Bab 42: The Red Giant

GAVIN reeled backwards, not once in his life has he ever faced someone like this. He could feel his faith shattering with every step the man took. His boots echoed against the metal stairs as he descended, he could see the bloodlust in his eyes.

"Oh," the red haired marine spoke with a smile lingering on his face. However, Gavin didn't see a smile, all he saw was a wild animal baring its fangs at them. "A cryptid like me," he said, addressing Aziz.

Gavin glanced at Aziz, the man was their vice captain and someone he trusts very dearly. "He is a Hazard, he assimilates the Amber Sigil specifically, but still… his strength… it's unnatural!"

"I can tell that from his physique," Aziz replied, furrowing his brows. "However, there is something oddly interesting about him. Something familiar even."

"I have never met you before in my life but my name is Benjamin Ulr," he said with a bow. "What's yours?"

Aziz's eyes bulged. "Benjamin Ulr. As in the Red Giant!" He backed up, shielding Gavin from view, the old man might be an experienced member but he could never stand against someone as famed as the Red Giant.

"Yes, that is what people tend to call me, a name I don't really understand. I am not red, neither am I a giant," he shook his head.

"Gavin, go to the captain, tell him we have a huge problem." He spoke to the old man, his eyes not leaving the red giant for a split second. "That is not the Narvach's ship, we were confronted by a Marshal!"

"A Marshal?" Gavin jerked. "Irene Bjorn!" His old wrinkled face contorted from fear to terror in a matter of seconds. "Don't tell me we have her tribunal on our ship!"

"Let the captain know. We need to leave as fast as possible!"

"Leave?" Benjamin scoffed. "If I were you, I would tell the captain to surrender because none of you can leave or escape!"

Aziz glanced at him. "You underestimate us, we are the Ironhand pirates," he said.

"Yeah. One of the few notorious pirate groups that has always found a way to elude us. However you have made the wrong move and we have you right where we want you to be!"

Gavin sprinted as fast as his old legs allowed, every step a struggle against age and pain. As he neared the captain's private cabin, a large metal slab hurtled toward him. He barely ducked in time, feeling his back crack painfully as he twisted. He gritted his teeth, leaning against the wall for support as he steadied himself.

At seventy-six, Gavin wasn't supposed to be alive. A terminal illness should have claimed him three years ago, but the captain had saved him, and from that day on, Gavin's loyalty was bound by gratitude and reverence. Others respected the captain's strength, but to Gavin, he was nearly divine.

Their voyages had brought them into the path of fearsome pirates before, but Gavin had never seen anyone move like this Red Giant. Straightening with effort, he looked ahead and saw two figures tearing through his crewmates. One of them, with golden hair, he recognized instantly: Helios Charlemagne, the Narvach.

Gavin watched, transfixed, as Helios wielded metal sheets with terrifying ease, bending them to his will and cutting down his foes. The captain stood nearby, leaning against the wall with a cocky smile, while his guard, Bijan Jafar, observed the carnage with focused intensity.

Summoning his strength, Gavin dashed forward through the chaos, weaving between his crewmates as they tried to contain the combined onslaught of Helios and another unknown man. At last, he reached the captain, breathless.

"Gavin?" the captain said, surprised, his tone both curious and concerned.

"Captain, we need to run!" Gavin gasped.

"What do you mean?" Anderson's voice turned sharp.

"The ship out there, it's not for Helios. It's the Retribution." Gavin took a steadying breath. "I ran into one of the Tribunals. He's killed everyone above deck. The only reason they haven't boarded is because of the shield. We still have time to escape."

Anderson glanced at Bijan, then at the battlefield where his crew fought desperately against the Narvach and his ally. His plan to overwhelm them with sheer numbers was unraveling fast against this brutal assault.

"Then we get everyone off this ship," Anderson said, already stepping forward to rally his men.

"No, Captain, you have to leave. You need to be at the Chapel before the visitor arrives," Gavin urged.

"And just abandon my crew?" Anderson shot him a look of disbelief and irritation.

"You can always gather a new crew, Captain, but the cult will never find another chaplain like you. With the visitor, the possibilities are endless." Gavin's voice turned urgent. "Please, Captain, none of us will leave here alive if Irene Bjorn boards this ship."

Anderson sighed, conceding to Gavin's logic. He knew too well that even he couldn't stand against Irene Bjorn in his current state. He glanced at his hand, feeling the red mist swirling within, a power he had spent his life cultivating in devotion to the visitor, unlocking arcane secrets even Irene hadn't touched. Though he couldn't face her alone, he could call for help.

He looked back at Gavin and Bijan. "Hold them here, both of you. Let no one reach the lowest deck. I need to pray."

Meanwhile, on the Retribution, Irene fixed her gaze on the ship's shield, roiling with red mist, fury blazing in her eyes. "Why can't I just shatter this shield again?" She turned to Ag and Moirai.

"Observation: The energy signatures surrounding that crimson mist indicate an extraordinary level of volatile radiation," Ag intoned with mechanical precision. "By all calculations, the mist should be in a constant storm of explosive activity, yet it remains calm—an anomaly beyond previous comprehension. Furthermore, analysis reveals no known elemental traces. Instead, its readings disturbingly align with signatures commonly derived from extreme emotional discord."

"So, to put it simply, that thing is corruptive," Moirai interjected. "Messing with it unguided could cause a whole new problem. Give me time to break it down." She closed her eyes, extending her hand toward the mist as glowing threads swam through the air, weaving themselves into the Warden's shield.

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