Brutal Resistance

Each of his dainty, worn-down fingers gripped into the wood. His nails began slightly peeling off, dousing Syllian in agony.

Waves of water flashed over the edge of The Adler, drowning them all in its demented ferocious brutality. Stabilising his body, Syllian shifted himself around, turning his back toward the incoming human wave.

"Hold!"

Allen roared to Syllian.

The sound of flesh colliding sunk beneath the sound of crashing lightning.

'Gagh!'

Aching growls slipped through his lips.

Syllian felt like his spine was about to snap in half. Fortunately, only one person slammed into him.

Feeling the man's hands wrap around his waist, the person slowly regained consciousness and crawled to Syllian's side, clasping onto the barrier.

The person let out wheezing breaths, one of his ribs had cracked.

"Lanner!"

Dripping brown hair and dimmed brown eyes, the fake identical twin of Allen was the one who slammed into him.

The boy glanced at him as he heaved painful breaths through his lungs.

"You good?!"

Lanner didn't bother responding and Syllian didn't push him to either.

Only after asking the boy if he was good did Syllian realise the idiocy of the question.

Of course he wasn't.

The surging whirlpool was right in front of their eyes now that The Adler was running parallel with it.

'Not good.'

That turn only delayed the inevitable, they were still getting dragged into the enormous swirling eye.

And this was only the prelude, the main course was about to arrive.

"To arms men!"

The Captain's voice ruptured the chaos, reigniting the damp flames of war residing in each crew member.

Bang!

The door leading to the lower deck shot open.

Clattering noises of metal slapping against metal filtered across The Adler, the hymn of steel reverberating as other members frothed up from the innards of the beast.

In their hands were; maces, longswords, shortswords, spears, shields, and hammers.

Tossing the weaponry across the ground, the logistics members regurgitated weapon after weapon from the mouth of The Adler.

Like moths drawn to the flames of war, everyone up above rushed into the assortment of weaponry in a feeding frenzy.

The banquet of steel sang songs of glory.

Syllian himself had followed the mob and picked up a shortsword, and a shield fit for his size.

Gripping the unfamiliar grip of the slightly blunted shortsword, he weighed the small shield on his left arm accordingly.

Syllian could already imagine the slaughter that was about to occur. And this time, he would be one of many warriors marching into the maws of the god of death.

Beside him, Lanner, who had a limp in his walk and an extremely pale face, held a mace and shield, and Allen gripped a hammer and shield.

It looks like he wasn't the only one who understood the importance of a shield as an untrained human.

This wasn't the first fight Syllian had been in.

But it was certainly going to be the first where his life could be cut short by the measliest of mistakes.

And that scared him.

He hadn't even seen the smallest sight of the incoming enemy, but the fact that there was an incoming enemy scared him.

Death.

It scared him.

Thud!

Smacking his face with the end of the shield, a vivid red line appeared on his left cheek.

"Wake up!"

In the short time he was here, Syllian had subtly tricked his mind without even realising it.

He had subconsciously tricked himself into believing the Trial of Ruin was a battle of wits and trickery.

But it wasn't.

The Trial of Ruin didn't mould itself to fit his beliefs.

Instead, it moulded him to fit its goal.

Whatever that goal may be.

If there ever was one, that is, fuck knows why the Net of Ruin even exists.

"Let's go!" Allen tapped him with the butt of his hammer and pointed his head to the barrier on the left side of the ship, a point close to the stairs leading to the stern.

"Why there?!"

The boy shrugged his shoulders, "Better to be close to Captain!"

Syllian felt his throat sore slightly from all the shouting, but he didn't have much of a choice. The sound of the crashing lightning combined with the waves relentlessly smashing into the hull of the ship was too loud to talk over with a normal volume.

"Got it!"

Lanner silently followed them from behind with a limp in his walk, hissing with every breath.

All the combat-ready crew members had evenly spread around the ship, ready to guard from any attack.

Standing right next to the stairs, Syllian suddenly had a memory return to him.

'This might be a tomb worse than my home.'

"READY!"

The Captain yelled his lungs out, took in another deep breath, pulled his ordinary-looking revolver out, and shouted his final order.

"FROM THE WATERS!"

Then, all hell broke loose.

Syllian took one look at the frothing, eery dark waters.

But...

'...That's not water.'

What he thought was water below them, wasn't water.

Three arms grew out of their petite bodies, two from the shoulders like normal humans, but the third grew from the shoulder blades, curling around their body to the front like a crane.

At the end of each hand were three fingers ending in glinting, obsidian claws.

A main head sat on their necks but-

Many faces covered every inch of their body, an amalgamation of faces littered with grief, horror, relief, confusion...

-The list was endless and each face was dotted with dazzling crimson eyes.

Their bodies were less than a metre tall, with two legs ripping out of their torsos from vividly nauseating angles.

Every inch, every angle of their flesh beneath their black skin was covered in squirming worms rippling like muscles.

Syllian thought he was ready to face whatever came out and survive.

He wasn't.

Not enough to survive.

Clatter.

Clatter. Clatter. Clatter.

