Bordo’s hand shot out and closed on air, fingers curling hard enough to ache. “Arvey—” tore from his throat. “You better still be alive,” he rasped as his body pitched forward and his boots scraped across slick boards.

  Beneath the hull, the black water lay still. Bordo’s calves tightened as he gathered himself to jump, and his shoulders loaded for the push. Narrowing his eyes he fixed on the rail, and his breath tightened into short pulls.

  “Bordo!”

  Lysa drove her shoulder into his chest and forced him back a half step. Planting both feet she spread her arms and braced her weight against him, blocking the edge with her body. “Don't do it...,” she said, lifting her chin to meet his eyes.

  “You will die!" She added.

  Bordo’s breath dragged through his throat and his fists shook in front of him. “Move,” he growled, loading his hips as his jaw clenched until his tusks pressed together.

  Lysa held her ground and her arms trembled against his chest. “Think about it,” she said through clenched teeth, and Bordo felt the strain in her shoulders as she kept her stance.

  His legs gave way under the pull in his spine, and he dropped. His knees struck wood and the shock ran through his spine into his jaw. “Damn it,” he muttered as splinters drove into his palms and he tightened his grip until his hands cramped.

  The deck stretched wide around him and the gap at the rail drew his eyes. “Arvey,” he said again in a low voice, as he stared at the black surface.

  Nyx lowered his finger and the air shifted with the motion. The Hal’Grags froze in place with claws stopped inches from skin and jaws held open. “Stand down,” Nyx said.

  Bordo tracked the nearest creature first. Its shoulder stayed locked. Its wrist stayed raised. Bordo’s eyes moved to the next one, then the next, checking distance and angle as if the fight could resume at any step.

  But the slaughter suddenly stopped.

  The Bloody Baron laughed, the sound thin across the deck. “Impressive,” he said, raising his bottle.

  Bordo followed the bottle with his eyes. He watched the Baron’s wrist stay steady, watched the glass mouth angle toward the air above the planks.

  Every drop of blood shifted. Streams tore free from skin, cloth, and splintered boards and pulled through the air in tight lines toward the bottle’s mouth. “That will do,” the Baron murmured as the liquid inside churned.

  Bordo felt his own sleeves go cold as blood ripped free from the fabric. Dry cloth scraped against his forearms. His knuckles tightened, and a sharp ache ran through his hand where he had struck wood.

  A slave beside the mast swallowed hard. “He collects the blood,” the man whispered.

  Bordos eyes stayed on the streams as they narrowed, as they thinned, as the last streak peeled away from a dead man’s throat and vanished into the bottle.

  The deck lay stripped when the movement ceased. Broken planks and shattered crates remained where they had split, and bodies lay where they had fallen with wounds exposed. “Clean,” the Baron said.

  The Baron took a long pull from the bottle, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and exhaled in satisfaction.

  “Had you continued,” he said lightly, eyes on Nyx, “I would have had to intervene.”

  Nyx’s shape shifted, edges blurring like smoke under water. “Your restraint is noted,” Nyx replied, holding his gaze.

  “Restraint costs,” the Baron answered, and his gaze swept over the remaining slaves. Bordo felt it pass over him, like being appraised as cargo.

  “What did you leave us?" the Baron continued. "Scraps.”

  The word landed like a slap. “That will have consequences,” he added, still smiling.

  Heat rose behind Bordos eyes and pressure filled his ribcage. His body surged forward again on instinct, but Lysa didn't let him through.

  She stayed in front of him, arms still wide, body trembling now. Her jaw was set so hard Bordo could see the strain in her neck. Her eyes never left his.

  “Please,” she said, softer this time as Bordo froze. The fury had nowhere to go. It sat in his chest, pressing down on him.

  “Break the pact again,” Nyx warned, his voice like frost, “and even the treaty will not be enough.”

  The captain inclined his head. A mockery of respect. “Then grant me an audience with Lamieles,” he said. “We will discuss today’s… misalignment.”

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  Nyx held his gaze on the Baron and remained still. After several breaths he spoke. “Lamieles accepts your request. In thirty days His Majesty will contact you.”

  The Baron clicked his tongue once. “We will see,” he said.

  Darkness at the ship’s edge folded inward and smoothed flat as Nyx suddenly vanished. The wind moved through the sails and sound returned across the deck in layers, rope creak following wave hush.

  The Bloody Baron turned away as if nothing of note had occurred. “Clean the mess,” he said over his shoulder. Turning his head toward Hamdeni, he added, “Handle the rest.”

  He disappeared into his cabin. The latch clicked once as he shut his cabin door.

  For a moment, no one moved.

  Then the anger came.

  Voices rose. Shouts. Curses hurled at the sea, at the crew, at the sky. A man kicked over a bucket, the clang echoing too loudly. Another sobbed openly, fists pressed to his eyes.

  Hamdeni stepped forward and scanned the slaves in a slow sweep, measuring posture, stance, and breath. “Tier Two. Tier Three,” he muttered. His gaze paused on a tall figure near the rail. “Some Tier Five. Solid.”

  He shifted his attention to the others who shouted and wept and raised his voice to cut through the noise.

  “Enough!” he roared.

