Agravanis, Helga, Enn, and Miller ran, breath rasping in their lungs, as distant explosions and the masked man's amplified voice echoed in their ears. Around them, the streets of Najjari were alive with panic. Civilians, their faces etched with terror, dashed in all directions, their ragged breathing mingling with the surrounding uproar.
"Keep up! Follow me!" Miller barked, his voice taut with urgency as he drove the younger cadets forward. His seasoned eyes darted across their surroundings, scanning for the fastest, safest path through the crumbling city. Their target: the drawbridge — a potential lifeline leading to the outskirts and safety beyond.
They surged ahead, legs burning, the wild momentum of the fleeing crowd pressing in on them from every side. Each step was a battle, every breath a searing reminder of how close danger lurked. The World Map, gripped tightly in Agravanis's arms, weighed heavily — both a burden and a beacon of purpose.
When the drawbridge finally came into view, a groan of despair rippled through them. The path was sealed. Massive cargo ships — not the usual sleek vessels — churned into the city's waterways, their bulk completely blocking access to the bridge. The sight brought their flight to an abrupt stop.
"Damn it," Miller muttered under his breath, skidding to a halt.
They had only seconds to catch their breath, their chests heaving, lungs aflame. But the pause was short-lived. The pounding of heavy boots on broken pavement behind them grew steadily louder.
"Well, well, well," a guttural voice growled from the shadow of a ruined building. A squad of masked figures emerged, their white hoods stark against the dust-hung air. Their old-world weapons gleamed menacingly. "Running out of exits, aren't we, King's Men?"
One of them stepped forward, eyes gleaming through his mask with cruel amusement. "Hand over what you've got. Make this easy, and maybe you'll live to see another dawn." He lifted a broad, curved axe and added with a sneer, "Or we'll pry it from your corpses."
"What now, Miller?" Agravanis asked, his voice tight.
Miller's jaw set. "We make sure they don't get their hands on that map."
Helga stepped towards Agravanis, her expression resolute. "Give it to me."
Agravanis hesitated, his gaze skeptical. "No."
Helga's voice was firm, yet reassuring. "Trust me." She then subtly gestured around them. "Look around, Agravanis. No civilians. We're alone."
A faint smirk touched Agravanis's lips. "So caught up in running, I didn't even notice." He nodded, a sudden confidence in his eyes. He then moved forward, deliberately, towards the advancing pirates, who had now fully disembarked.
"What are you doing?" Miller demanded.
Helga placed a hand on his arm. "He'll be fine. We need to make our run while we still can."
"How?" Miller asked, his eyes still fixed on Agravanis.
Helga raised her voice, the words ringing with power. "Voice of the Hero!"
In a flash of light, she was clad in ornate Norse armor, a symbol of divine strength. In her hand materialized Mjolnir, the thunder god's hammer, rushing with energy, and behind her, a chariot appeared, drawn by two powerful goats. "Get on!" she commanded Miller and Enn.
The chariot thundered forward, attempting a daring leap across the closed drawbridge.
"They're getting away!" a pirate shouted, taking a step forward.
"I wouldn't move if I were you," Agravanis advised, his voice calm, yet edged with warning.
He spoke the words, "Hell's Lagoon!" A triton tattoo on his neck slid off, falling to the ground. The pavement beneath them transformed, becoming an onyx black lagoon.
The pirates stood at its edge, their feet not submerged, but the atmosphere thrummed with a hidden charge. From the depths, a merman emerged, but instead of a tail, it had scaly feet, and it wielded a menacing triton.
"What is this?" a panicked pirate stammered.
"I admonish you all not to move," Agravanis stated, his gaze tenacious. "Even I do not fully control the monsters that lurk beneath."
"Nonsense!! Let's get him, boys!" exclaimed a rugged looking pirate. He, alongside 6 others, took a few steps in the direction of Agravanis who continued to remain calm and immobile.
The ripples caused by their feet summoned horrors from the black depths. Kraken tentacles erupted, dragging the foolish pirates down. Sharks and other monstrous denizens of the lagoon snapped and tore, devouring others.
Some tried fighting back, but their attempts were futile. The masks of the consumed floated to the surface, a bleak reminder of their arrogance.
The few remaining pirates, frozen in terror, did not dare to move.
"Fear not, men," Agravanis said, his voice a chilling counterpoint to the screams. "Do not move, and I can guarantee your safety. I, too, am a prisoner of this ability. Shall we see who makes a better statue?"
