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Salt and Blood - Chapter 86
🕑 Added 2024-11-28 10:30:42 +0000 UTC<< Chapter 85 | Table of Contents | Chapter 87 >>
1.86 - Chasing Sunbeams
Rule through the fear of your wrath or the love of the masses—which supersedes the other? I’d argue that the most effective rulers employ both, whether they admit it or not.
-Excerpt from ‘Power and Influence: How to Run a Nation’ by Sea-Emperor Vadaris Neptuna
Trent drew his enchanted leather trench coat from his inventory, wrapping it around himself in one smooth motion. He’d wanted Branmore to see the difference between them before he died, but facing the Shadow King bare chested would be embarrassing.
For one, he actually had a modicum of respect for Chester Saff. His methods were callous and many despised him, but they were short-sighted.
The man could’ve replaced his master as the official Sea-Lord of Minenblum years ago, but he chose to let a wrinkled geezer stay in the seat while he ruled from behind the throne.
Of course, King Malthax held all the power. Figuratively. Minenblum was only a superpower by virtue of its navy and as such the one who steered the wheel was the one who ruled these seas.
At the very least, Trent figured he could cause some chaos in the coming years if he was able to drag the Shadow King of Minenblum to a watery grave alongside himself. He had no illusions of surviving this ordeal.
Whatever he’d led Rose to believe was just to placate the girl. Yasmin knew he wasn’t returning alive.
The only consolation Trent had was that he’d be buried in the depths, alongside his oldest friend—the greatest chef to sail these waters.
“You damn bastard Nasar. After all these years of suffering this blighted rot, you managed to sneak ahead of me,” he chuckled.
Nine ships broke through the mist, following the wall of fiery death soaring through the sky. It was far from a subtle declaration of war, but despite his moniker the Shadow King wasn’t one for subterfuge.
For perhaps the last time, Trent called on the tide and skimmed through his status. By now it was a blinding wall of words, the result of decades of piracy and adventure.
Name: Trent Refala
Race: Human (Blighted)
Occupations:
[Active]: Plague Duke of the Dark Sun 63
[Completed]: Dawnbringer★, Heroic Captain★, Master Light Mage★, Treasure Seeker★, Master Captain★, Light Mage★, Captain★, Upstart Adventurer★, Quartermaster★, Apprentice Light Mage★, Apprentice Thief★
Title: Constellation
Available Titles: Soulreaper, Apprentice, Journeyman, Master, Hero, Decalithic Talent, Vaunted Harvester, Epipelagic, Mesopelagic, Bathypelagic, Constellation, Blight-touched, Madman, Immortal, Depthstrider, Tidequencher, Thoroughly Attuned, Embodiment, Centurion, Overachiever, Dedicated, Unblinded, Casanova
Bound Items: Mythril Tideheart ★★19, Soulwood Pistol ★86, Kraken Hide Trench Coat ★★4, Sevalon’s Revenge ★★★7
Skills:
[General]: Cleaning ★4, Fishing 63, Butchery 79, Cooking 17, Crafting 6, Hunting 22, Carpentry 83
[Cerebral]: Reading 44, Writing 57, Focus ★21, Drawing 2, Appraisal ★6, Multitasking ★13, Leadership ★★4
[Physical]: Adaptive Physiology ★11, Swimming ★66, Endurance ★★1, Athletics ★39, Toxin Resistance ★★18, Climbing 96, Stealth ★72, Bulwark 38
[Martial]: One Handed Weapons ★★41, Blades ★★9, Pistols ★83, Firearms ★31, Rifles 56, Unarmed Combat ★92, Dual Wielding 31, Whips 6, Bows 4, Fist Weapons ★35, Tidal Enhancement ★85
[Arcane]: Arcane Attunement ★46, Light Attunement ★★★15, Arcane Resistance ★8, Blight Resistance ★65, Water Attunement 19, Fire Attunement 83, Wind Attunement 7, Mind Attunement 22, Shadow Attunement 71, Metal Attunement 5
[Divine]: Blight Assimilation 12
Traits: Sensitive Line, Good as New, Tunnel Vision, Endless Inkwell, Quick Consumption, Knot my Problem, Reliable Duelist, Steady Slash, Smooth Strokes, Agile, With the Grain, Ambidextrous, Thick Skin, Energetic, Inventor, Seductive Lure, Tideforged…
To this day, Trent didn’t know how Kaldex got his hands on that accursed artifact or why the prince was even ferrying it around with him. At first he’d been shocked to receive a divine skill.
