The arrow shot faster than the ordinary eye could follow.

  Down there, the man in the red bandana had just opened his mouth to shout. "Burn the screen!" Those words never came out. Mira's arrow pierced her neck from the side, pierced through the vocal cords and arteries, and then exited the other side.

  The man collapsed silently, choking on his own blood.

  The surrounding pirates paused, confused as the command broke suddenly.

  "One," Mira calculated, her hand already picking up the second arrow.

  Mira became the Grim Reaper up there. Every time a Swan sailor was cornered, Mira’s arrows came to the rescue. A Sisilkka trying to stab the ship’s doctor in the back? An arrow to the thigh. A pirate about to throw a Molotov cocktail at a stack of crates? An arrow to the wrist, causing the bomb to fall and burn his own pants.

  "Archer above!" one of the pirates shouted. "Shoot that monkey!"

  Three pirates aimed their crossbows at Mira.

  Mira didn’t panic; her archery experience couldn’t be underestimated. She saw them raise their weapons. She saw their fingers tense on the triggers. She jumped. Not down, but swinging to another rope on the opposite side of the mast.

  Three bolts (iron arrows) sank into the wooden mast where Mira’s head had been just a second ago.

  Mira hung by one hand on the rope, her body floating in the air, and fired back while upside down. Gravity meant nothing. The Terakaca Forest and Jangberg Forest (albeit a little) had taught her to shoot from any position.

  Her arrow hit the chest of one of the crossbow shooters.

  However, the situation below was becoming increasingly critical.

  Kars was fighting near the entrance of the passenger cabin, serving as the last bastion. His staff moved like a propeller, breaking the ribs and arms of anyone who dared to come close. But he was surrounded by five people at once.

  He was indeed strong, but his strength came from star magic. Without it? He was no different from these pirates.

  In the middle of the deck, there was an old man in big trouble. He was dueling with a monster.

  That figure was the Bosun (Chief Boatswain) of The Banshee Coil. A two-and-a-half-meter-tall Half-Ogre, wearing scrap iron plates roughly nailed to his body. He held a giant war hammer covered in blood.

  The old man tried to block the hammer with his sword. A bad idea.

  The sword shattered. The hammer continued its swing, striking the side of the man's body. The old man was thrown like a ragdoll, crashing into a stack of water barrels. He didn’t get up again.

  The Half-Ogre Bosun roared in triumph, raising his hammer high to finish off the frightened crew.

  Mira watched from above. Ordinary arrows wouldn’t penetrate the thick iron plate on the monster’s chest. And the Ogre’s skin was as thick as a rhinoceros’s hide.

  Mira looked around. She needed something bigger.

  Her eyes caught a cargo chest hanging on a hoist (pulley) right above the Bosun's position. The rope was tight, holding the weight of hundreds of kilos of cinnamon.

  Mira didn’t aim at the Bosun. She aimed at the pulley rope.

  She took a breath. This time, she summoned more of her Essence. She needed a heated arrowhead. Agnilith Heat. The tip of the iron arrow blazed red. It wasn’t the magic of age, but a hereditary magic from the Agnilith Family.

  Release.

  The arrow shot through the air and struck the thick hemp rope. The heat from the arrowhead scorched the rope fibers, and the weight tension did the rest.

  The rope snapped. The giant cargo chest fell freely.

  Bosun looked up as he heard the sound of the rope breaking. His small eyes widened. "Uh-oh."

  Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  The chest fell heavily on Bosun. The wood splintered everywhere, scattering cinnamon powder across the deck like a brown dust explosion. The monster was buried beneath it.

  "Good!" Mira shouted to herself.

  But her smile vanished a second later.

  The pile of cinnamon moved. The broken chest was lifted. Bosun rose. His iron helmet was dented, his nose was bleeding, and he was coughing from the spice dust. But he was still alive. He was very angry.

  He looked up, straight into Mira's eyes.

  "YOU!" the Bosun roared. Its sound is like that of a grinding stone.

  He picked up a spear lying nearby and threw it at Mira with insane force.

  Mira released her grip on the rope, dropping herself onto the deck of the surveillance platform just as the spear shattered where she was hanging.

  "Damn, he's so hard!" swore Mira. She ran out of arrows in his quiver. Only two remain.

  She looked down. The crew of the Swan ship begins to lose morale, seeing the monster rise again. If the Bosun had not stopped, this ship would have fallen.

  Mira made a stupid decision.

  She kept her bow on his back. She drew the two daggers she had taken from the same place when he picked up the bow. And she leapt down. Not using the rope ladder. She free-fell from a height of ten meters.

  The wind whistled in her ears. As she approached the deck, she saw a pile of torn sails below. She landed there, rolling to cushion the impact of the fall, then sprang to her feet.

