The longboat’s hull scraped against the Horizon Talon’s boarding rails with a dull, exhausted thud. Marines disembarked quickly, moving like people who’d survived something they hadn’t finished processing. The deck of the Talon was a mess. Blood streaked the planks, bodies wrapped in tarp or half-covered still lay near the forward mast, and the stink of salt, rot, and ruptured flesh clung to the air like oil. Wounded crew sat propped against barrels or bulkheads. Kade stepped off the boat first, boots hitting the wood with a muted thump. Her cutlass rode low on her hip, and her eyes took in the scene on the deck, noting damage to the rigging, scorch marks near the port rail, and the bodies of several drowned.

  Lawson was already moving, one arm looped under a Marine who was barely conscious, blood soaking the side of his uniform in a slow, ugly bloom. Another Marine took the other side, and together they lifted the wounded man off the longboat without a word. He sagged between them, boots dragging across the deck as they turned toward the stairs leading below.

  A few paces behind him, Briggs hobbled forward, one arm slung over the shoulders of another Marine. A crude splint held his leg, and each step caused a jolt of pain across his face, yet he remained silent. Briggs wore the same scowl he always did, but this time, it looked like was holding his face together.

  “Stone better still have the good whiskey,” Briggs grumbled as they passed Kade. “I’m not getting patched sober.”

  The Marine supporting him grunted, adjusting his grip as Briggs leaned harder into him.

  Lawson gave Kade a nod as he passed. “We'll get them to Marie, then sort gear with Cole.”

  “Don't worry about it,” Kade said, glancing at a pile of recovered equipment in the longboat.

  "You three, do me a favor and get the gear out of the longboat and down to Quartermaster Cole," Kade said, flagging down three nearby crew members.

  Three nearby crew members broke off from tarp duty and moved fast, one hopping down into the boat while the other two stationed themselves along the rail. The rhythm wasn’t graceful, but it was effective. They hauled the gear up hand-over-hand and stacked it in a growing pile just outside the longboat. One crate landed with a hollow thunk, its side marked with the faded symbol of a university. Another looked like it had come off a civilian fishing trawler, the paint chipped and still reeking faintly of salt-cured meat.

  By the time the last crate came up, the sweat was cutting paths through the dirt on their faces. They didn’t complain. They just stacked the gear, hoisted what they could carry, and started off toward the below-deck quartermaster’s hold, boots thudding heavy against the blood-washed deck.

  “You. With me," Kade said, pointing at the civilian they had rescued from the flotilla.

  The civilian fell in behind her without a word, still reeking of brine and adrenaline. He didn’t walk like a soldier, but he didn’t hesitate, either. Smart enough to follow, quiet enough not to annoy her. Kade marked that as a good sign.

  As they climbed, the Horizon Talon creaked and groaned like a living thing. The weather was turning as the fog broke up. The deck crew worked in silence, broken only by the wet slap of mops and the dull scrape of boot heels. Blood and ichor pooled around the bodies of the drowned being tossed overboard. No one said much. Everyone had seen worse.

  The wind picked up as they climbed the steps toward the aft deck. Salt clung to everything, from the rails to the iron taste in the back of Kade’s throat. The sea was in full view now, spread wide and grey off the stern, churning slowly under the weight of a sky that looked like it hadn’t decided whether to storm or sulk.

  Captain Voss stood near the railing, his back straight, coat wet at the hems, with his officer's sabre still in his hand. Lieutenant Bishop was beside him, one sleeve torn, blood streaking down his forearm. Both turned as she approached.

  “Report,” Voss said, voice clipped.

  Kade nodded once, brief. “The flotilla was a setup. Looked abandoned, but the drowned had turned it into a kill zone. Two distinct battles. During the reboot, the drowned probably wiped out those stationed there. Second was a salvage team. Then the drowned jumped us.”

  The air on the aft deck was colder than when they'd left. Maybe the wind had shifted, or maybe it was just the weight of the moment settling in. Kade didn’t bother to wrap herself tighter against it. She kept her eyes on Voss and Bishop, watching for their tells. Both were calm, but neither looked surprised.

  Bishop’s brow creased. “Same here. The drowned hit us while your team was off-ship. Minor injuries. Some damage one cannon on the forecastle mount, but it’s nothing the clerics can’t patch.”

