The wind rushed past Aarav's ears as he fell. Below him, Vorlag's axe was a descending crescent of death. Grak was on his knees, defeated. This wasn't a choice. It was a reaction. The scared boy from the pond was gone. In his place was a warrior holding a borrowed blade.*
**Aarav** landed on the pier, his knees bending to absorb the shock, just as **Kael** had taught him. He didn't hesitate. He lunged forward.
"GET AWAY FROM HIM!"
His sword, **Kael's** sword, met **Vorlag's** descending axe not with a block, but with a sharp, angled parry.
# ***KRRR-AAAANG!***
The sound was like a thunderclap. Sparks flew like fireworks. The impact sent a shockwave up **Aarav's** arm that rattled his bones. He was thrown back several steps, his feet sliding on the rough wood of the pier. **Vorlag** hadn't even flinched.
"A gnat," the beastly warrior grunted from inside his helmet, his voice a low growl. "You have courage, boy. I will enjoy crushing it."
He swung his massive axe again, not with precision, but with pure, overwhelming force. The air whistled as the blade cut through it.
**Aarav** didn't try to meet it. He dodged, rolling to the side. The axe slammed into the pier, shattering the wood and sending splinters everywhere.
*"His left side is slow after a heavy swing!"* **Kael's** voice shouted from the ship. *"Use his momentum!"*
**Vorlag** pulled his axe from the wood and charged again. "Stand still and die!"
This time, as **Aarav** dodged, he felt it. A warmth in his palm.
**The Blade Sigil** pulsed with a soft, silver light.
Suddenly, he didn't just see **Vorlag**. He saw the *flaws* in his form. He saw a tiny, almost invisible gap in the armor near his neck, a spot that moved awkwardly with every heavy swing. It was a single point of failure.
*'That's it,'* he thought.
But getting to it was impossible. **Vorlag** was a whirlwind of steel and rage.
"Aarav!" It was **Liora's** voice. She was on the ship's railing, her face pale but determined. She thrust her hand forward. **"NOW!"**
A tiny, brilliant spark of green light shot from her fingertips and exploded right in front of **Vorlag's** helmet. It wasn't powerful, but it was blinding.
"ARGH!" **Vorlag** roared, momentarily stunned.
That was the opening.
But as **Aarav** prepared to lunge, a wounded roar came from his side. **Grak**, bleeding and on one knee, threw himself forward and slammed his body into **Vorlag's** leg. The giant stumbled, his balance completely broken for one crucial second.
"DO IT, BOY!" **Grak** bellowed.
**Aarav** didn't think. He moved.
He lunged forward, not at **Vorlag's** chest, but low, under his swinging arms. He spun, bringing his sword up in a reverse grip. The blade slid perfectly into the gap in the armor at the base of **Vorlag's** neck.
There was no grand explosion. Just a soft *shlick* and a gurgling sound.
**Vorlag** froze. He slowly turned his massive helmet towards **Aarav**, a look of pure disbelief in his glowing red eyes. Then, he fell. Like a great tree, he crashed onto the pier, silent.
The remaining Syndicate guards stared in shock. Their champion was dead.
**Aarav** stood panting, his sword dripping. He had done it.
He turned to help **Grak**. The giant blacksmith was lying on the pier, a pool of blood growing around him. The wound on his shoulder was deep and fatal.
"G-Grak…" **Aarav** knelt beside him.
**Grak** coughed, blood speckling his beard. He looked at **Aarav**, and for the first time, there was no taunt in his eyes, only a deep, weary respect.
"Heh… not bad… for a pretty boy…" he rasped.
"Don't talk. **Liora** can heal you!" **Aarav** pleaded.
"No…" **Grak** shook his head. "My time… is done." He grabbed **Aarav's** arm with his good hand, his grip surprisingly strong. "Listen to me, boy. **Elara**… she doesn't just want power… she wants to remake this world… in her own empty image. You have to… stop her."
He coughed again. His breathing grew shallow. He looked past **Aarav**, towards the smoking sky of his home.
"Protect… Iron Reef… Protect… this world…"
His hand went limp. His eyes stared blankly at the sky.
**Grak was gone.**
A cold silence fell over **Aarav**. He had won the fight, but it felt like the greatest loss of his life.
"AARAV! THEY'RE REGROUPING! WE HAVE TO GO, NOW!" **Mara** screamed from the ship.
The Syndicate guards were recovering from their shock, their shouts filling the air as they charged.
**Kael** jumped down from the ship. He didn't say a word. He grabbed **Aarav** by the shoulder and pulled him back towards the ship, grabbing his fallen sword on the way.
"No! We can't just leave him!" **Aarav** struggled.
"He's gone, Aarav! We honor him by surviving!" **Kael's** voice was harsh but necessary.
They scrambled back onto the *Starling Gale*. **Mara** was already at the helm, the Aether-engine roaring to life. The ship lurched and lifted into the air, just as the first guards reached the pier.
They ascended into the smog-filled sky, leaving the pier, the bodies, and their fallen friend behind.
A somber quiet fell over the deck. **Liora** was silently crying. **Mara's** face was a mask of stone. **Kael** stared out at the horizon.
**Aarav** looked at the sword in his hand—the sword he had used to kill **Vorlag**. Then he looked at the cleansed Tide Compass.
Its golden needle was no longer spinning. It pointed steadily, towards the northeast. Towards their next destination.
They had escaped. But the price of their journey had just become painfully real.