  She stood ten meters from the Half-Ogre Bosun. Cinnamon-colored dust still swirled in the air, creating a spicy, eye-stinging brown haze.

  "So you came down too, Little Rat," the Bosun growled, picking up his war hammer again. He stepped forward, the deck floor shaking with each step.

  Mira twisted her dagger in her hand—reverse grip. "You smell of spices," Mira teased, trying to lure him in. "Great for baking."

  The Bosun roared and lunged. The giant hammer swings horizontally, a wide sweep designed to break the waist.

  Mira didn't fend off. She dropped himself, sliding on the blood-slick wooden floor, just below the swing of the hammer. The wind from the swing of the hammer ruffled her hair.

  She was within the range of the monster's guard now.

  Mira stabbed. Her right dagger struck the Bosun's thigh. The tip of the dagger meets the iron plate of the foot guard. Not penetrated.

  "My skin is iron, Kid!" The bosun kicked.

  The giant leg hit Mira's chest. Mira was thrown backwards, rolling around on the deck until her back hit the ship's fence. His breath was gone. It felt like being hit by a horse. His ribs screamed in protest.

  The bosun approached again, raising its hammer high for a final vertical blow.

  "Crash!"

  Mira coughed, blood in her mouth. She saw the hammer at the highest point. She looked at the Bosun's open armpit as he raised his hand.

  There is no armor there. Only gray skin sweats. Mira couldn't escape anymore. She had no space. The only way is to attack faster.

  She called the Orbs, which she could gather in a panic. Not to shoot. But for a Flashbang.

  Mira raised her left hand, holding the dagger.

  A blinding white explosion erupted right in front of the Bosun's face.

  "ARGH! MY EYES!"

  The monster roared, completely blinded. His swing with the club missed, hitting the deck next to Mira's head, splintering the wood and sending sharp shards toward Mira's face.

  This is her chance.

  Mira jumps. She climbed up the handle of the hammer that was still embedded in the deck, using it as a foothold to jump onto the Bosun's chest.

  She landed on the monster's chest, gripping the collar of his armor with her left hand.

  Her right hand, holding a dagger, was ready. Mira poured Hard Light into her iron blade, extending its range into a thirty-inch-long razor of light.

  She did not pierce the chest. She pierced a gap in the neck, just below the helmet, where the iron slab had a leather joint.

  The dagger went inside. Getting to the handle.

  The Bosun froze. The roar was cut into a wet gurgling sound. The hammer slipped out of the grip.

  Mira pulled out her dagger and jumped backwards, landing gracefully on the deck.

  The giant's body was wobbly. One second. Two seconds. Then it collapsed forward like a fallen tree.

  There was a moment of silence in the area. The other pirates who saw their leader fall retreated in fear.

  "The boss is down! The boss is dead!" shouted one of the Goblins.

  At that moment, in the sky above them, a huge explosion occurred.

  It was the sound of Draven's ice dome being destroyed by Vraaxask's spear. The shockwave was so powerful that it shook both ships below.

  The ice island trapping the two ships was destroyed. Huge waves separated The White Swan and The Banshee Coil. The remaining grappling hook chains tightened, then snapped one by one with loud cracks.

  The Banshee Coil was pushed away. The pirates still on the White Swan panicked. Some jumped into the sea to return to their ship, while others surrendered, dropping their weapons.

  The battle was over.

  Mira stood there, panting. Her chest hurts. Her face was full of cinnamon dust and splatters of blood that were not her.

  Kars emerged from behind the smoke. She was limping slightly, her robe torn, but she was still standing upright. She looked at the Half-Ogre Bosun corpse at Mira's feet, then looked at Mira.

  "You killed him," Kars said. That's not a question.

  "He wants to crash me," Mira replied, her voice flat. Her adrenaline began to recede, replaced by an overwhelming sense of tiredness and trembling hands.

  Mira looked around. The corpse was lying around. The crew of the Swan who died, the pirates who died. Blood pools in the sewers, flowing into the sea.

  This is not a rabbit shooting exercise. This is also not a Kars training puppet. This is a corpse. The man who had a name, had a story, and now it was just a lump of cold meat.

  Mira felt nausea in her stomach. She vomited her entrails onto the side of the ship's fence.

  Kars approached, patting her back gently.

  Above them, the severely wounded Vraaxask was landing back on the deck.

  Mira wiped her mouth. She watched the Banshee Coil stumble away. She saw Draven's figure standing there.

  "We're safe," Mira whispered.

  "For today," Kars corrected, staring at the horizon. "Clean yourself. Help the injured."

  Mira nodded, limping past the Bosun corpses she had killed, toward the nearest bucket of water. The water was clear, but when Mira dipped her hand in, it immediately turned red.