  ““You think this is new?!” he shouted. “You know what this world demands!” He paced with steady steps and kept his shoulders square as the ship rolled under him.

  “You breathe inside a cage or you breathe in freedom! Choose! But everything has a price!”

  “Now clean the deck!”

  At first the slaves hesitated, shoulders tight and hands hovering over the mess. Then they rose one by one and stepped forward with shallow breaths. “Lift it,” one slave said as Hal’Grag limbs scraped across the planks, another answered with a grunt as he dragged a plate toward the rail.

  Bordo stayed on his knees and kept his eyes on the water. The ship’s weight pressed through the planks into his shins, and the still surface held his gaze.

  Heat rose in his chest and spread into his hands. He blinked and drew a short breath as the warmth settled under his skin and stayed there. “What is this,” he murmured, and his pulse shifted into a slower, heavier beat.

  The boards beneath his knees creaked as his posture tightened. “Steady,” he breathed, testing his grip as his fingers closed and opened. Feeling the tendons along his forearm lock into place, he held the fist for a moment and felt his breath drop lower into his lungs.

  Recognition landed with that deeper breath. He had crossed the line into Tier One. The surprise sat in his throat, then eased into a hard, quiet relief.

  “Finally,” he said under his breath.

  Lamieles name came to him on instinct, the name dragging heat up through his ribs. He leaned forward a fraction and kept his eyes on the rail. “You will pay for this,” he whispered.

  Lysa crouched closer. “Bordo,” she said, keeping her voice low, “you will lose yourself again.” She watched his hands, then his breathing, reading the tension in his shoulders.

  Bordo’s jaw worked and his tusks pressed together. “He was my only friend,” he said with a rough voice. “He moved first. He took hits meant for others.” Heat climbed through his chest again and his forearm tightened until his fist shook.

  “You carry anger well,” Lysa said. “Use it with control. The nature will guide you.” Turning her head she looked toward the bow, then back to Bordo. “I listened to crew talk. They steer for Mercadia.”

  “Mercadia?”, he asked.

  Lysa nodded once. “Mercadia gives you chances,” she said. “Mercadia gives work that pays in strength.” She kept her palm on his shoulder. “The next days will be quiet. We crossed the Abyss already. Keep control and keep yourself safe.”

  Bordo swallowed and forced his breathing to slow down. He kept his weight low and his knees bent, riding the ship’s roll through his ankles. “I keep control,” he said.

  A bootstep stopped close behind them. Hamdeni’s sharp voice cut in. “Stand up,” he said.

  Bordo planted his palms and pushed. His knees protested and his thighs shook as he shifted weight onto his feet. Pain pulled through his knuckles where wood had split, and the warmth under his skin held his muscles tight as he rose. His breath dragged against the pressure in his chest. Turning his head he locked eyes with Hamdeni, holding the stare with a hard jaw.

  Hamdeni laughed once. “That look,” he said, “belongs on men who survive.” He nodded toward the rail without moving closer. “The Abyss water rots what it swallows. Few continue to live after a fall.”

  Bordo took one step forward. “You-!” he snapped, the word tearing out with his breath. His shoulders loaded as his fists tightened at his sides.

  Hamdeni watched the step and let his smile fade. “Pray your friend lives,” he said, and he let the words sit for a breath. “I think he died down there.”

  Heat surged up Bordo’s neck and his vision narrowed on Hamdeni’s mouth. He stepped again and swung, shoulder driving first, fist cutting a short line through the air.

  Hamdeni lifted one hand and caught Bordo’s wrist mid-strike. Fingers clamped down with clean pressure, stopping the punch before it reached his face. Bordo’s elbow jarred and pain flashed through his knuckles inside the wrap.

  "Fool..", Hamdeni said, as he let his mana flare outward in a controlled pulse. The mana pressed into Bordo’s chest and stomach, his arm trembling against the hold, and his breath broke for a beat before he forced it back down.

  Crew members reached for weapons. Steel slid from sheaths. A few stepped forward with knees bent and eyes fixed on Bordo. Some slaves froze and watched.

  Hamdeni kept his eyes on Bordo and spoke to his crew members without raising his voice. “Everything under control,” he said.

  He tightened his grip a fraction and held Bordo in place. “You’ve merely reached Tier One,” he added, voice calm. “Your path begins only now.”

  Bordo’s feet held position, but his whole body trembled under the pressure. His breath shortened, then he forced it lower, keeping his shoulders square while the force pinned his ribs.

  Hamdeni tilted his head and kept his eyes on Bordo’s stance. “Taking your life would be easy for me,” he said. “And it would be even easier for kings like Lamieles to wipe out ants like us," he smirked. "What we are to him," he added. He lifted his chin toward the wreckage. “Pull yourself together. Get to work.”

  Lysa stepped in fast and lowered her head. “Captain,” she said, “forgive him.” She took Bordo’s sleeve and pulled him away, guiding Bordo away as fast as possible.

  Bordo kept his eyes on Hamdeni as his feet moved. His jaw stayed clenched and his breath scraped through his throat. “I will remember every word,” he said in a low voice.

  Hamdeni turned away and spoke to himself in a quiet voice. “The pact holds this ship together,” he said. “Without it the Abyss tears us apart.” He looked toward the rail and the waters. “Know the value of your life instead of wasting it."