BANG! BANG! BANG—!!!
The deafening crashes exploded across the sea like thunder.
The rams of Caggo's fleet slammed into the sides of Lo Quen's forward oarships like siege hammers.
Sturdy oak planks groaned under the immense force, shattering, warping, and buckling inward in an instant.
One medium-sized galley was struck so hard it nearly snapped in two, seawater pouring in as the hull keeled sharply to one side.
The pirates of Jawbreak Island roared with bloodlust, brandishing axes and cutlasses. Like piranhas scenting blood, they clambered up the tilted hulls or swung aboard on hooked lines, swarming onto Lo Quen's ships in a frenzy.
The battle flared white-hot at once.
The clash of steel, the dying screams, the rage-filled shouts filled the night.
Lo Quen's thousand pirate infantry—though drilled for half a month under Jorah—were quickly hard-pressed against the Jawbreak veterans, twice their number and twice as savage.
The lines buckled beneath the brutal assault. If not for the Dragon Soul Guards, their silent, unyielding wall holding the worst of the enemy's charge and cutting men down with Valyrian steel, the defense would already have shattered.
Lo Quen drew the Valyrian steel sword at his waist, its cold blade glinting in the firelight.
A pack of Jawbreak raiders spotted him as commander and charged with howls.
A cold gleam flashed in Lo Quen's eyes. Magic surged within him, flooding into the blade.
The ancient runes etched along the spine flared to life, burning crimson.
"Whoosh—!"
A fan-shaped wall of fire erupted from nothing.
Lo Quen swept his sword wide, unleashing the searing blaze like a living thing. It devoured the onrushing pirates in an instant.
They had no time to scream. Their bodies twisted and blackened in the flames, filling the air with the stench of charred flesh.
The fire raged on, licking up ropes and debris, casting a hellish glow across the terror-twisted faces of nearby raiders.
Jorah Mormont, hacking through foes in his heavy armor, faltered mid-swing, staring in disbelief at the sight of Lo Quen's sword, wreathed in flames of annihilation.
Lo Quen cut through the enemy like a war-god of fire, his flaming blade carving a path of ruin. Pirates burned to cinders or hurled themselves into the sea, shrieking.
He carved straight through their ranks and leapt onto the deck of another warship, leaving a trail of burning carnage behind him.
As he was clearing the last resistance, a raw, thunderous bellow rolled across the battlefield, drowning out the din.
"For Jawbreak Island! Kill them all!"
Lo Quen's head snapped toward the sound. On the deck of a massive double-decked galley, a hulking, bare-chested figure swung a colossal axe like a beast unleashed.
Every stroke sent blood spraying, bodies crumpling like stalks of grain before the scythe.
Around him, the pirates of Jawbreak Island went wild, howling his name with frenzied devotion:
"Caggo! Caggo! Caggo—!"
It was Caggo.
A cold killing smile curved Lo Quen's lips.
The chance was here.
Without hesitation, he sheathed the flaming sword and drew the Dragonbone Bow from his back.
Draw. Nock. Pull. The movements flowed like water.
His will flared, and flames roared to life along the black arrowhead, burning fiercely.
TWANG—!!!
The bowstring cracked like a thunderclap.
A blazing meteor streaked across the night, splitting darkness and sea alike. Death itself flew on its trail, straight for Caggo's chest.
On the opposite deck, Caggo had just split a man in half with his axe, hot blood spraying across his face.
And in that moment, a dread deeper than blood, like the gaze of some ancient beast, locked onto his soul. Every hair on his body bristled.
His beastlike instincts saved his life in the final heartbeat.
Caggo never even saw the arrow clearly. Acting purely on instinct, he twisted hard at the waist with startling speed and strength. His left hand shot out like lightning, seizing the gaunt man beside him and yanking him into his path.
"Splutch—!"
A faint but chilling sound of tearing flesh.
The flaming arrow grazed past the outer side of Caggo's left arm.
The searing heat carbonized and vaporized the flesh in an instant, leaving white bone exposed. Agonizing pain tore a scream from his throat.
But when his eyes fell on the man he had pulled in front of him, the scream broke off—replaced by terror and revulsion.
A gaping hole, the size of a bowl, with smooth charred edges, had burned clean through the man's chest.
The blast had incinerated his innards and bones the moment it struck.
All that remained were scraps of blackened flesh and jagged rib ends smoldering with faint smoke and sparks, sizzling with the acrid stench of scorched meat.
The man's face was still frozen in shock, but his eyes were already glassy, empty.
Through the smoking cavity, Caggo saw Lo Quen standing tall on the opposite stern deck, bow in hand, Death made flesh.
He glanced down at his own arm—blackened, burned to the bone, wracked with stabbing pain...
For the first time, sheer terror drowned the infamous "Shipbreaker."
"Retreat!!! Get the fuck out of here!!"
His roar, sharpened by panic, turned shrill and broken.
He no longer cared for the fleet or for victory. He scrambled and staggered toward the cabin, desperate to flee from the bow that had nearly ended him.
The sight of their commander fleeing, combined with the charred corpse at his feet—its chest blown open, its eyes staring lifelessly—shattered the Jawbreak pirates' will.
They scattered like beaten dogs, leaping back onto their ships in a frenzy. Oars bit the sea with frantic strokes as the fleet swung about, fleeing toward Jawbreak Island. Behind them drifted only burning wreckage, bobbing corpses, and the foul reek of smoke and blood carried on the wind.
Roro cut down a pirate too slow to escape, wiped the blood from his face, and rushed to Lo Quen's side. "Lord! Shall we pursue?"
Lo Quen slowly lowered the Dragonbone Bow. Watching Caggo's flagship vanish into the fleeing mass, swallowed by the night, he shook his head.
He was too far, the waves too rough. Even if he gave chase, his ships couldn't match their speed. And Caggo, shaken and terrified, would surely scatter vessels to cover his retreat, leaving no opening.
"No. Order the men to clear the field. Gather the dead. Salvage what we can. We return to Torturer's Deep."
His voice was hard as iron. "This debt will be paid—sooner or later."
The wind keened across the deck, fanning stubborn flames and carrying the thick stench of blood.
A carefully laid ambush and counter-ambush had ended in Caggo's ruin, and the Shipbreaker fled maimed.
But in the Stepstones, the storm was only beginning to rise.