The Curator
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Chapter 9
🕑 Added 2025-07-12 05:49:24 +0000 UTCI watched with idle amusement as Rafael flailed in the water, his desperate attempts to reach the elven ship growing more pitiful by the second. He looked less like a man swimming and more like a wounded animal paddling in circles, trapped in an endless struggle against the indifferent waves. A chuckle almost escaped me when I realized the elves aboard the ship hadn’t even noticed the commotion. Impressive, really — to cause such a ruckus and still slip under the radar of those long-eared sentries, famed for their sharp senses.
But the humor drained from me the instant I spotted movement. Just a few meters behind Rafael, the elf with the ornate sword surfaced, gasping for breath, his soaked hair plastered to his face like strands of seaweed. He locked eyes on Rafael with the cold precision of a predator marking its prey. I could see the flicker of Aether gathering at his feet, solidifying the water beneath him so he could walk across it like some smug aquatic saint. That, however, was something I couldn't allow.
With a lazy flick of my wrist, the water around his legs froze solid, the ice expanding outward until it locked his lower half in place like a fly in amber — an inelegant three-by-three meter block, trapping him slow and helpless. That danger, at least, was handled. I turned my attention to the elven ship itself. Rafael would need a clear deck if he was ever going to make it aboard.
A blink later, I stood directly behind one of the unsuspecting elves stretched out on the deck, staring blankly at the sky — unaware of the wooden plank swinging downward toward his head. I didn’t have time for style points, not with a clock ticking and no audience to applaud me. Four satisfying bonks later, the deck was clear of conscious elves, their bodies sprawled like discarded marionettes. Even the one dozing peacefully in the crow's nest earned himself a farewell tap on the head — better safe than sorry.
I wasn’t done yet. Grabbing one of the rigging ropes, I laced it with an enchantment designed to disrupt their connection to the Aether. As long as the rope made skin contact, their magic would be nothing but a distant dream. Like a spider spinning its web, I wrapped the elves tightly, leaving only their heads peeking out from their new cocooned prison. Satisfied, I channeled a burst of wind into the sails, adjusting the ship’s course. Finally, I dropped a rope over the port side — a little invitation for Rafael, should he manage to stop drowning.
With everything set, I let the ship drift onward, its hull slicing through the still, crystal-clear ocean. It would even pass right over the elf still floundering in his frozen prison. Well — you can’t please everyone.
Another blink carried me high into the crow’s nest of the second ship, the familiar weight of my trusty wooden plank resting on my shoulder like a lumberjack preparing for a day’s work. Below, the elves scurried back and forth across the deck, wild-eyed and lost, hunting shadows that weren’t there. I figured I’d help them along.
I clapped the young elf posted next to me on the shoulder — the poor soul nearly jumped out of his skin — and in the same breath, blinked to the bow, where another elf stood alone, staring off into the sea. One swift bonk, and he crumpled like a puppet with its strings cut. The sound wasn’t exactly deafening, but it was sharp enough to snap the other elves’ attention straight to me.
I greeted them with a friendly wave, flashing my most charming smile, just as the first barrage of spells came flying my way. Naturally, I teleported before any could reach me, reappearing in the rigging, dangling casually like I hadn’t a care in the world.
From there, the ropes came alive on my command, lashing out at one particular elf — the one clutching a red-enchanted sword, its ruby core glinting like a second sun. The rope looped around his sword arm and, with one sharp tug, I sent him soaring skyward. He must’ve cleared the first fifty meters in under two seconds — quite the exhilarating ride, though I doubt he appreciated the view.
While the elf was busy becoming a new star in the sky, I blinked back to the deck, delivering a heavy kick to another elf's spine, the sharp crack of bones folding under my boot echoing across the deck. Timing was everything. I teleported upward again just as the ruby-sword elf reached the peak of his arc, his scream of panic still hanging in the air. One final, elegant bonk silenced him, and his body tumbled downward like a stone dropped in a well.
Letting myself fall for a few seconds, I surveyed the scene. I was, admittedly, running out of creative ways to knock these elves unconscious. Killing them would’ve offered more variety, but knocking them out — ah, that had style. Besides, I couldn’t afford to sink the ship. I could still sense several bound human life forces below deck, huddled together like frightened mice.
One blink later, I appeared below deck, where the scene was less charming. A brawny elf stood over a young woman, his fists red from repeatedly striking her. His rage had blinded him to everything, including me. A woman aboard a sailor’s ship — rare, to say the least. Whatever reason he had for the beating didn’t matter. I had already passed judgment.
