The deck of Shamrock's ship had become a nightmare of angled wood and desperate men.
Reverse Mountain's impossible current drove the vessel upward at a forty-five-degree pitch, the bow pointing toward the grey sky while the stern dug into the churning water below. Sailors clung to ropes, railings, anything that would hold, their faces white with terror and exertion. The world was a cacophony of roaring water, grinding stone, and the constant thunder of falling debris as chunks of the mountain sheared away under the stress of the battle above.
A cannon fired from the starboard battery—a desperate shot aimed at the submarine that climbed alongside them. The ball arced across the gap, trailing smoke, and was met by a streak of light from the submarine's deck. Ember's Sparkler round caught it mid-flight, the explosion a brief flower of orange against the grey. Fragments rained into the water, harmless.
The gunner didn't have time to curse. A chunk of cliff face the size of a small house plummeted past, close enough to clip the rigging, and the ship lurched violently. Men screamed. Ropes snapped. The vessel groaned like a wounded beast.
Through it all, two women circled each other on the sloping deck.
---
Aurélie Nakano Takeko moved with the fluid grace of a predator, her silver hair streaming in the wind, Anathema held low and ready. Her steel-gray eyes were fixed on her opponent, tracking every twitch, every breath. She had not transformed—not yet. The partial shift waited at the edge of her consciousness, ready to be called.
Elvira Jaeger stood twenty feet away, her hybrid form a terrifying fusion of woman and dinosaur. Scales covered her arms and torso. Her face had elongated into something reptilian, her jaws filled with razor teeth. Her tail lashed behind her, slamming against the deck with enough force to splinter wood. In her massive hands, she gripped her greats word—a weapon designed for her transformed strength, now held with casual ease.
The ship shuddered. Both women adjusted their stances without missing a beat, their eyes never leaving each other.
Elvira's lips pulled back from her teeth in something that might have been a smile. "You're brave," she said, her voice distorted by her transformed vocal cords, deeper and more bestial. "I'll give you that. Following your little friend onto my ship, onto my territory."
Aurélie said nothing.
"Or maybe you're just stupid." Elvira took a step forward, testing. "A lone swordswoman against a Celestial Dragon operative? You must not be very highly valued."
Aurélie's expression didn't change. She shifted her grip on Anathema, the blade's edge eager to fulfill its purpose.
Elvira's eyes narrowed. She didn't like the silence. Didn't like that her words were having no effect. She tried again, her voice dropping to something meant to wound.
"I've heard about your kind. The locust woman. They say you're more monster than human now. That the fruit has been eating away at you, turning you into something that belongs in the dirt with the other insects."
Aurélie blinked. Once. Slowly.
"Is that supposed to offend me?"
Her voice was calm, measured, utterly unbothered. It was the voice of someone who had long ago made peace with what she was.
Elvira's jaw tightened. "You think you're above it? Above the disgust? I've seen your kind before—Zoan users who lose themselves. You're one bad transformation away from becoming a mindless swarm."
"And you're one bad transformation away from becoming a dinosaur full-time," Aurélie replied. "At least locusts serve a purpose. What does a Megalosaurus do besides eat and destroy?"
Elvira snarled and charged.
The distance between them vanished in an instant, her massive form covering ground with terrifying speed. The greats word came around in a horizontal arc meant to bisect Aurélie at the waist.
Aurélie moved.
She didn't block—that would be suicide against that kind of force. Instead, she flowed around the strike, her body twisting like water, Anathema flicking out to score a line across Elvira's scaled forearm. The blade bit deep enough to draw blood, black against green scales.
Elvira roared and spun, her tail whipping around to catch Aurélie in the ribs. Aurélie's wing erupted from her back—just the one, partially transformed—and she used it to vault over the attack, landing ten feet up the sloping deck.
The ship jolted again, a massive piece of debris slamming into the water nearby and sending a wave across the deck. Both women fought for balance, found it, and resumed their dance.
Elvira pressed forward, her greats word a blur of motion despite its size. She had trained for decades, had earned her place among the Celestial Vanguard through blood and steel. Her style was brutal, direct, overwhelming—the kind of assault that broke lesser opponents in the first exchange.
Aurélie met her blow for blow, Anathema singing as it deflected and parried. She gave ground when she had to, held firm when she could. Her style was the opposite of Elvira's—economical, patient, waiting for openings rather than creating them through force.
A cannon fired from somewhere below. Ember's answering shot was almost instantaneous, the explosion close enough to shake the ship. Neither woman flinched.
"You fight like a bureaucrat," Elvira spat, her blade hammering down. "Always waiting, always calculating. Where's the passion? Where's the fire?"
Aurélie sidestepped a thrust that would have impaled her, Anathema flicking out to cut at Elvira's wrist. The blade connected, drawing more blood.
"Passion is for poets," Aurélie said. "I'm a swordswoman."
Elvira's eyes blazed. She shifted her stance, her body coiling, and then she exploded forward—not with the sword, but with her whole body. Her massive form crashed into Aurélie, driving her back against the mast. Wood splintered. The ship groaned.
For a moment, they were locked together, Elvira's jaws inches from Aurélie's face, her breath hot and foul. The dinosaur's lips pulled back from her teeth in a victorious snarl.
"Any last words, insect?"
Aurélie's eyes shifted.
The transformation was subtle at first—just a change in color, steel-gray becoming something else, something compound and multifaceted. Then her eyes grew, expanded, became the massive iridescent orbs of her full locust form. Elvira stared into them and saw herself reflected a thousand times, a thousand tiny Elviras, all looking afraid.
"No," Aurélie said. "But you might want some."
Her wings erupted fully, four of them, shimmering membranes that caught the wind and pushed. She drove herself forward, out of Elvira's grip, and brought Anathema around in a rising arc that caught the dinosaur under the jaw.
Elvira's head snapped back. Blood flew from her mouth.
She staggered, caught herself, and when she looked at Aurélie again, there was something new in her eyes. Respect. And fear.
"You—" she started.
A chunk of mountain slammed into the water ten feet from the ship. The wave that followed swept across the deck, tearing sailors from their holds, sending loose cannons sliding. Both women were lifted, thrown, and came down fighting.
They hit the deck running, blades meeting in a shower of sparks. The ship tilted further, the angle becoming almost impossible, but they didn't stop. Couldn't stop. This was beyond choice now—this was survival.
Elvira's great sword carved a trench in the deck as Aurélie dodged. Aurélie's Anathema opened a line across Elvira's thigh. Blood mixed with the spray, washed away, spilled again.
They circled, panting, glaring, neither willing to yield an inch.
"You're better than I thought," Elvira admitted. The words cost her something.
Aurélie's compound eyes glittered. "And you're worse than I expected. All that rage, all that power—and still not enough."
Elvira snarled and came again.
The duel continued, neither winning, neither losing, two masters locked in a dance that would only end when one of them made a mistake.
Above them, the cliffs raced past. The summit drew closer. And somewhere in the grey sky, two other warriors clashed in a battle that would decide everything.
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