But he soon realised it was far from a boon. Every inch the corruption spread the skill would grow along with his resistance to it.
Why something as foul as this necrotic rot would be the realm of the divine escaped him. Until the day he died.
And awoke once more in the depths of a mountain hold. A mad smith had saved his life, but forever bound him to the mercy of the Mythril Tideheart.
Zed Madhammer was both his saviour and the man who’d cursed him to this dreadful existence. To make things worse, earning the Immortal title had given him a greater resistance to the blight and prolonged his suffering even further.
A few years ago he’d given in and decided to finally accept his fate, but that didn’t make it easier to bear the agony each day. Staring up as the first of the flaming missiles fell towards him, Trent felt true joy flooding his body.
With a thought, he summoned Sevalon’s Revenge to his fleshy hand. Since the day he’d slain the megalodon, he’d not had reason to use this magnificent cutlass. But the Shadow King was a worthy foe.
Black fire and acrid smoke exploded across the ocean’s surface as the missile struck, missing Trent by a mile. He summoned a tidestone into his free hand, the eight-fingered appendage of the ARM.
And then crushed it into sparkling dust, before absorbing the energy into his core.
Three more tidestones met the same fate, the gathering power swelling and surging. Usually he rationed them, siphoning just enough to fuel the tideheart and keep his core functioning. There was no longer a need for such frugality.
More missiles struck, showering him in Chester Saff’s abyssal flames. The acrid smoke clawed at his throat, seeking to drain the air from his lungs.
Trent laughed out loud.
How could you steal what had long been ransacked? His body was rotten from the inside out. His soul seared from decades of blinding light.
If there was one thing his affliction had given him that he didn’t hate, it was his absurdly powerful occupation. The secrets of his modified race and the plague—blight—still eluded him but he was happy to turn his curse to proper use.
The first missile to strike true screamed through the sky, trailing black smoke. He gently swung his cutlass and cleaved it in two, lighting up the ocean behind him in dark fire.
More and more missiles fell until the world was naught but writhing smoke and searing flames. The lulling waves were consumed by infernal fury and then he heard the clap of cannons.
The first shot was precise and he had to twist his body to avoid the smoking steel. The Shadow King’s bombardiers didn’t take potshots.
I’ve had a taste of your fury, Chester, and I have to say I’m disappointed, he mused. Trent knew this was only the opening salvo, but he’d heard legends of the man drowning out the sun.
His targets could only run through the darkness in blind panic as they scrambled to escape his grasp. Weaklings.
Drowning out the sun?
That was impossible… Hide it for a moment, perhaps. But to drown out the sun would take far more power than a mortal man could muster.
Trent turned his gaze further upwards, beyond the curtain of smoky death. He felt the sun’s touch in his very soul, what was once a warming embrace turned to cruel rejection.
The sting of losing such an intimate connection would never fade, but he was satisfied that he could at least still use its power. He’d started life as a thief and it was fitting that he would end it that way.
Another tidestone turned to dust in his palm and he let his core loose, rampaging through his rotting bones. The sun roared at his defiance, refusing its love to a stray child.
Trent didn’t care. He was no longer a Dawnbringer. Blackheart, they called him. They didn’t know the half of it.
Skill up!
Fire Attunement 83 > 84
Blight Resistance ★65 > ★66
Sevalon’s Revenge rattled as he channelled the twisted sunlight into its blade, writhing and rebelling against such foul energy. But he continued to push.
The megalodon’s fang glowed green with the rotten light and the nearby smoke shrank back in fear. Any missiles that struck true were evaporated by the pulsing power that radiated off him in waves.
In the distance he felt the rising storm of arcane power that gathered on each of the nine ships. Not content with mortal weapons, the Shadow King’s elites were preparing to strike.
Trent wouldn’t let them.
He’d tasted their opening and found it lacking. His eyes glowed green, mirroring his blade. The rot that consumed him clamoured and howled, empowered by the very source of his strength as it ate away at his flesh.
He shied away from his own power for this very reason, but he no longer had reason to hold back. Trent Refala had died many times before, but today would be the last.
The Plague Duke of the Dark Sun had risen and in his wake would be nothing but death and decay.
He raised his blade, the dark sunlight gathering at the tip. It would be the first time he’d unleashed this skill with the full weight of his soul behind it. A fiendish grin curled across his face, flashing blackened teeth.
He swung his cutlass, cleaving a festering line in the air.
All those present bore witness to the rising of a second sun, burning its way from the depths.
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