Syllian thought he was hearing the sound of his teeth clattering three times, but no, to his left and right, respectively Lanner, closer to the stairs for more protection, and Allen to his right.

They too, were quivering.

'Fuck me sideways, no, fuck us all sideways!'

The swaying ship shuddered as dozens of claws gripped the hull, the wooden flooring between them convulsing with every second.

Crack-

Incessant drumming danced about the hull, the shrieks of the incoming abominations, Mutants, relishing in the scent of incoming mayhem.

Ploughing through his dread, Syllian stepped up to the edge.

Pointing his shield at an angle facing the incoming wave, he placed his slightly heavy shortsword beside it.

He wasn't some tactical genius, nor a combat master.

His positioning was clumsy; his feet planted unevenly and could slip at any moment, and his grip on the sword was improper.

Nothing about him screamed 'combat genius'.

Allen raised his hammer beside him, also lowering his shield at an angle.

Lanner followed through too, albeit his location was positioned slightly higher on the steps.

"F-finch, r-r-r-ready?!"

A slipshod smile plastered itself on Allen's face.

"As ever!"

Gritting his teeth, Syllian wiped his hair to the side with his wet sleeve and focused his eyes on the abominations.

Boom-! Boom-! Boom-!

"Fight!"

"Fig-!"

"Defend-!"

Beneath them, at the lower deck where a portion of the Gunners were situated, the battle had already begun.

But Syllian couldn't see it, it was impossible to look through the horde of Mutants, all holes were covered with disgusting squirming flesh and faces.

The fight down there was definitely lighter, there was little space to enter making it much easier to defend.

And with the initial cannon blasts that echoed at the beginning, first contact was certainly going to be easier.

'The real issue is here.'

The cannons couldn't be lowered any lower than horizontally, so the only defence here...

Was them.

Steeling his faltering nerves, Syllian waited for the encroaching tide.

Around the deck; men prayed for life, and men prepared for death.

And these same men, let their blood decorate the grounds of their noble steed.

A Mutant slammed into his shield, shaking his body. Its two main arms clawed at his shield while its third arm crept around his shield, aiming for his eyes.

His arm strained to the limit, Syllian could feel his bones and muscles cry beneath the pressure.

Its thousands of scarlet eyes arranged all over its body dripped with glee as the claws sliced through the rain.

Thrusting his sword down, a gritty, pudgy, squelching sensation spread through the blade of his weapon to his hands.

The shortsword stabbed into the neck of the Mutant with ease.

Syllian sensed its bones and flesh through the sword, even its pulsing blood.

Twisting the blade, the third arm paused in its trajectory, stopping just 3 centimetres off his nose.

Slash!

Ripping the sword to the side, its half-decapitated head tilted backwards, revealing the yellowish-white bones within.

Black blood streamed out from the wound, covering his sword in a layer of vengeful spite.

Fwoosh...

Bashing it with his shield; the rest of its body swayed, then collapsed backwards, down the side of the mountain of Mutants.

Syllian didn't even register his first kill, nor the revolting sensation of murder, because right behind the Mutant.

Was another.

---

Many minutes passed since.

Even the word many was subjective here.

Syllian didn't know how long it had been, but it certainly felt like an hour.

The first few Mutants were easy to dispatch.

Relatively so.

Now, however, it was a miracle to get a second of respite.

To his left, Lanner had his mace thrashing wildly, aiming to cause the maximum amount of damage with little to no care for stamina maintenance.

He was at his wit's end.

To his right, Allen was stable, killing Mutant after Mutant in a 'civilised' manner.

He popped each of their heads like balloons, Allen was pleasantly surprised with how weak these abominations were.

But weak didn't mean safe.

In reality, their situation was the absolute opposite of 'safe'.

Blood dripped down below Syllian's right eye, the claw of a Mutant barely missed his eyeball.

Taking a step back, Syllian let one through, forcing it to tumble down onto the deck.

However, Syllian had no time to pay it attention for the moment, because the second Mutant was already upon him.

Lowering his head behind his shield, Syllian charged through, crushing the newcomer beneath his heavier body weight.

Its claws wrapped around his shield, attempting to slice his left arm apart. But Syllian gave it no chance. Raising his sword, he brutally slashed down and removed claw after claw, leaving it with nothing but bleeding stumps.

With its brain matter spraying over his face after a killing blow, he turned his head back to the Mutant that had gotten up.

Its legs sprung with squirming energy, dashing at him with 9 obscenely sharp claws of lacquered obsidian.

Syllian barely twisted his body to the side, dodging its attack with only half a second to spare.

"Ugh!"

What he didn't account for, though, were the sharp claws on its feet.

A gash etched itself on his chest, and the Mutant wasn't going to let the chance slip.

Rebounding off of the hull of the ship, the abomination screeched in delight.

It could smell the taste of human flesh!

Syllian tried raising his shield...

'Too slow.'

Raising his sword...

'Also too slow.'

Syllian was dead.

Click.

A distant clicking sound echoed.

Then...

BOOM!

Mutant brain matter blossomed across the starless night.