  Kade’s eyes dropped to the blood staining his sleeve. “Minor?”

  He shrugged. “Mostly. One crewman lost a leg. Clerics have him under.”

  Voss absorbed it all in silence, his gaze fixed somewhere past the horizon. He had that look again, like he was already running three scenarios ahead of what anyone else was saying.

  “This is a survivor from the flotilla?”

  "Yes.” Kade stepped aside. “Civilian. Said he was on a salvage run.”

  The man stepped forward, wary but holding his ground. Wind ruffled his coat, damp and salt-stained. He looked like someone used to working the bones of ships, not standing in front of officers. His shoulders were tense but level.

  “I’m Elias Dryer,” he said. “Tidebound Front. We were on a salvage run for a trawler. Ship was part of the University’s research fleet before the reboot. Didn’t know the drowned had already hit it.”

  His voice carried the grit of hard days and no sleep. Kade kept her eyes on Bishop, noting how his jaw set slightly tighter. He was reading between the lines. So was she.. But it was Voss who asked first.

  “Tidebound Front. That’s Portland?”

  Elias nodded. “What’s left of it. City’s cracked in thirds. You’ve got the dockhands, tug pilots, people who know how to move things without a chain of command making up the Tidebound Front. Then there’s the Restoration Council. Remnants of the former city government and first responders. They want everything back as it was before. Uniforms and ranks and rules.”

  “And the third group?” Bishop asked, voice flat.

  Elias rolled his eyes. “Ebonwake Conclave. Bunch of former professors and other university nerds. Think of the Simulation as a giant research project to be uncovered. We were salvaging for them, if you can believe it. That was a trawler that had been doing research for them before the reboot. They're practically drooling over the introduction of the Data Forge in those patch notes the other day.”

  That had been a fun day, Kade thought to herself. A Simulation message had popped up letting everyone know that there would be a patch. A patch… for reality. One item listed in the patch notes was the addition of the Data Forge. That part had lit up the crew's conversations when the patch dropped. Everyone asking the same thing. What is it? How do we use it? Why is it even there if we can’t access it? Across the ship, everyone's interface showed the new tab, but it was grayed out. No one could open it. The crew thought it was bugged, or that they needed to meet some kind of condition. The patch notes had mentioned a safe zone, but they had experienced nothing like that since the cataclysm.

  A patch. For reality. Kade still wasn't over that.

  Kade’s brow furrowed. “You could access the Data Forge tab in the interface? The Data Forge tab is greyed out for everyone on the ship."

  Elias shook his head. “Not really. The patch was pushed to everyone’s interface two days ago, as it looks like you already know. However, it's locked out unless you’re inside a Simulation-recognized safe zone.”

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  Voss glanced sideways. “Yes, we are not sure what a safe zone actually is?”

  “A safe zone,” Elias repeated. “Designated areas the Simulation’s trying to stabilize. Fortified spots. Monsters cannot spawn inside the safe zone, but they can still attack it. But Portland’s marked as contested, which means the Simulation won’t activate any of that until someone establishes control.”

  Bishop folded his arms. “And until then?”

  Elias let out a humorless breath. “Until then, we’re burning through gear and bleeding people while the powers that be try to decide which one of them gets to be in control. Doesn't sound any different from before the end of the world, does it?”

  An awkward since fell over the four of them. The more things changed, the more they stayed the same. Losing seven billion people in the last ten days hadn't stopped some people from focusing on their own interests instead of preventing humanity's extinction. Over her military career, Kade served in numerous disaster areas. Areas gripped by civil war, bloody fighting, or just natural disasters, and when the dust settled, everything rested on a knife's edge. Either people banded together to put the pieces back together, or they scrambled to grab every little thing they could for themselves. Everyone else be damned.

  “Get us underway,” Voss said at last. “Chart course for Portland. We’ll make contact, feel out the factions. See who seems the most reasonable.”

  Bishop moved off, already barking orders to the helm crew below.

  Wind tugged at the back of Kade’s coat as she turned toward the north. She mentally activated her eyepatch and adjusted the zoom to bring the coastline slightly closer into view. Portland sat in the distance, jagged and grey against the murky sky. From here, it looked like every other ruined city they’d passed while sailing up the coast. Half-collapsed towers, broken coastal docks, and wind-scoured structures barely clung to the shoreline. Smoke drifted inland, steady and indistinct. Just another piece of wreckage with too many blind corners and too few answers.

