— If I lose... I just won't become the King of the Pirates.
These words pounded in my head with the same force as the chains tearing through the air behind me.
— Think, think, damn it! — I ducked as another chain smashed against the cliff with a thunderous crack, rocks crumbling, dust flaring up.
He's not letting up. He's close.
— I have to go back... to where it all began. That cave. We're not far.
I scanned the terrain frantically — yes! There it is, past the ridge! Just need to reach it…
— Spring Snipe! — I roared, coiling my legs into powerful springs.
And launched.
The air screamed in my ears, trees blurred into green smears, and the horizon vanished. I flew hundreds of meters like a bullet, ricocheting off slopes and boulders.But…
CLICK!
A chain struck near me, rebounding off stone. He's still behind. I see him in the glint — Mad, flying on his chains like a spider, gaining on me in mid-air.
— You've got to be kidding me!.. — I growled, pushing faster. Just a bit more… almost there…
There — the cave.
The one. The entrance gapes like an open jaw. The place where it all started.
I spun midair and shouted:
— HEY, FREAKSHOW!
— Your treasure's here! — I called out, diving inside.
A lure. He can't resist.
Behind me — a burst of movement. Chains snapped, and Mad shot in after me like a harpoon, exploding dust and echo with his scream.
— You're not getting away! — he roared.
I felt the cave tremble with his rage.
But now — this was my arena.
Low ceiling. Narrow walls. Stone outcrops. Perfect.
— You want to catch me? Try.I tensed my legs — springs wound tight.CLICK!First point — side wall. I ricochet.Second click — ceiling.Third — floor.Fourth — vertical edge.
Fifth… sixth… seventh…
Every strike of my foot was a wind-up. Every surface — a spring on the verge of exploding.
I could feel the speed building. My body mass turning into a kinetic wave.
— Spring Hopper… engaged.
The cave shuddered like the ribcage of a beast.
Rocks boomed from chain impacts. Mad was already inside, chains spiraling around him like living serpents. They whistled, snapped forward, searching for me — but I was already gone.
— What?! Where are you?! — he barked.
A sound bounced off the wall. Right? No — left. Another click, another impulse. He raised his arm, chain cracked through the air — and hit nothing.
— Quit hiding! — his chain pierced a stalactite and shattered it to dust.
And then he went on defense. All his chains coiled around him, forming a dense, woven armor. He stood in the center of the cave, turning into a spiked sphere.
— Try and break through, bastard! — he panted.
I sensed the moment. He froze. Closed up. Banking on me tiring out.
He miscalculated.
I gathered one last impulse. Another ricochet. More acceleration. Target — dead center.
Springs wound to the limit. My whole body — a bomb about to detonate.
And I fired.— Surprise, Mad.A fist, packed with stored energy, slammed into his shield. The sound wasn't just loud — it was defining.
Metal screamed. The armor cracked. A shockwave tore through the cave.
The chains woven into his armor couldn't hold. They unraveled like threads. Mad was hurled across the cave, slammed into a rock spire. A crash. Dust. Rockfall.
I panted hard. My whole body burned from the strain — but I stood. I broke through.
From the rubble, Mad tried to rise. Unsteady, slow. Covered in blood, his armor torn, chains dangling from his arms.
— You think this is the end?… — he shouted into the cave.
I looked at him.
— Absolutely!
He didn't even get to respond. I'd already coiled my legs, bent my knees —
And jumped. The final push.
— Spring Snipe!
I slammed into him with everything I had — speed, mass, momentum.
The cave walls couldn't handle it. The shockwave collapsed the ceiling. Stones started falling. The passage was being buried.
Time to get out.
Sabo's Side
Bram roared and stepped forward again, like a steel press on legs. I jumped up, brushing off dust, and grabbed the pipe again. My ears rang — not from the hit, but from the tension. Debris flew around us, and it felt like the whole hillside trembled — as if echoing the fight below.
But right now I didn't give a damn about the hill. I had one priority — that walking tank called Bram.
