Nathaniel’s fleet was caught in the deadly stretch of sea and was tossed by raging waves. Gigantic swells slammed onto the deck one after another, and each impact was deafening.
The ship rocked violently, threatening to come apart. Every groan of the wooden deck echoed the impending destruction.
A soldier was swept into the air by a giant wave. He flailed his arms in despair, but the wind swallowed his scream. He plunged into the sea and was swallowed by the whirlpool without much of a splash.
Nathaniel gripped the railing with all his strength. His knuckles turned white, his nails digging deep into the wood.
His bloodshot eyes stayed fixed on the chaos. Seawater mixed with sweat slid down his face and traced the hard line of his jaw.
“Quick, tie down the ropes,” he shouted, his voice raw. A young soldier nearby fumbled for the rope with trembling hands. Fear was written across his face, his lips quivering as he stammered, “Your Highness, I… I can’t hold it.”
No sooner had he spoken than a stronger gust hit. The whirlpool pulled him in, and the rope snapped. His scream ended abruptly as he vanished into the vortex. Nathaniel could only watch in horror. Shock hit him, but he had no time to grieve.
“Hold on tight, everyone! As long as we get through this whirlpool zone, we’ll be fine! “shouted a commander from one of the escort ships.
As soon as he finished speaking, a giant wave slammed into their ship and flipped it over. In just a few seconds, the entire ship was swallowed by the vortex, and their fate was unknown.
The situation of the other escort ships wasn’t much better. The soldiers on board were screaming and pulling at each other, but it was useless.
One of them reached out toward the main ship, with desperation in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but no sound carne.
Soon, another escort ship was sucked under, leaving only ripples on the sea surface as if nothing had happened. Time passed by slowly, and each second felt like torture.
When the storm eased slightly, Nathaniel looked around, and his heart sank. What had once been an orderly fleet was reduced to a few battered ships. The deck was covered with bloodstains and broken wooden planks.
The surviving soldiers were pale with fear, their eyes vacant. Some slumped to the floor, clutching their heads and sobbing quietly.
Nathaniel took a deep breath and shouted, “Pull yourselves together! We’re still alive, and being alive means there’s hope!”
Suddenly, the ship lurched downward, and a huge force was pulling from the bottom of the ship. Nathaniel looked down and saw a pitch-black whirlpool forming beneath the ship. The pull was so strong that the vessel was already sinking into its grip.
“Damn it!” he cursed under his breath. He wanted to give the order to steer clear, but it was already too late.
