Nobody expected the Abyssal Piranhas to pack such devastating power under the Piranha King’s command. With one ramming attack, they had snapped a 60-foot escort ship clean in two, defying all logic.
This had evolved beyond just a school of fish into something more like demonic sea creatures. While ordinary Abyssal Piranhas were already terrifying, these evolved monsters weren’t just bigger and more savage, but were almost impossible to kill.
Despite the ship being equipped with every weapon imaginable, the crew was still somewhat overwhelmed when facing thousands of these piranhas.
The sea wind whipped at Tristan’s black serpent-embroidered battle robe, lifting it just enough to reveal the jewel-encrusted sword at his hip. His eyes lingered on the escort ship that had been split clean in two, watching fire flicker across its deck before the dark waters swallowed it whole.
“Pass my orders!” he ordered.
He drew his sword and leveled it at the swarm. The steel glinted under the glow of the bronze lanterns.
“Aim the portside cannons at the densest clusters while the starboard martial artists form a shield formation and seal every breach on deck.”
Cannons erupted in thunderous blasts, sending iron shot gouging white scars across the sea. Shredded fish rained down like hail. Yet the piranha horde moved with uncanny coordination, slipping through gaps between cannon volleys as if driven by a single mind.
The crack in the stern had widened even more, allowing dozens of silver-gray piranhas to spill onto the tilted deck. Their teeth scraped against planks in a shrill chorus that made every soldier’s skin crawl.
“Your Highness, the shield formation in the southeast corner is falling!” the captain, Zondell Wright, shouted.
His left arm had been chewed to ribbons, yet he still gripped his shield tightly.
Tristan vaulted past the splintered mast. His sword aura lashed out in silver streaks, cleaving three piranhas before they could reach Zondell. Dark green blood sprayed across his face, heavy with a sharp, rancid stench.
“Use kerosene.” He kicked aside a writhing fish carcass and shouted, “Pour it over the rails!”
The soldiers scrambled to haul up wooden barrels. Red fluid streamed down the ship’s sides until it shimmered with faint blue in the sea breeze.
When Tristan snapped his fingers, sparks leaped forth. Flames raced along the kerosene trail as it rose into a wall of fire around the ship.
Shrill cries rose from the burning swarm as charred piranhas thrashed in the firestorm, though a few slipped past the flames and slammed their blazing bodies into the deck.
Suddenly, the Piranha King leaped from the waves and its 30-foot body crashed down on the bow in a surge of black water. The ornate figurehead shattered into splinters while three soldiers who couldn’t dodge in time were swept away by its tail and fell into the school below.
“It’s afraid of fire!” Tristan caught how the Piranha King’s dark blue pupils contracted as it leaped over the wall of flame.
After slashing through the swarm tangling around the anchor chain, he shouted, ” Throw every lantern and torch to the bow.”
Dozens of bronze lamps arced through the air toward the bow. Their flames whirled in the wind like wheels of gold, illuminating the Piranha King’s silhouette clearly enough to reveal a stark white patch on its belly without scales.
Seizing the chance, Tristan grabbed a satchel of explosives from the deck. The fuse hissed to life in his palm as he ordered, “Zondell, take ten death warriors and strike with me!”
Ten figures sprinted across the swaying planks. Their combined energy formed an overhead shield against the raining piranha.