He charged with his hand out — trying to grab my head. I dodged sideways, slid on one knee, struck his Achilles with the pipe — and still, barely a dent.
— What are you made of? Iron? — I gasped, then ducked another swing, this one with a full spin. The air whistled.
Time to change tactics.
I back off fast — switch to close combat but not head-on. Bram's not someone you punch through.
But I'm faster. So I start the dance:strike — bounce out, approach — roll in, combo — vanish.
Sweat dripped, breath sharp, but the thought in my head was clearer:
Find the weak spot, or he crushes you.
I saw an opening. He swung, exposing his elbow for a second. I drove the pipe straight into the joint. He growled — for real, finally.
— YES! — I yelled, leaping again. This time a blow to the temple — he staggered. Then the throat
— sharp, brutal. And finally, the knee again. Same spot.
Bram dropped. Not fully down — still fighting — but lower now.
Gin's Side
He stepped back, spun both tonfas in his hands — heavy as short maces — and dropped into a low stance.
— Alright, the dance is over. Now I break you, — Gin exhaled.
Ram charged like a living battering ram — slow but each step shook the ground. He raised his fists for a powerful blow.
But Gin was already moving.
Two tonfas — not for finesse, but to crush armor. He stepped aside, letting the strike pass, and immediately countered — both weapons thudding into Ram's ribcage. Ram flinched but stayed up.
He reached to grab him — Gin blocked it with a cross move, using the weight of his tonfas to smash one into the shoulder, the other into the ribs.
— You're not the only strong one here, — Gin grunted, sidestepping again.
Ram swung wide — and missed. His heavy fist whooshed by, and Gin ducked under, striking the back of the knee. Ram buckled — and took a double hit to the jaw and temple like twin sledgehammers.
— Fall, — Gin whispered.
But Ram still stood. Staggered, growled, stepped forward — and in that moment, Gin crossed the tonfas like blades and struck both sides of Ram's head.
The sound was like striking an anvil. Ram froze. And dropped forward like a felled pillar.
Gin panted, blood still running down his leg. He spat to the side and said:
— Damn, your skull's an anvil.
Karin's Side
— Alright, archer. Let's play.
Can't leave cover — too risky, so…
I throw a rock from the left. Noise — leaves, branch. An arrow flashes. Shot one. Miss.
— Thanks, — I whisper, crawling lower.
Now again — from the right, I toss a handkerchief with a knife, as bait.
A flicker, twitch in the shadows.
Second shot — whoosh! — right into the cloth.
— Two. Less than ten left by the quiver, — I whisper, listening to the creak of her bowstring.
She's still composed, but now — she rushed. I'm in rhythm now.
Which means… time to send her on a false trail.
To the left, deep into the bushes, I toss a rock — hard, angled, like I jumped there.
Crack! Rustle!
But I'm already darting right, under broken branches.
— One… two… three!
Third arrow — where I should have fallen.
— Missed, — I grin. — You still think you're leading.
Now I'm almost at her position — she's above, I'm below, in the shadows. But now her angle's awkward. She needs to move — or I'll flank her.
She rises. Mistake.
I instantly toss a belt buckle — flash! Her eyes squint.
And I burst forward. Fast — like a whip. She can't reload in time. Reaches for an arrow — but I'm already at her feet.
Lunge forward — staff in both hands, strike to the thigh — she stumbles.
Another — to the elbow. Her bow flies.
She falls, but rolls, draws a knife.
— Stubborn, — I mutter. — But too late.
We grapple — she's dangerous up close, but lacks endurance. Her strikes are short, fast — but poorly timed.
I control her wrist, twist — the blade clatters out.
She tries to choke me — too late. I strike — heel to ribs.
A dry crack, she folds.
Second hit — knee to the gut. She exhales, almost collapses.
I don't let her. I twist her by the shoulder and...
a strike to the neck with the edge of the staff
Dull thud. Her legs give way.
— Drunkard.
She drops into the grass, gasping — eyes closing.