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Salt and Blood - Chapter 146
🕑 Added 2025-04-02 12:24:45 +0000 UTC<< Chapter 145 | Table of Contents | Chapter 147 >>
2.52 - Stepping Up
It is only during hard times that we discover our true character. Those who rise to the challenge are forged in the flames of trial, while those who shy away from difficulty will crumble and lie broken on the path to greatness
-Excerpt from ‘Silversea Saga’ by Norris Howell
Rose whipped her head back. The sudden movement strained her neck muscles and tendons. The dull ache was the least of her worries.
A simple black dagger cut through the air where her head had been a moment before. A single bead of crimson blood rolled down the tip of her nose onto the pilum of her lip.
Too close for comfort.
There was no time to relax or recover from the strike. A ripple in the surrounding air signaled another dagger.
The first whipped around, flying back into the shadows while the second lanced at her heart. Every strike was lethal, thrown with the intent to kill.
A single moment’s hesitation would mean death. Or worse. Rose wasn’t sure with an opponent this crazy.
Perhaps she would capture her. There were fates worse than death. Despite the many daggers being launched at her, Rose couldn’t see her opponent even once.
She was utilising a strange technique to remain hidden in the shadows. There had to be a secret to it. No one could remain invisible forever.
To be honest, Rose didn’t care for her sudden opponent’s fighting style. Rather than let her control the tempo of battle, she opted for a flashier approach.
“You two, take cover!” she yelled to her comrades while charging a maelstrom of energy in her chest.
The instant she saw Axel and Everyn crouching down, she let the energy erupt outwards. Any soldiers who had been in the midst of renewing their assault were lacerated with a dozen wounds.
Rose heard a cough and the sound of stumbling steps. The rear admiral had blood dripping from a single wound on her cheek. She glared at Rose with contempt as the second dagger flew back into her hand.
“Nasty girl, didn’t your parents ever teach you manners? Don’t interrupt a woman while she’s having fun,” the officer spat.
Rose had already been frustrated facing such a strange and annoying opponent. The mention of her parents blew her fuse.
“Don’t you dare mention my parents. Not after what you evil invaders did,” Rose roared, darting towards her foe.
Even as she raised her daggers to block, the woman raised an eyebrow while cocking her head to one side. “Evil? Gods, you really are a child,” she cackled in tune with the clang of steel.
The two exchanged a dozen blows in a few seconds, the daggers smashing Rose’s stolen cutlasses away as if they were swords themselves. Rose cursed the flimsy weapons, missing Sunsplitter more with every moment.
If—no, when—she got out of here, she vowed to find a smith to either repair her treasured blades or forge her a better pair. It was essential if she wanted to continue fighting at this level.
Despite her creepy behaviour and disgusting words, the woman was skilled. Unlike the commodore’s Rose had faced in the past, she barely broke a sweat during their initial clash.
Her arms weaved through the air. It was as though she was conducting a symphony rather than fighting. Rose knew she was outmatched.
Even though she’d been fighting and practicing with cutlasses almost as long as she’d been a pirate, some things only time could teach. She did notice however, that her own energy was far purer than the woman’s.
With one advantage to work with, Rose decided to utilise it as fully as she could. Now, with every swing of her blades she sent a spark of arcane power bursting from the tip.
The tables were turned in but a few strikes. Now, Rose was the one pressing the attack. Her opponent grew flustered, having to exert more energy to defend.
Rose pushed the woman all the way against one of the walls, when she realised that a grin had been forming on her enemy’s face the entire time. The rear admiral’s heel touched the wall. The hairs on the back of her neck raised.
A piercing wail split the near silence. Rose’s ears and head exploded in agony. She staggered backwards, clutching her head.
An echoing giggle came from all around her. When she was able to suppress the pain enough to stand back up, the woman had vanished.
Half a second later she felt both daggers flying at her. One from either side. She had been slow to react and could only dodge one.
Rose pivoted, deflecting the first dagger with her blade while allowing the other to strike her shoulder. It was a shallow wound, made worse when the blade ripped itself out and flew back into the shadows.
“Is that all? How long will you hide while dealing flesh wounds?” Rose sneered, taunting her foe. “It doesn’t matter if you can avoid me forever if you can never kill me.”
At that moment a lance of burning pain shot down her arm, originating in her shoulder. Rose cursed as she stumbled from the distracting agony.
Another dagger lanced from the darkness. It buried itself in her thigh. There was a momentary delay before her leg started to burn. Rose realised the daggers were poisoned.
She felt it begin to vibrate. The woman was about to reclaim her weapon, when Rose suddenly tossed away her cutlasses.
As the dagger loosened itself she reached down and gripped it firmly in her right hand. The sensation of it struggling to get free was ticklish.
“You! Release the dagger at once, impudent brat,” the woman screeched, appearing in front of Rose.
Skill up!
Toxin Resistance 6 > 8
Rose ignored the whorl, keeping a steady grip on the stolen dagger. Her opponent’s reaction told her everything she needed to know.
The weapon fell limp. Rose didn’t loosen her grip, a decision that proved prudent when it suddenly erupted with force a moment later. The blade seemed desperate to return to its master.
“Damn brat! Give it back,” the woman spat, her face twisted into an ugly scowl.
Rose returned the rage with a smirk, waving the dagger in front of her face. “You want it? Come and get it,” she jeered.
Her provocations worked like a charm. The rear admiral rushed towards her. The dagger flew between both her hands while she cut and slashed at Rose.
Rose wasn’t as skilled with a dagger as she was with a cutlass, but she knew enough to stay on her toes. Every slash was met with one of her own.
The bursts of arcane energy that accompanied each of Rose’s strikes gave her the upper hand. Combined with the rage that blinded her foe, she soon levied a series of wounds against the woman.
After a second, she frowned. The woman didn’t seem to be affected by the poison coating the blade. Rose raised the dagger to her face, inspecting it closely.
What? Nothing? she inwardly exclaimed, realising the daggers were clean of any venom or toxins. It meant that it was the woman’s technique, rather than a physical substance.
Even so, having one of her weapons out of her reach clearly infuriated the female officer. So much so that she was getting sloppy.
With a snarl, she lunged at Rose with the remaining dagger, slashing at her face with her bare hand at the same time. Rose didn’t know which disgusted her more—the toxic blade or the woman’s nails.
Flecks of dark red coated them. If Rose didn’t know better she would have said it was dried blood.
Deflecting the dagger with the one she wielded was child’s play. She wondered why this woman was a rear admiral if her strength was only marginally more than a commodore’s. Perhaps it’s the case that I’ve grown stronger, instead? she wondered.
Even while blocking the barehanded strike, two of her nails dug into Rose’s skin, peeling away ribbons. The pain was a sharp sting, but it was nothing compared to what the creepy woman did next.
Raising the two fingers to her lips, she stuck out her tongue and licked the blood from them. Rose gagged, tasting bile in the back of her throat.
“Delicious,” the woman purred, her rage quelled. Her gaze locked onto Rose, a predatory gleam in her eyes. “Let’s dance.”
With that, she lunged. Her movements were faster than before by almost fifty percent. Rose had to use her arcane energy to dodge in time.
Even lacking one of her daggers no longer seemed to bother the woman. Instead, she stared at Rose the way a hungry dog would eye up a steak.
Her dagger flew in wild curves and arcs, no longer aimed at Rose’s vitals but any exposed flesh in sight. It seemed her objective had shifted from a kill to simply drawing blood.
Any other time Rose would have rejoiced at such a turn of events, but knowing what the woman wanted her blood for, she could only suppress her disgust and continue to fight. Her dignity was at stake.
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