Steel and Sorrow: Rise of the Mercenary king - Chapter 153

Chapter 153: King of the sea Chapter 153: King of the sea A tall man with neck-long black hair stood firmly at the bow of a ship, his hand gripping the bowsprit tightly as he looked out over the sea.

His hair blew wildly in the strong wind, strands of it whipping across his stern face.

The white sail above him, stretched taut by the gusts, billowed high and proud, propelling the ship forward.

His dark eyes narrowed as he took in the horizon, then suddenly, his voice boomed across the deck.

“Row, you dogs!” he shouted, his words laced with impatience.

His gaze flicked down to the rowers, slaves hunched over their oars below deck, their muscles straining as they heaved in unison, their skins peeling off from the salt and the continuing touch with the oars.

The roar of twenty slaves, grunting and groaning under the weight of their task, filled the air, blending with the creak of the ship and the relentless crash of waves.

The oars plunged into the water rhythmically, each stroke pushing the ship faster, their efforts adding speed to the wind-driven vessel.

The man’s grip on the bowsprit tightened, his body bracing against the ship’s motion as he sighted the sea.

The pirate ship was slender and long, a menacing vessel cutting swiftly through the waves.

Measuring nearly two and a half meters tall and twenty meters wide, it moved with deadly grace.

The hull was sleek, built for speed, its dark wood glistening in the sunlight, a predator chasing its prey.

Onboard, the deck was crowded with hardened men, their swords hanging from their belts, shields slung across their backs.

Clad in chainmail and helmets, the men stood ready, their eyes locked on the horizon where their next prize sailed.

The metallic jingle of their armor mixed with the creaking wood and the wind whipping the white sail.

Ahead of them, a merchant ship desperately tried to flee.

It was a broad, sluggish vessel, not built for speed but for carrying goods.

Its sails strained to catch the wind, but no matter how hard the crew worked, the pirate ship was closing in fast.

The merchant’s deck was frantic with movement as sailors scrambled, shouting orders, casting panicked glances over their shoulders at the pursuing pirate ship that bore down on them with terrifying speed.

The two ships surged through the waves, the ocean roaring beneath them, but both crews knew the chase was nearing its end.

The merchant ship, slow and heavy, was no match for the sleek predator closing in on it, and the men aboard could already feel the weight of their defeat looming.

Suddenly, a wild voice pierced the air, cutting through the wind like a howl.

“How much have I missed this ?!” one of the pirates bellowed, his shout echoing across the deck, sending a ripple of excitement through the crew.

The captain, Blake, stood at the bow, his black hair whipping in the wind, a wicked grin spreading across his face.

“All right, boys!” he roared, his voice a thunderous command that filled the deck with feral energy.

“Let’s fuck the Empire hard and their merchants even harder” He jammed his helmet down onto his head, the polished steel gleaming in the sunlight, before turning back to his men, their eyes gleaming with savage anticipation.

“Board her!” Blake shouted, his arm thrust toward the merchant ship now just within reach.

The crew erupted in a chorus of bloodthirsty cheers, swords drawn and shields raised, as they readied to storm the helpless vessel.

The first wave of twenty pirates stood at the bow of their slender ship, bows knocked and ready.

“Loose!” came the shout, and as one, they released their arrows.

The sky darkened for a moment as the arrows arced through the air, hissing like deadly serpents before raining down on the merchant ship.

Sailors aboard the merchant vessel screamed in panic as the arrows struck.

Men stumbled and fell, clutching at wounds, while others frantically tried to keep rowing.

A few oars slipped from limp hands, splashing into the sea.

The ship slowed, crippled, as more arrows found their marks.

Some of the dozen guards aboard raised shields in a desperate attempt to protect the crew, but it was clear they were hopelessly outmatched.

“Draw closer!” Blake shouted, his voice booming over the chaos as the gap between the ships narrowed.

With a savage grin, he led his men toward the rail, ropes and grappling hooks at the ready.

Arrows continued to rain down, sending sailors scattering for cover.

The pirates threw their hooks with practiced precision, securing them to the merchant ship’s deck.

“Board!” Blake roared, and with wild, bloodthirsty cries, the pirates surged forward, swords drawn and shields raised.

The first of the pirate raiders leaped across, landing heavily on the deck of the merchant ship, their weapons gleaming in the sunlight.

A guard, desperate and wide-eyed, charged toward Blake with a furious shout, his sword raised high.

Blake saw him coming, his lips curling into a grim smile.

As the man brought his sword down in a powerful swing, Blake raised his own blade and parried the strike with a sharp clang of steel.

Before the guard could recover, Blake stepped in, his free hand shooting out like a viper.

He grabbed the man by the neck, fingers digging into his flesh with crushing force.

The guard’s eyes bulged in shock as Blake lifted him slightly off his feet and slammed him down onto the deck with a heavy thud.

The sound of impact was lost in the din of battle, but the fear in the guard’s eyes was unmistakable.

Blake stood over him, planting his boot firmly on the man’s chest, pinning him to the blood-slicked wood.

“Not so brave now, are you?” he growled.

Without hesitation, Blake raised his sword and drove it down into the guard’s neck, ending his life in a single, brutal strike.

The man’s body twitched once before going still beneath Blake’s foot.

As Blake stepped over the lifeless body of his latest victim, another guard rushed at him, screaming in desperation.

This one was faster, his sword already mid-swing before Blake could fully turn.

