be saying the same."
The rain hammered harder, running down their bodies as the distance between them seemed to collapse. The soldiers looked on in stunned silence, caught between fear and awe. They had no orders now.
Arisa. Ronnie. Trust shattered. Fury rising. As the ship creaked beneath them.
Chapter 5: Two Sides
END