I seized him by the throat, my grip like iron, and with a sharp motion of my free hand, blasted a hole through the side of the ship — perfectly circular, no wider than my own leg. Before the elf could utter a spell or even draw his blade, I teleported us both to the breach, and with one smooth, merciless shove, I stuffed him into the hole. I forced him through until his head and torso jutted out the other side, leaving the rest wedged snugly inside. A tight fit, but effective. I couldn’t let the ship sink, after all.
The freed sailors stared at me in wide-eyed silence, still paralyzed by shock, struggling to comprehend the whirlwind that had just torn through their world. With another flick of my hand, I shattered the restraints around their wrists and ankles. Then, turning to the battered woman, I placed the wooden plank gently into her trembling hands, offering her the brightest, most encouraging smile I could muster.
And with that, I vanished once more.
I materialized once more atop the ship’s crow’s nest, right beside the now thoroughly terrified young sailor. Flashing him an approving smile, I stepped off the edge and dropped toward the deck below. I had, unfortunately, lost my favorite weapon — but someone else seemed to be putting it to excellent use at the moment. Landing with a thud in the middle of the deck, I didn’t hesitate. My legs carried me in a sprint toward two nearby elves.
One of them — an older fellow with silver hair — raised his hand, the air around him rippling as he drew in the Aether, preparing a spell. The other was a strikingly beautiful female with fiery red hair and a pair of daggers poised to strike. Normally, knives against bare fists would be an uneven match. For me, however, it wasn’t even a contest. I had danced through such skirmishes long before the Prince had ever... improved me.
In this particular case, I barely spared the dagger-wielding elf a glance. Pivoting smoothly, I snatched the old man’s arm just as he released the gathered Aether. With the gentlest twist, I redirected his aim — and the blast of pure force struck the red-haired elf square in the chest, launching her like a ragdoll over the ship’s railing and into the open sea.
“Sira, no!” the old elf howled, his voice thick with shock and horror, his eyes wide and disbelieving. I doubted they were related, but I’ve always considered myself a fair and sporting soul — so I flung him after her. His scream stretched into a long, comical wail that only ended when he performed a rather unwilling, though perfectly executed, belly-flop on the ocean’s surface.
Leaning over the railing, I caught sight of another familiar face: the poor elf I’d earlier stuffed halfway through the ship’s hull, still lodged like a cork in a bottle. His face was a shade paler now, contorted in pain and rage, and his mouth poured forth a steady stream of colorful obscenities — most of them concerning my ancestry. I couldn’t let such insults pass unanswered.
With a casual flick of my fingers, I stirred the ocean’s surface, summoning waves to rise and fall. The first swell slammed into the trapped elf’s face, forcing him to choke down a hearty gulp of saltwater. The reaction was immediate — he gagged, retched, and vomited violently, only to scream once more as something struck him from the inside. I recognized the sound of my loyal wooden plank landing a second blow. Apparently, the young lady below deck had quite the arm.
Before I could further appreciate her craftsmanship, the sharp, crackling hum of an approaching fireball reached my ears. I teleported away at the last possible moment, the flames licking at the space where I’d just stood. Reassembling my form wasn’t on today’s agenda, after all. Grinning, I watched as another wave fed the unlucky elf another mouthful — this time with his own bile floating on top.
I reappeared behind the elf who had hurled the fireball, just in time to hear, from across the ship, the unmistakable sound of more wet, miserable gagging. I seized the robe of another nearby elf, spun on my heel, and — with all the grace of a practiced showman — hurled him high into the air, watching his flailing silhouette arc beautifully against the sky.
At the same moment, I called upon the rigging ropes I’d infused earlier with Aether, letting them lash out like serpents. One rope coiled itself around the ankle of another elf and, with a sharp pull, launched her skyward to join her airborne companion. It was around this time the remaining elves abandoned subtlety entirely, rushing me en masse, their faces carved from stone and eyes burning with lethal intent.
One of them lunged, sword swinging, while four others formed a perimeter. Three nocked arrows, drawing their bows with mechanical precision, while the last began channeling an ice spell through his staff. Now that was interesting. Freezing the deck would certainly offer me some new opportunities for entertainment.
Truth be told, I was beginning to run low on creative ways to dispose of my long-eared friends. Launching them fifty meters into the sea never got old — a timeless classic, really — but a new trick had recently come to mind. I doubted any of them had the strength or wit to dispel gravitational manipulation, and the results were always worth the effort. First, though, I needed the right tool.
