A massive whirlpool in the middle of a violent storm was pulling the brave galleon downward. The wood creaked and the strong winds cut through the ship's worn sails like blades. But even in the midst of this tragedy, it felt like the world had frozen.
Paralyzed.
The mere appearance of the creature's optic nerves was enough to make the entire crew think about giving up right then and there.
Beep!
Another notification reached Talon's ears.
The young captain stood at the center of the ship. Frightened, but still standing. Still wanting to fight, still wanting to kill and survive this place.
"You know... you're not that scary," the young captain's tyrannical voice echoed through the rain and rushing currents. Simon widened his eyes and stared at Talon. That damned nerd must've come to the same conclusion as his captain and was in shock that the devil wasn't scared of a fucking TITAN.
"The day I died... the day I accepted the pact... That night of flames and blood. I saw something far worse than you. Cluster of nerves from a dead beast! Your hands are nothing compared to his tentacles!" The suffocating presence of the eye noticeably shrank.
The young tyrant drove the tip of his halberd into the upper deck and drew his two daggers. His presence seemed to grow stronger with every step he took toward the creature. The sound of his wet footsteps hitting the deck was all anyone heard for several seconds.
Until hell broke loose.
Splash! Splash! Splash!
The nerves with their claws began to overwhelm Talon with their attacks, and the young captain responded in kind. Black and red blood spilled onto the rain-washed deck. The ship tilted even further.
"The secret to fighting multiple targets is simple. Take the hits. Accept minor damage in exchange for causing major damage. Accept being torn and stabbed, but not without killing one or two in return." Talon spoke to himself, repeating the lessons he had learned during knife combat training.
In reality, those marine academy classes involved fighting a bunch of guys with sticks and a few fish gutting blades. He could never have imagined facing hundreds of claws belonging to a titan's optic nerves.
Minutes passed, and eventually the sound of cannons unleashing hell made it into the back of Talon's mind. But he had entered what humanity calls a flow state.
Or... as the great media of his planet portrayed it: Enlightenment. A stage of understanding and absolute improvement.
Beep!
This time, Talon hadn't absorbed any bracelet.
The piece of metal on his forearm was trying to notify something else, but amidst the rain of blood and rotten flesh, he ignored it.
Some immeasurable amount of time passed until one of the claws stabbed deep into his ribs, snapping him out of that magnificent state.
He realized his center of gravity had shifted. Looking up at the infinite hands, he saw a massive iris and began to grasp the mess he was in.
One of the twins had passed out, held tightly by his chubbier brother at the top of the main mast. The deck was paying the price for the battle.
Fist-sized holes were everywhere, some even revealing the lower deck. The sails were almost completely gone, shredded with massive tears. The galleon's helm small, but valiant was split in half, and the cannons were nearly invisible.
Either launched into the sea by powerful winds or lost due to the ship's tilt.
But pale hands and nerdy glasses were visible. There, clinging to the damned helm, waiting for their captain's order.
Further aft, an old man gripped an arm that clung to a spear. He had driven it into the deck to keep himself from falling toward the eye. Still, with a dagger in his free hand, he fought off dozens of those black claws.
Talon understood.
Now was the moment.
He yanked out the dagger he had embedded earlier for support and leapt down.
Right to where his halberd lay. Using it like a springboard, he launched himself toward the part of the ship furthest from the galleon.
"Simon!!! TURN EVERYTHING TO PORT!!!" His suicidal command was madness, but the nerd had been beyond sanity for a long time. Using the last of his strength, Simon maneuvered the ship so its stern faced the Eye of the Underworld.
And Talon? He had to make sure not a single claw anchored itself to the ship. So if a massive nerve was the root, then it only made sense to attack the nerve directly. The wind slashed across his face as he soared above twisted nerves fused into a single giant mass.
"Suffer, you fallen piece-of-shit titan!" The young tyrant drove his daggers into the optic nerves of a titan that wasn't so dead after all.
Immediately, the currents went berserk. The eye that lit the center of the whirlpool had its pupils dilated, then it shut.
The currents exploded. A monstrous fury of wind burst from the eye as it reopened.
The massive nerve twisted violently, whipping Talon upward just in time for his back to slam into the upper deck and send him crashing down into the lower hold.
The wood creaked like never before. The mast groaned and tears appeared along splintering planks. The sails ripped one by one, and the twins were nowhere to be seen.
But the galleon was brave. It wouldn't shatter from just one gust of wind from an unimaginable being. The water stopped pressing against the hull, and hundreds of barnacles began to fall off.
Then, for a few seconds, the galleon flew. And finally, as the winds weakened.
The crew had passed beyond the currents of the Eye of the Underworld.
Hours went by in absolute silence. The storm clouds began to dissipate, and a sea of crystal-blue water replaced the darkness of hell.
Slowly, two disheveled blond heads emerged from the broken crow's nest at the top of the main mast.
The strong hands of an old marine gripped the side of the exhausted galleon for support, while cracked glasses reflected the light of a new dawn.
But many minutes passed, and no captain emerged from the lower deck. The crew looked around at one another.
Had the brown-skinned tyrant finally died?