A Show of Power

The Abyss rocked gently at anchor, her crew working tirelessly to ready her for departure. The sea air was thick with the scents of salt and tar, mingling with the faint odor of blood still clinging to her decks from the last battle. Jacob stood at the bow, staring at the horizon, his thoughts already miles ahead. They would be leaving soon, but not without ensuring that La Fortune, still being refitted and repaired, would remain safe from local pirates or opportunistic scoundrels.

Garrett joined him at the bow, hands clasped behind his back. "The crew's ready to go, Captain. We've got the necessary provisions and powder aboard. Elias and a small crew are staying behind to oversee La Fortune. They'll handle the rest of the repairs and outfit her for sale."

Jacob nodded, his gaze fixed on the horizon. "Good. But we need to make sure the local crews know to stay away from her while we're gone. We can't afford to have anyone take an interest."

Garrett grunted in agreement. "That's always a risk, especially with the bounty we've hauled in. Some might think they can take a piece of it while we're away."

Jacob's jaw tightened. "We'll make sure they know better."

He turned, his eyes scanning the docks below. The port was bustling with activity. Crews worked on their ships, traders haggled, and the ever-present shadows of piracy lurked at every corner. The local pirate lords were watching them, waiting to see if The Abyss's departure would leave them vulnerable.

They were about to find out the hard way.

Later that day, Jacob strode down the gangplank with Garrett and a few of his officers in tow, heading into the heart of the bustling pirate port. His steps were purposeful, his coat sweeping behind him as his boots clanked against the rough wooden docks. Eyes followed them as they moved. Rumors had already begun spreading about the power Jacob wielded, but it wasn't enough. Not yet. He needed a demonstration.

The pirate crews in this port were a loose collective of gangs, each answering to their own leaders but tied to an unspoken code that kept things from spiraling into full chaos. Still, there were always ambitious individuals who might test his resolve. Jacob wasn't here to make friends—he was here to send a message.

A few blocks from the docks, Jacob spotted a group of pirates gathered outside a tavern, rough-looking men from a smaller crew that had been sniffing around La Fortune ever since they arrived. Their captain, a thick-necked brute named Vargas, leaned against the tavern's wall, flanked by his men. Vargas had a reputation for being reckless—just the kind of man who might think about taking advantage of The Abyss's temporary absence.

Jacob slowed his steps, his gaze locking onto Vargas, making it clear this wasn't a chance encounter.

Garrett stepped forward, voice low. "Captain, that's Vargas's lot. Word is, they've been asking around about La Fortune."

Jacob's eyes narrowed, but he gave a small nod. "Stay close. Let's see how bold they are."

As they approached, Vargas straightened, a cocky grin spreading across his scarred face. His hand rested on the hilt of his cutlass, and his men exchanged glances, sensing the tension rising.

"Well, if it isn't the captain of The Abyss," Vargas called out, his voice dripping with false bravado. "Heard you're leaving soon. Seems to me you've got more ships than you can handle."

Jacob stopped a few paces away, his expression cold and unreadable. "La Fortune is under my command. No one touches her."

Vargas chuckled, his men joining in, their laughter filled with a dangerous edge. "Is that so? Shame, leaving such a fine prize behind. You never know what might happen while you're gone."

Jacob took a slow step forward, his voice low and dangerous. "If anything happens to that ship, Vargas, I'll hold you personally responsible."

Vargas's grin faded, his eyes narrowing. He took a step closer, bringing him within striking distance. "You think you can scare me, Jacob? You might be the talk of the port, but we've all bled to get where we are. Words ain't enough to—"

Jacob moved faster than anyone could have anticipated. In a blur of motion, his hand shot out, grabbing Vargas by the throat. The pirate captain's eyes widened in shock as he felt the icy grip of Jacob's necromantic power coursing through him. His skin paled, his veins darkening as if the life itself was being drained from him.

The men around them froze, unsure whether to intervene or run.

Jacob's voice was cold as the grave. "I don't need words to make you understand. I don't need threats. If you or any of your crew touches La Fortune, I'll end you."

Vargas gasped, his body convulsing under Jacob's grasp. His eyes rolled back, and blood began to seep from his nose. Jacob's grip tightened, and with a flicker of dark energy, Vargas's body jerked violently before collapsing to the ground, lifeless.

The remaining pirates stared in horror as their captain lay at Jacob's feet. Jacob stood tall, his gaze shifting to each of them, daring them to make a move.

"You tell the others," Jacob said, his voice calm but laced with menace. "La Fortune is mine. Anyone who touches her will end up like Vargas."

Garrett stepped forward, towering over the now-terrified pirates. "You heard the captain. Get out of here."

Without a word, the crew scattered, fear driving them back into the shadows of the port.

Death energy, the dark force Jacob wielded, was not something that mortal bodies could withstand. The raw, necromantic power was more than just a force of intimidation—it tore at the very fabric of life, unraveling the delicate balance that kept living things intact. When Jacob used it, as he had on Vargas, the energy seeped into every fiber of his victim's being, corrupting their essence and snuffing out their life like a candle in the wind. For the ordinary human, the effects were swift and horrifying, their body breaking down under the weight of the energy, unable to resist its decay.

But for Jacob, using this energy came at a cost. While curses and small manipulations of necromancy drained only fragments of his reserves, invoking death itself—so direct, so final—pulled more deeply from the well of his soul. Each time he unleashed it, he felt its toll. A slow, aching fatigue gnawed at him, more than just physical exhaustion. It was as though the power was feeding on his very essence in return for what it granted him.

And yet, it was effective. It would keep others in line, far more than words or threats ever could.

As the last of Vargas's life ebbed away, Jacob felt the shift inside him, a subtle surge in his soul count. The system registered the death he had caused, the essence of the life taken now adding to the dark reservoir within him. Just then, the system's voice echoed in his mind, cutting through the quiet with a tone of finality:

[Soul absorption complete. Current soul count: 100/300] 

It was a cold, hollow feeling—one he was becoming all too familiar with. The death energy claimed its due, but in return, Jacob's power grew ever so slightly, another soul added to the tally.

For now, he could rest knowing the message had been sent. But the question lingered: how many more times could he afford to use such power before it consumed him as well?

Jacob turned and walked back toward The Abyss, Garrett by his side. The air around him was colder now, his power having left its mark on the port. There would be whispers, fear, and awe in equal measure, but more importantly, the message was clear. No one would dare challenge his authority here. Not while the memory of Vargas's lifeless body lingered in their minds.

Garrett glanced at Jacob, eyes full of caution. "That was… bold, Captain. You've certainly made your point, but there's a fine line. Some of these men might band together if they think you're too much of a threat."

Jacob's face remained impassive, but there was a flicker of weariness in his eyes. "I know, Garrett. But we don't have time for subtlety. We've got what we need here, and La Fortune will be safe while we're gone. They won't risk crossing me now."

Garrett nodded slowly. "Aye. But let's make sure we don't push them too far."

Jacob said nothing, his mind already moving forward. They had a ship to intercept, and time was running out. As they boarded The Abyss, Jacob spared one last glance back toward the town, where the first whispers of his growing power had begun to spread like wildfire. The game was changing, and Jacob was no longer content with playing by the old rules.

The crew hoisted the anchor, and the sails unfurled. The wind caught, and The Abyss began to glide out of port, leaving the bloodstained memory of the encounter behind.