Enhancing my body once more, I moved with a speed that blurred the world around me, snatching an arrow out of the air as it sliced toward my chest. Without breaking stride, I teleported below deck — and what greeted me could only be described as grotesque comedy. The rescued humans had apparently taken to lining up, one by one, using my wooden plank to beat the poor elf still wedged in the hole squarely on the backside with all their might. Each strike earned a fresh grunt of pain, followed by the faint sound of retching from the other side of the ship.
Perhaps, I thought, I’d gone a tad too far this time.
“Greetings, good people!” I announced cheerfully, plucking the plank from their hands. “I’ll be borrowing this again. Here — a fine replacement.” I offered them the mithral arrow, its barbed head glinting maliciously under the dim light. The humans hesitated, but accepted the new tool. Fair trade, I’d say.
With the plank reclaimed, I blinked back to the deck, arriving just in time to see the ice spell collide with the spot where I’d been standing seconds before. The blast didn’t freeze the deck as I’d hoped, but instead erupted into a jagged half-meter cube of ice, shattering the nearby railing with a sound like a forest snapping under a storm.
The elves hadn’t even turned their heads yet when another shriek echoed from below — the same elf, howling in agony after yet another helping of seawater, likely mixed with his own bile. Perhaps handing the humans that arrow had been a touch excessive. Then again, I’ve always been a firm believer in free will and creative expression. Unlucky for the one stuck in the hole.
Turning back to the fray, I noticed the elf I had launched earlier had begun his descent, his limbs flailing helplessly. The rope around his leg had snagged on the mast, leaving him swinging in wide, nauseating circles like a badly designed carnival ride. She already looked rather green, but I couldn’t resist adding a little extra flair. A sharp gust of wind slammed into her, hurling her clear across the deck and sending her tumbling more than fifteen meters to the opposite side.
The remaining elves had clearly grown tired of underestimating me. I watched as they flooded their bodies with Aether, enhancing their speed and strength, their movements now sharper and more fluid — but that only made the game more interesting.
It was something I should’ve done from the very beginning, but, on the other hand, I hadn’t even properly introduced myself yet. A minor oversight, of course — introductions could wait until the other humans gathered on deck. Repeating myself wasn’t a habit I intended to start.
For now, there were still five elves hanging back: three archers and two mages, their bows strung and spells simmering, while eight of their comrades charged straight at me, weapons gleaming and faces carved from stone. I met them head-on, striding toward the oncoming blades with a grin. After all, I possessed the superior weapon: a plain, unassuming wooden plank. Enchanted swords adorned with ruby filigree were no match for such raw, uncompromising elegance.
But instead of colliding headfirst with the first elf, I let my body drop low, sliding across the worn timber deck, brushing past his leg. My left hand grazed his calf as I tossed the wooden plank high into the air with my other. The moment my palm met his skin, I altered gravity — anchoring his right foot to the deck as though it had fused with the wood itself. The elf crumpled awkwardly to the floor, cursing as his body lost the battle against his own unbalanced weight.
Even as the plank spun lazily overhead, an arrow hissed through the air toward me. I caught it mid-flight with a casual flick of the wrist, driving it into the gut of another elf lunging from my left. He didn’t even have time to register the betrayal before I pivoted and brought the wooden plank down on his face, the sharp crack of wood on bone filling the air. Two more blades came swinging for my neck, forcing me to vanish in a blink, reappearing a few feet above to avoid their desperate slashes.
Below me, the elf with the weighted foot was still swearing loudly, no doubt questioning his life choices. I landed softly and, for my next act, hurled the wooden plank — like a javelin — toward one of the mages. The poor fool had been too busy channeling another oversized ice spell, as if this one would fare better than the last. It didn’t. Wood met skull with a hollow, satisfying thud, and the mage slumped sideways.
Blinking back to ground level, I reached for another target: an elf hefting a warhammer. With a single touch, I altered his personal gravity, making his body almost feather-light. He wouldn’t exactly float off like a lost balloon, but it was enough. Grabbing him by the arm, I flung him across the deck, where he collided with another elf in an undignified tangle of limbs.
Gravity was a glorious thing — a versatile tool in the right hands. The real comedy, however, came when you flipped it entirely. If I reversed an elf’s gravity, they’d fall sideways, helplessly flailing as “up” betrayed them. But for now, I settled for making select limbs so heavy they glued their owners to the deck like statues.