  Safe harbor? Maybe. But from this distance, Portland looked as broken as everything else.

  Elias lingered near her elbow, quiet now.

  She didn’t look at him. “Portland worth it?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Yeah. But you’re gonna hate the price.”

  The wind had shifted again, cooler now, with the sea sliding beneath the hull in long, steady swells. As it leaned into its heading, the Horizon Talon creaked, its bow angled north toward Portland. The drowned were overboard, the decks were cleaner, and the worst of the blood had been scrubbed into the sea. For now at least, the ship felt like hers again.

  Kade stayed on the aft deck while the officers scattered. Bishop had gone to the forecastle to check on the weapons mount. Voss lingered only long enough to give her a nod before steering the civilian toward the stairwell.

  “Come on,” the captain said. “Let’s get you dried off, fed, and into something that doesn’t smell like fish rot and lost hope. I want a full rundown on Portland’s factions, and I’m not doing it while your teeth are chattering.”

  Elias didn’t argue. He followed the captain below deck, still moving like a man unsure when the ground might turn against him. Kade watched them disappear, then turned back toward the rail, letting the wind rake through her short-cropped hair. The Talon was making good time. Portland wouldn’t be far now.

  She didn’t hear the boots behind her until the clipboard came into view, held out like a peace offering or maybe a warrant.

  “Ma'am,” Devin Cole said, voice dry as a biscuit left in the sun. “Got a minute?”

  She gave him a sidelong glance. “That depends. You finally stop tracking my coffee rations like I asked, or is this another bill I forgot to pay?”

  Cole’s only response was to tap the clipboard twice with the edge of a calloused finger.

  “I got the manifest on the gear your team brought back from the flotilla,” he said. “Details on those three magical items you brought back are on the second through fourth pages. You’ve got first rights. Crew’s already sniffing around, so I need to get it sorted before we hit port.”

  “Alright.” Kade leaned against a nearby crate, accepting the clipboard. “Let’s see the damage.”

  Cole flipped the cover and held it steady while she scanned the top sheet. The first item listed had an attached image sketched in tight, precise lines. It was oversized, brutal, and about as subtle as a siege engine.

  Anchor’s Woe

  Quality: Uncommon

  Enchantments: Drowned Cut, Barnacle Chain

  Description: Crafted from an iron anchor once used in deepwater salvage, Anchor’s Woe bears glowing green runes etched along its rust-pitted edge. The Drowned Cut enchantment inflicts a bleeding effect on slashing strikes, with a slight chance to slow the target's movement speed as saltwater magic seeps into the wound. The Barnacle Chain enchantment occasionally lashes out with a spectral chain, reducing the chance of a nearby enemy disengaging from melee range for a brief time.

  The weapon's shape was as if someone had taken a ship’s anchor and decided to make it portable. Not that it really was. Meant for two hands and a lot of muscle. Solid enchantment woven into the steel. High impact. It would rip through the drowned as if they were made of kelp and bad intentions.

  “Beautiful piece,” Cole said, watching her read. “Captain Voss said it nearly cracked the deck when your team hauled it back.”

  “No doubt,” Kade said. “But I’d need three more vertebrae and a new class to make it worth carrying.”

  Cole gave a half-smile. “Figured. Frontliners are already eyeing it.”

  “Let them. That’s not a finesse weapon, it’s a declaration of war with a promise of pain.”

  He nodded and flipped the page.

  The second item was more her style. A long knife, wicked in profile, with a lean edge and an enchantment pattern that shimmered faintly in the etching along the spine.

  Saltbite

  Quality: Uncommon

  Enchantments: Keen Edge

  Description: Saltbite is a long, narrow blade crafted from salvaged ship metal. Though plain at a glance, the blade holds an enchantment that sharpens it beyond mundane limits. The Keen Edge enchantment increases critical strike potential and makes it especially effective at exploiting armor gaps. Favored by fighters who value speed, control, and precision over brute force.

  Kade studied it a little longer. It would fit into her off-hand rig easily, and the balance looked good. No flash. Just utility and violence. The kind of weapon that didn’t need announcing.

