Captain Roswell held Azdin in his grip like a ragdoll, his iron tight hand locked around his throat. Snapping his neck and throwing him overboard would be easy.. but now he was starting to have other ideas. Now having calmed down a little, he couldn't help himself but get a little creative.
'Should I save him for later to torture him first... Or maybe I should let him recover, then watch him struggle to fight something in the water instead..'
'Decisions, decisions...'
As he pondered this question though, something changed in the air. An enormous shift big enough that even he was able to pick up on it somehow.
Then, the light above him dimmed
It was like a passing shadow at first, the kind cast by drifting clouds. But he could've sworn that a few moments ago, the sky was completely clear. He of all people would know as dealing with the weather was an area of expertise required to sail a ship such as this.
So when he looked up, he was prepared to see a creature of some kind, one big enough to blot out the sun, or maybe even a flock of them. If either of those has appeared though they might've been in trouble.
But somehow, it was neither of those things.
Roswell's brow furrowed, his focus breaking for the briefest moment as the world around him seemed to exhale into dusk. It wasn't just him that reacted too though, everyone that was fighting abroad the ship suddenly paused. All looking up at the sky both in confusion, and fear alike.
And they all witnessed the same, eerie sight.
Countless black feathers spiraled down from above, twisting and dancing in the wind like ash from a great unseen fire. They fell in near endless number, blotting out the sun in fragments, their shadows flickering across the ship like dark omens.
One feather brushed across his cheek, another caught in Azdin's hair, and many more swarmed down as they brushed against every surface and passenger, both friend and foe alike.
And then, from somewhere beyond the veil of falling black, something moved. He could hear the sound of a bird flapping amongst the rain of feathers, stirring them and causing them to scatter even more.
Discerning where it was, and what it even is was difficult, but if he had uninterrupted time he was sure he could figure those things out. But before he could, he heard the sound of wood creaking just behind him. Slowly, almost reluctantly, he turned to face it.
Just behind him, Hugo was rising once more.
Well, barely rising. His body trembled with effort as he dragged himself upward, one foot planting hard against the ground, while the other lagged behind. In the end, he could barely stand on one leg.
And yet, he did not fall.
He spoke, his voice filled with an uncanny amount of clarity.
"Get your hand off him."
Looking down upon his pathetic state, Roswell simply scoffed.
'I don't have the time to deal with him right now, he's already dead.'
Blood trickled from the wound along his head, staining his black hair slightly red. A straight blow right there should've ended his life, so how he still stood remained a mystery. Either way, he'd die sooner rather than later.
But when he looked at him in the eyes, there he saw something similar to what he himself had once felt. A firm resolve that wouldn't back down in the face of adversity easily.
But even though he had held those feelings once, that didn't stop him from stooping down to where he was today. So for Hugo to have that same look, didn't change all that much. His will could still be broken. He would be broken.
Once more in that same focused voice he demanded, now even more threatening,
"I said get your hand off my friend. Or I'll tear it off my self."
Chuckling, Roswell replied,
"I know your young, but don't you think your pushing yourself too much? Just lay down and die there, I have a bigger issue to take care of right now."
He couldn't even stand on two feet, and he was struggling to even hold onto his sword. For now, this strange phenomena was the priority.
None of his men seemed to be harmed atleast. Mostly everyone had stopped fighting, as the only ones still going at it was that Awakened women and his two men.
They seemed to be holding their own, but he could tell at once they would lose. This hail of feathers seemed to have distracted them for a moment too, making them lose their numbers advantage.
As he prepared to go deal with it though, he heard Hugo mutter just under his breath.
"Your funeral."
And then, he was gone. It was as if he had vanished without a trace, leaving behind only the endless rain of feathers, instantly rushing to fill the space he had just occupied.
Startled, Roswell took a cautious step back, but that wasn't the only change that took place. Just a moment after Hugo vanished, he felt the weight in his hand suddenly lighten, as his fingers coiled around empty air.
There was no warning, no struggle, no slipping of fingers nor a desperate twist of the body. His fingers which were once clasped around Azdins throat, were suddenly completely free, only pitch black feathers falling in between them now.
Quickly, his eyes snapped downward, then to the sides, searching for where those two could've possibly gone, as well as trying to figure out what the hell was happening.
It was then that he saw them.
Not too far from where Hugo once kneeled, he had returned still lowered to the ground. But unlike before, laying beside him now.. was Azdin.
His chest heaved faintly, air finally returning to him in ragged pulls as he gradually returned from unconsciousness. It was unlikely that he'd be able to fight again though.
For a split second, Roswell simply stared, while trying to rationalize the situation quickly.
'He grabbed the boy from me? But it didn't feel like that at all... And the speed he'd need to do it with, he can barely even stand.. What's going on?'
As he cautiously watched him though, Hugo turned his head and glared right back. Blood still running down from his head, now streaking down to his face and forcing him to shut one eye. But the intensity that remained in the other one didn't dull—no, it sharpened even.
With sharp motion, he raised his blade as he aimed its tip directly at Roswell himself.
"Forget your arm. Next, I shall take your life."
It was then that everything clicked. The sudden speed that Hugo now possessed, the strange phenomena occuring around him, and the surge of confidence he now seemed to be brimming with.
The boy, Hugo, had Awakened his Aspect.