I danced between the crowd, casually tapping legs, arms, and chests, each touch anchoring another elf in place, locking them mid-strike, wide-eyed and powerless. Occasionally, I plucked an arrow from the air — I was feeling generous today and refrained from immediately returning them to their senders.
Once every sword-wielding elf lay trapped by their own weighted limbs, I leisurely retrieved my trusty plank. One by one, I knocked out the remaining archers and, for good measure, the persistent ice mage who’d apparently never learned more than one spell. Each blow delivered a crisp bonk — simple, satisfying, effective.
The deck had grown rather noisy, a symphony of curses and groans spilling from the helpless elves, punctuated by the occasional high-pitched scream from the unfortunate soul still wedged in the hole, his misery washing over the ship like background music.
With the perimeter secured and the stage set, it was time to retrieve my human audience. Below deck, I motioned for them to follow me topside, deliberately keeping my gaze averted from the elf lodged in the hull. The woman, however, was less sentimental. She retrieved the mithral arrow still embedded deeply in the elf’s backside, twisting it with a cold smile before ascending the stairs. Another scream split the air, sharp and shrill enough to make the wood shudder.
Getting a little annoying, that one, I mused as the last of the humans assembled on deck. Their wide, disbelieving eyes roamed over the defeated elves — bodies anchored, limbs twisted, one dangling from a rope, unconscious, another still spinning high above like some deranged living wind chime.
I leaned lazily against the mast, arms folded, and let my gaze drift over the scattered elves, drinking in the moment. When the silence hung just long enough, I began.
"Ah, it’s hard being me, truly. The world keeps sending its finest, and I, well... I keep knocking them flat. Over and over again. You’d think by now they’d learn, wouldn’t you? But alas, no.
Greatness, you see, is a language few ever master. I was born fluent, molded by it. Emperor once, legend forever. The crown may be lost, but the man? Unchanged. Unrivaled. Unstoppable.
My brilliance could blind the sun on its brightest day. My charm? Irresistible, of course. My reflexes? Unfair, really. And as for my sense of style... well, let’s not even open that masterpiece of a conversation."
I let the words settle, stepping away from the mast and strolling toward an elf sprawled limp on the deck, unconscious but still breathing. I placed a hand lightly on his head, as though offering a blessing, and continued.
"You fought well, little one — or at least, you thought you did. But how could you ever hope to match perfection in motion? To stand against the living embodiment of excellence? Against me?
I am Tiberius. Emperor. Genius. Warrior. Heartbreaker. The universe’s most blatant display of favoritism.
And today, as ever, the favorite... is me."
With that final proclamation, I raised my arms, seizing control of the ship’s gravity. Slowly, the vessel lifted from the waves, groaning under the strain as the sea slipped away beneath it. The humans clung to the railing, wide-eyed and pale.
"Now, dear friends, it’s time to depart. Destiny waits for no one." I gestured toward the second ship gliding ahead in the distance.
"Uh... how exactly are we supposed to get there?" the woman asked, her voice calm but edged with tension. Brave one, that. "We’re already over ten meters in the air."
"Simple!" I replied, beaming. "Just jump. Keep your feet together before impact, avoid landing on your stomach, and you’ll be fine. Allow me to demonstrate."
I reached for one of the sailors, grabbed him by the collar, and effortlessly tossed him over the railing. His scream started high and sharp, then cut off the moment he splashed into the sea below. He surfaced, coughing but alive. Encouraged by the example, I threw four more in rapid succession before the rest started jumping on their own.
Pleased with myself, I vanished once more, reappearing beside Rafael, who stood aboard the elf ship, staring in mute disbelief at the spectacle unfolding before him.
"What... have you done?" he asked, eyes wide, voice hollow.
From where we stood, the scene played out like some absurd painting: the ship floating fifteen meters above the water, humans diving off like lemmings, an elf’s head still poking out from the hull, vomiting in endless, miserable cycles, while another elf spun around the mast with such speed he could’ve passed for an experimental wind turbine.
I tilted my head, watching the chaos for a moment longer, and finally gave a sheepish smile.
"Alright, I might’ve gone a bit too far this time," I admitted, just as the ship gently bumped over the poor elf with the legs frozen in a icecube paddeling on the surface, producing one final, muted thunk.
Comments
Jaden Smith
Thanks for the chapter
Jennifer Leigh
there were still four elves hanging back: three archers and two mages Unless you're doing annoying, special math, 3+2=5 doesn't work. 😉