  It lined up well with her class kit. Quick strikes, low windup, fast recovery. A clean fit for the type of work she did in close quarters. It would complement her existing loadout with no need for any major adjustments.

  But she wasn’t giving up her cutlass.

  That weapon had seen her through more fights than she could count in the last ten days. It was part of how she moved, how she thought. Replacing it with a knife, even a well-balanced magical one, felt like trying to out think instincts that had kept her alive. She needed a backup, that much she could admit. Something reliable for when things got tight or too close for a full arc swing.

  Just not this. Not now. Not when half the crew was still making do with broken salvage and hand-me-down steel.

  “Tempted?” Cole asked.

  “Sure,” Kade said. “But half the squad’s still fighting with salvaged scrap metal and repurposed kitchen knives. This would be a backup for me. Someone else might actually live or die by it.”

  Cole raised an eyebrow. “Myers was asking.”

  Kade gave a small grunt. “Then it should go to him.”

  From behind her, a familiar voice chimed in. “Smart call, LT. That one’s got edge.”

  Briggs leaned against the stair rail, his leg still splinted and braced stiff in front of him. It appeared the clerics had done enough to set the bone and keep him mobile, but not enough to take the fight out of him. The Marine standing just behind him looked half amused and half exhausted, probably regretting whatever bet had landed him as Briggs’s designated shadow.

  “You stalking my paperwork now, Briggs?” Kade asked.

  “Just happened to overhear from thirty feet away. Marine hearing, you know. Selective as hell.”

  Cole moved to the last page and flipped it toward her. This time, the sketch was of a leather chest piece. Reinforced stitching, a dull patina where enchantment threads had been worked into the layers. No major resistance, but clearly stronger than what she was wearing. The pre-reboot ballistic vest under her coat had already seen better days, and it wasn’t exactly designed for magic-based attacks.

  Wavecut Vest

  Quality: Uncommon

  Enchantments: Unhindered Flow

  Description: The Wavecut Vest is a reinforced leather chest piece treated with a waterproofing resin and lined for comfort in wet or shifting environments. Designed for sailors and skirmishers alike, it provides solid mid-tier protection without sacrificing mobility. The Unhindered Flow enchantment allows the wearer to move as if unarmored, removing any stiffness or drag from the gear itself. Ideal for close quarters or tight shipboard combat where freedom of movement can mean the difference between surviving and sinking.

  “This is solid,” she said.

  “It’s not flashy, but it’s good,” Cole replied. “Utility enchantments mostly. Good resistance spread, flexible weight class. Valued at three hundred forty.”

  Kade nodded slowly. The knife was tempting, but this one she’d actually wear. No hesitation, no second-string logic. Just the protection she could use right now.

  “I’ll take it.”

  Cole jotted a note on the clipboard.

  “I’ll debit your shipboard account,” he said. “Should leave you with around seventeen-fifty, depending on your crew cut from the flotilla haul.”

  “Guess I won’t be buying that antique coffee grinder after all.”

  “Tragedy,” Cole said, expression unreadable. “Anything else?”

  “Just get that knife to Myers before someone else tries to claim it. The prize system is working well, I'd rather not put it to the test over a magic knife. And make sure whoever takes the anchor sword knows how to swing it without putting a hole in the deck.”

  “Already on it.”

  Cole turned and headed back down the steps, grumbling something about idiots and weight balance.

  Kade stayed where she was, the wind still sharp against her coat, the coastline drawing slowly closer as the Talon cut through the chop. Portland waited ahead, cracked and contested, with three factions pulling at its spine and none of them willing to let go first. Whatever passed for order in that city would not come easy.

  It was going to be a shit show. She would at least be wearing something decent when the killing started.

  from the log of Lt. Sarah Kade, Horizon Talon

  just know we’re already ten chapters ahead over on Patreon. That means if you want to see how far down this rabbit hole goes, you don’t have to wait for command updates. Just click, read, and prep your own coffee rations.

  It’s called , and if you’ve ever wondered what happens when a paladin with righteous fury and no tolerance for bullshit gets dropped into the end of the world, that’s where you’ll find out. Think divine smite meets fed-up hero with a really big spear.

  Lt. Sarah Kade

  Horizon Talon, currently en route to whatever fresh hell waits up north