His gasps came from his throat producing a hoarse sound. His fat, double-layered body—dripping with sweat—suffered from the violent effort he had to exert to flee this threat. Garr struggled with his bulk to run... to flee far from that immense and unbelievable crab that was chasing him.
While Garr struggled to slip through the narrow passages of the wreckage of the various ships, the giant crab forced its way through, destroying everything, under the orders of its rider. With the growing noise behind him, Garr knew he must not look over his shoulder under any circumstances. Because his clumsy and uncertain stride could cause his downfall. He stayed focused on his flight. His gaze fixed straight ahead.
He maintained his pace — more or less — but his speed was quite insignificant compared to the six rowers ahead of him, about a hundred steps in front. Indeed, the rowers easily followed the makeshift path offered by the debris of the abandoned ships. After several strides, the path led them to a dead end. To the right and to the left stood immense planks, where no handholds were possible. Only in front of them was a wall of wooden carcasses covered with protrusions—pointed planks serving as grips. The rowers didn't hesitate. "Move it, damn it!" they shouted, with the horrible creaking of wood close behind them.
One by one, the rowers climbed. When Garr saw his companions scaling the face, he realized it was impossible for him. Panic choked him. His voice hissed deep in his throat. The fat man was beginning to suffocate. I can't! I can't! he thought in despair. His legs weakened until… he stopped running.
Garr stopped, out of breath. Hands on his knees. Mouth wide open, he desperately tried to get some air. But this pause was short-lived because the giant decapod was gaining ground with a loud noise. Garr turned around despite himself. And there, despite the speed of his pursuer, Garr had time to make out the dazzling blue shining armor of the rider, seated atop the crab.
"Desecrator, you are going to die!" shouted the rider.
Yes, I'm going to die, Garr thought bitterly to himself. But I don't want to die.
Tears welled up in his eyes and in the very next moment, the giant crab struck him head-on. The impact was dreadful. Violent beyond belief!
Garr's face contorted in pain, his eyes about to burst from their sockets. His mouth opened askew. He vomited his guts out. The force of the collision was such that Garr was thrown backward against the starboard bulkhead, which bent abruptly. As it fell through, the body of the fat-double rolled down a slope bristling with debris. As it descended, the sharp edges of the planks slashed him. And finally, Garr washed ashore downstream, where he ended up in front of a gutted three-master covered in giant starfish with one eye—very much alive and open.
But Garr lay motionless, his body screaming in pain and covered in blood. As if dead…
I'm in pain!, he thought.
Apparently, the man was still alive. With a painful grunt, he tried to move his left arm. He succeeded. He tried with his right arm. He succeeded again. Encouraged by what he noticed, he caught his breath. He could, because in this collapse, cluttered with aging ships, the giant crab was no longer on his tail. Garr managed to sit up. But at the same moment, he heard a violent cracking followed by an earthquake-like rumble. Nervous, he turned his head toward the noise.
It's coming from up there. From where I fell, he thought.
Indeed, the decapod had just crashed into the plank-covered wall with pointed spikes.
"AAAAAaah!!" the rowers screamed as they fell from the top of the wall. With blows from its huge claws, the giant crab was wrecking the pile of planks. They flew everywhere. And the rowers tried to escape the enormous pincers by tumbling down the opposite side. Unfortunately, one of the rowers got caught by one of the claws.
"No! Please! Don't kill me!" he cried out in despair.
"Take your punishment, Desecrator!" stamped the rider.
"Please, guys, don't leave me!" the captive shouted to his comrades. But they were deaf to his pleas. They continued fleeing. Then the rower turned back toward the rider.
"Please, sir. I beg you!"
"This is a sacred kingdom," declared the rider in a serious tone. Then he tapped the crab's head. And then—crack!!
The captive let out such a scream that those who heard it could imagine the pain he was enduring. The fleeing rowers froze for a moment. They glanced over their shoulders and saw their companion, crushed between the pincers. Struck by this horrifying sight, the rowers immediately resumed their frantic escape.