Helga's chariot leaped into the air, soaring above the ravaged cityscape. Wind whipped past Enn, Miller, and Helga, tearing at their clothes as they sped through the sky.
"Could've done that earlier!" Miller yelled over the rushing air, a hint of exasperation in his voice.
Helga, gripping Mjolnir, retorted, "My abilities are random, Miller! I don't choose which ancient Norse god's power I get."
Enn, wide-eyed as they flew, asked, "What if you'd gotten a different god's power?"
"We probably would've fought off those invading pirates," Helga mused, then turned to Miller. "Which way to the King's Men base?"
Miller pointed ahead. "Few blocks that way! We're almost there!"
A wave of hope lifted their spirits as the base came into view, standing firm in the heart of the crumbling city. Then, without warning, a sizzling blast of energy tore through the air, slamming into the chariot's flank with devastating force.
It bucked violently, then began to tumble, spiraling down towards the ground. They plunged into a coffee shop below, the crash shattering glass and splintering wood. Darkness claimed them as the impact knocked them cold. The chariot shimmered and vanished, and Helga's armor dissolved, leaving her in her regular attire.
Debris slowly settled, revealing a masked man with braided hair sifting through the wreckage. He was the one with the obsidian mask, now displaying a hint of confusion. He searched the unconscious bodies, muttering, "That's odd. I could've sworn the ginger-haired one took it from that boy. Couldn't have grown legs and walked away."
His thoughts were cut short by a subordinate approaching cautiously. "Um, Boss."
"Not now, Mister Pewterschmidt. I'm trying to unmask something. Hehe. No pun intended."
"Oh, right. I'd prefer you called me Mohawk on a mission though," the subordinate pressed.
The leader's voice sharpened. "I beg your pardon?"
"Mohawk. My codename."
The leader's mask shifted, an emoticon of disappointment replacing its confusion. "Mohawk? That's worse than your actual name. Very well, then. What's troubling you, Mohawk?"
The mask's expression changed again — eyes half-rolling like it was two pixels away from starting a one-man food fight. Its mouth icon puckered, nostrils flared, and it let out an exaggerated "Blurgh!" that sounded more like a frog trying to clear its throat. Then, with a dramatic flair, he clutched his chest as if his poor heart was betrayed by the very sound — definitely not winning any Oscars for subtlety.
"Can't believe you made me call you that."
"It appears the World Map is in possession of that child over there," Mohawk said, pointing.
The leader followed his line of sight to a red-haired girl, freckles dusting her face, seemingly engrossed in examining the cube. He walked towards her, his voice firm. "You there, that doesn't belong to you."
The girl looked up, unperturbed. "From the looks of things, doesn't seem to belong to you either.
"Listen, little girl," he assessed her looks, her height sticking out like a sore thumb "Perhaps being 5'9" makes you feel old, but the grown-ups are talking here."
"5'11"," she corrected coolly.
"Uh-huh. Borderline, that is. If you ever want to go on romantic dates with your boyfriends—or girlfriends, I'm not one to judge—you'll hand over that map."
"Mmm....I don't think so."
"Listen little girl. It's either you give me the map or you're in for a whole lot of pain."
"Oh no! Pain. I'm frightened. What must I do to avoid this?" she responded in a sassy tone.
"No one likes an impudent woman, girl."
"Come on now, I was only joking." She stepped closer and gave him a light, playful bump with her shoulder — the kind you'd give an old friend — before smirking. "Don't tell me you're a softy under that seemingly sinister mask."
"Tell you what. I'll give you the map if you're able to give me some information on someone. Heard he was a mercenary once. "
"Since when was this a negotiation?" he muttered to himself.
"You may be a pirate, but you're not very different from mercenaries."
She reached into her fanny pack and took out a photography of a man.
The moment his eyes fell on it, the mask froze for a heartbeat, its digital display glitching — the cheerful neutrality replaced by a wide-eyed emoticon, pupils shrinking as if caught in sudden fear. A faint static ripple passed over the display before it settled into an expressionless blank, the kind of emptiness that was somehow louder than any outburst. His stance stiffened, fingers curling slightly, betraying the fact that he knew exactly who was in that picture.
"Any chance you know him?" she asked, watching him closely.
Then, far too quickly, the mask flashed an exaggerated ":D" grin."Hah! Nope. Never seen this guy in my life," he blurted, the words spilling out with the forced cheer of someone trying way too hard.Even a child could have heard the lie in his voice.
"Any chance you know him?" she repeated, raising an eyebrow.