Instinctively, Blake twisted his body, the enemy’s blade grazing his chainmail with a screech but failing to cut through.

Blake, unshaken, countered with a vicious overhead strike.

The guard brought his sword up just in time, the impact sending a shockwave through his arms as steel clashed again.

Sparks flew, and Blake grinned, seeing the man’s trembling hands.

Without missing a beat, Blake shoved forward with brute strength, forcing the guard back.

As the man stumbled, Blake swung his fist, slamming it into the guard’s face with a bone-crunching blow.

Blood sprayed from the man’s nose, and he staggered, dazed.

Blake seized the moment, stepping in close.

With a savage roar he drove his knee into the guard’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

The man doubled over, gasping for breath, but Blake wasn’t done.

He grabbed the back of the guard’s helmet, yanked him upright, and slammed him on the ground repeatedly before finishing him off by stepping onto his throat The pirates tore through the merchant ship like wolves among sheep.

With the initial resistance broken, the guards who hadn’t already fallen to arrows or blades were quickly overwhelmed.

The chaos of battle faded into desperate cries for mercy as the pirates’ superior numbers and ruthless efficiency made short work of the defenders.

Blake’s men surged across the deck, hacking through the last pockets of resistance.

Those who tried to stand and fight were cut down without hesitation, their bodies hitting the blood-slicked deck with dull thuds.

The merchant crew, outnumbered and unarmed, stood no chance.

One by one, they dropped their weapons, raising their hands in surrender as the realization dawned: there would be no escape.

“On your knees!” one pirate bellowed, grabbing a sailor by the scruff of his neck and throwing him down onto the deck.

All around, the defeated crew and remaining guards were forced to their knees, their hands bound tightly behind their backs with rough rope.

The captain of the merchant ship, beaten and bloodied, was shoved forward to kneel beside his men.

His eyes, wide with fear and despair, flickered up to Blake, who stood towering above the captives.

The pirates whooped and jeered, kicking the bound men or spitting at them as they secured the victory.

Blake sheathed his blood-stained sword, looking down at the kneeling crew.

“That’s better,” he said, his voice calm but dripping with malice.

His men laughed, already looting the merchant ship, gathering sacks of goods and valuables.

Blake strode across the bloodied deck, his eyes sweeping over the kneeling captives.

He stopped in front of the merchant captain, who winced under his gaze.

Blake crouched down to meet his eyes, a cruel smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

“Tell me, captain,” Blake began, voice low and dangerous, “is there anyone who can pay your ransom?” The merchant nodded quickly, sweat pouring down his face.

“M-my brother…

He’ll pay, I swear it!” Blake narrowed his eyes for a moment, then nodded thoughtfully.

“Good,” he muttered, before pointing to the next man beside him, a trembling deckhand whose face was as pale as a ghost.

“What about you?

Anyone who’ll ransom you?” Blake asked, his voice icy.

The deckhand, shaking his head furiously, mumbled a terrified, “No…

no one.” Blake stood up slowly, his smirk gone.

He turned to address the rest of the bound men, his voice booming over the quiet tension.

“Normally,” Blake began, pacing back and forth as his pirates watched in silence, “you lot would have been sold into slavery.

That’s what would have awaited you.” The men stirred nervously, but Blake’s next words cut through their fear like a blade.

“But,” Blake said, raising a finger, “today is a special day.” His crew exchanged glances, grins spreading across their faces as they began to sense what was coming.

Blake’s eyes gleamed with vicious anticipation as he continued.

“Today,” he growled, “we pick up where our ancestors failed.

And the first step?

Sating their hunger.” Without warning, Blake grabbed one of the sailors by the back of his shirt, lifting him with terrifying ease.

The sailor kicked and screamed in panic, but Blake dragged him to the edge of the ship, holding him over the side.

His eyes burned with fury as he shouted to his crew, “Today, we avenge those who died at Rock Bottom!Let these men serve our ancestors laying on the bottom of the sea” With a brutal shove, Blake hurled the man overboard.

The sailor’s scream was short-lived, silenced as he hit the water with a splash.

The other prisoners cried out in horror, watching helplessly as Blake and his pirates turned toward them.

“One by one!” Blake barked, and his men moved swiftly, grabbing the captives by their collars, dragging them to the side of the ship, and tossing them into the waves like sacks of grain.

The water churned with bodies as the pirates roared in triumph, throwing each man overboard, their cries drowned out by the roar of the ocean and the jeers of Blake’s crew.

The merchant captain’s face drained of all color, his skin as pale as a ghost under the brutal midday sun.

His trembling lips parted, but no words escaped as he watched his men thrown overboard, one after another, their screams silenced by the cold, unforgiving sea.

His eyes darted wildly between the pirates, their roars of laughter and savage cheers filling the air like a storm of madness.

Blake stood amidst the chaos, his chest rising and falling steadily, watching it all unfold with a twisted sense of satisfaction.

Around him, his crew shouted and jeered, some raising their bloodied weapons high to the sky, others howling like wild beasts, reveling in their brutal victory.

The sound was deafening, a chorus of raw, unchecked fury, echoing across the open sea.

But Blake’s mind was elsewhere, far beyond the violence and bloodshed before him.

His dark eyes gleamed with something far greater than the carnage at hand.

As he looked across the vast horizon, where the sky met the sea, he felt the weight of destiny settling on his shoulders.

Enough of this….he thought, his lips curling into a slow, cruel grin.

The time has come.

The seas need new kings roaring over their waves.