"You will not escape me!" the rider declared to them.
On the slope, hidden behind the frame of the pierced ship, Garr witnessed the execution of the rower. He was so scared he almost screamed but stifled the sound with his hand over his mouth. Then, the crab launched after the other fugitives. The monster disappeared from his field of vision. Relieved, Garr let himself fall onto the damp sand. But the cuts and sharp pains in his body made him wince.
He stayed there, staring into space. He wondered what he should do now. He then scanned his surroundings for an answer, but his search was cut short the next moment when he discovered, inside, eyeballs watching him. Indeed, in the dark corners, dozens of voyeuristic starfish swarmed. They chilled him to the bone. So, Garr crawled back on all fours despite the pain running through his body. He exited the lair. But the stars — which covered the frame — still glared at him. Garr then took a small path to the left to go around the ship. The bulging eyes followed his every move.
Still on all fours, the fat man kept up his flight. When he reached behind the ship, the makeshift path ended at an even steeper slope. The slope led to a vast chasm. What was impressive was not its depth but what blocked the cavity: another large and massive crab, on which stood its rider clad in azure armor, armed with a golden lance.
Startled, Garr almost screamed, but once again, he instinctively covered his mouth with his hand. The fat man even stopped breathing. He didn't move, wanting to avoid the monster and its rider—who had their backs to him—from turning around to face him.
The man in blue armor was distinguished from the previous rider by his long, purple-colored hair. Is it another one? thought Garr. How many of them are there?
"You think you can escape?" thundered the rider's voice suddenly, as his attention turned toward the depths. "No one can escape punishment! Do you hear me, Desecrators?"
Seeing that the rider was addressing — it seemed — others down in the pit, Garr's curiosity pushed him to move toward the edge. Slowly, on all fours, he crept closer. He made sure not to make a sound. Finally, Garr positioned his head above the slope.
Unfortunately, the shadow of the giant decapod obscured the bottom of the pit.
"Do you hear me, Desecrators? Punishment is inevitable!" the rider kept shouting.
Garr persisted but still saw nothing. He shifted his weight forward, trying to pierce the darkness with his gaze. Still nothing... when all of a sudden, a wooden plank broke loose beneath him. The piece of wood tumbled down the slope, dragging other pieces with it… and soon caused a monstrous racket.
Oh no! Garr screamed inwardly.
Then came the collapse of the edge, triggering a rumbling landslide, like the roll of a drum.
"AAAAAaaah!!!" Garr screamed at the top of his lungs as he fell.
The rider snapped his head toward the scream. He managed to spot Garr's bulky form just before it was swallowed by the avalanche of planks and sand.
"Desecrator, you will die!" the rider declared sternly.
As everything came crashing down, Garr was entangled in the whirlwind of sand and planks. Tossed one way, then another. Struck by one piece of wood, then jabbed by another, the fat man no longer knew where he was. He lost all sense of direction. He was shaken in every direction throughout the collapse. Then, everything stopped—abruptly.
Silence.
Darkness.
Buried under the sand, all his limbs were pinned. Garr couldn't move. But moving was vital. Because the sand was seeping into his nostrils and into his mouth.
I don't want to die, please, he begged inwardly.
He tried again to move. But nothing.
However, he felt air on his fingers. He realized then that they were outside.
Please, he pleaded, as the oxygen became scarcer and scarcer.
Please.
The air was thinning. Garr was suffocating. His fingers searched for help outside.
Please.
But just as he was about to take his final breath, Garr felt a hand grasp his fingers. Then a second hand joined. He felt himself being pulled. A third and a fourth hand reached for his.
"Come on!" called out muffled voices through the sand.
With a sharp tug, Garr's arm was yanked from the sand pile, followed by the rest of his body. He could breathe again—thanks to his rescuers...
Garr looked up and recognized Wylgol and Mathurin.