"Nope!" he blurted, the word shooting out like a bullet.
The red-haired girl's eyes narrowed, a sharp glint of suspicion replacing her earlier amusement. "Really? Because you suddenly look like you just swallowed a live crab. You're sure you've never seen him?" She held up the photo again, tilting it slightly to catch the light. "He's got a pretty distinctive look, wouldn't you say? And it's urgent."
The leader shifted his weight, his mask's emoticon now fixed on a strained, unnervingly wide grin. "Urgent? Right, urgent. Look, kid, I'm a busy man. We've got... uh... liberation to spread. And that map is... well, it's very important for our 'liberation efforts,' you see." He gestured vaguely at the chaos around them. His voice took on a slightly higher pitch, a tell-tale sign of his discomfort. "So, no, no, not him. Definitely not. Completely unfamiliar face. Not in my line of work, that kind of... face."
"Not in your line of work?" she pressed, her voice calm but penetrating. "A man looking for justice, perhaps? Or someone who might know a thing or two about ancient maps and primordial scrolls?" She took a step closer, her gaze unwavering. "Because if he's not in your line of work, then maybe he's in your associates' line of work? Someone you might have crossed paths with, even briefly?"
The leader's head twitched almost imperceptibly. He took a hasty step back, nearly stumbling over a piece of rubble. "Look, I'm telling you, it's irrelevant. We're on a tight schedule here. That map is crucial. Just hand it over, and we can all move on. No harm, no foul, unless you make it a foul, of course, which would be... regrettable for you." He cleared his throat, his eyes darting frantically from the girl to his subordinate, Mohawk. His repeated, overly strong denials and visible discomfort made it abundantly clear to her that he was hiding something significant about the man in the picture.
The girl's eyes narrowed, a sharp glint of suspicion replacing her earlier amusement. Before she could voice her question, the leader moved with unexpected speed, snatching the World Map from her grasp. "Retreat! All units, retreat!" he bellowed, turning to flee.
"Hey! Get back here!" the red-haired girl yelled, scrambling after him. But as she lunged, a miniature, whale-like Void-Rider swooped down, hovering just in front of the masked leader. He leaped aboard, and the creature shot away, disappearing into the chaotic sky.
The girl stopped, studying the scene. Most of the remaining pirates were scrambling onto Void-Riders, ascending via dangling ropes. She overheard one shout to another, "We'll link up with the Boss on the mother-ship once we clear Najjari!"
A plan sparked in her mind. "Oh, Blessing, you're definitely going to regret this." she thought to herself. With a swift, brutal swing, she knocked out a nearby pirate with a piece of metal rod she'd found. She quickly stripped him of his mask and white hood, pulling them on. Blending into the fleeing horde, she grabbed onto a trailing rope and clambered aboard a Void-Rider, disappearing into the howling firmament.
Across the smoke-choked skies of Najjari, the invasion force began its choreographed retreat. One after another, the sleek, crustacean-like Void-Riders pulled away from the ongoing skirmishes, their objectives now clearly met. Piercing, high-pitched rifts opened in the air once more, not just a few, but dozens of glowing spatial portals bloomed. With remarkable synchronization, the entire armada, a vast fleet that had blotted out the Najjari sun, surged into these ephemeral gateways, vanishing from sight. The rifts snapped shut behind them, leaving only lingering echoes of energy and a city in ruin.
Back on the ground, within the shattered remains of the coffee shop, Captains Lee and Lockwood, their senses slowly returning, stirred from their incapacitated state. Their vision was still blurred, their heads pounding, but the worst of the toxic haze had dissipated. They groaned, pushing themselves up, their eyes adjusting to the devastation.
Nearby, a pile of mangled tables and broken glass marked another recent impact. As they staggered closer, they found Enn, Helga, and Miller beginning to stir. Helga's armor was gone, her clothes torn, and Miller's face was grim with dust and fatigue.
"Helga! Miller! Enn!" Lockwood's voice was hoarse.
Enn groaned, pushing herself up with a hand to her temple. "Captains? What... what happened?"
Helga, her ginger hair matted with dust, blinked rapidly, trying to clear her head. She looked down at herself, then around the wreckage, a dawning horror on her face. Her eyes aimed instinctively to where the map was originally. Her gaze fixed on the empty space. Her hand flew to her side, where the cube, the World Map, should have been.
"The map..." she whispered, her voice laced with dawning realization. Her eyes widened, a profound despair setting in. "It's gone. We... we failed." The words hung heavy in the silence, a bitter defeat after so much struggle.