CHAPTER 70: [70] UGLY, DESPERATE, BEAUTIFUL

This is it, Pierre thought, tasting blood on his lips. The metallic tang filled his mouth as he struggled to remain conscious. Hardy’s power is almost gone. I can barely stand. And Saxe hasn’t even broken a sweat.

The amber glow from the ancient artifact cast long shadows across the chamber, turning Saxe’s scarred face into something from a nightmare. The enforcer moved with casual, unhurried steps, twin sabers catching the light as he advanced toward Pierre’s crumpled form.

But then something extraordinary happened.

Alyssa stepped forward.

Not behind Pierre. Not to the side. Forward, placing herself directly between the wounded captain and the advancing killer. Her platinum blonde hair caught the amber glow as she raised her riding crop, the gemstone at its tip sparkling like a distant star against the darkness. Her hands shook—Pierre could see the tremor running through her entire frame, from her clenched jaw to her unsteady stance—but her voice was steady as granite when she spoke.

"You’ll have to go through us."

The words hung in the ancient air, defiant and unwavering. This wasn’t the entitled Navy princess who’d joined them seeking escape. This was someone new, someone forged in the crucible of their journey together.

Raven moved to join her, blood still coating her fingers from tending Pierre’s wounds. Her mismatched red and white hair hung in damp strands around her face, framing those distinctive cat-like blue eyes that never left Saxe’s scarred features. Dirt smudged her cheek, and a tear in her top revealed a fresh bruise forming on her ribs. She settled into a combat stance Pierre recognized from their first meeting—the precise positioning of someone trained in pressure point combat, weight distributed evenly, hands open and ready.

"Both of us," Raven added, her voice carrying that familiar edge of defiance that had first drawn Pierre to her. A thief’s voice, sharp and uncompromising.

Pierre’s chest tightened, and not from his injuries. The pain momentarily receded as a different sensation washed through him. These two women—one a former Navy princess who’d given up everything for freedom, the other a thief who’d spent years trusting no one—were willing to die for him. Not because he was some legendary hero or because they owed him anything, but because they’d chosen each other as family.

The realization hit him harder than any physical blow. In his former life, he’d been alone. Now, in this strange world of pirates and power, he’d somehow found people willing to stand between him and death itself.

"No," Pierre gasped, trying to push himself upright. Blood seeped through his torn shirt as the movement reopened his wounds. "Don’t—"

"Shut up, Captain," Alyssa snapped, never taking her eyes off Saxe. Her knuckles whitened around the riding crop. "We’re not leaving you."

The simple declaration made his throat tighten. Behind her tough exterior, he caught a glimpse of the real Alyssa—not the monster’s daughter, but a woman making her own choices for the first time.

Saxe paused, his dead eyes moving between the two women. The chamber fell silent except for their breathing and the distant hum of the artifact. For a moment, Pierre thought he might show some flicker of respect for their courage, some acknowledgment of their loyalty. Instead, the scarred man simply adjusted his grip on his sabers and continued forward, metal scraping softly against metal.

The first exchange happened faster than Pierre could follow in his injured state. Saxe’s right blade swept toward Alyssa’s head in a silver arc that would have decapitated her if it connected. But Raven was already moving, her fingers striking out to hit the nerve cluster at Saxe’s elbow. The blow wasn’t enough to disable him, but it made his swing go wide, the blade singing through empty air inches from Alyssa’s ear.

Alyssa didn’t waste the opening. She grabbed a chunk of amber debris from the floor and hurled it at Saxe’s face, forcing him to duck. The moment his vision was blocked, she dove left, her voice echoing off the ancient stones as she shouted, "Raven, his knee!"

This wasn’t the elegant swordplay Pierre had read about in stories. This wasn’t the flashy, overpowered attacks Jack would have attempted. This was ugly, desperate, beautiful in its raw honesty. Two people with no hope of victory fighting anyway because someone they cared about needed them to.

Raven’s strike hit Saxe’s kneecap dead-on, and Pierre heard the enforcer’s sharp intake of breath—the first sound he’d made since entering the chamber. But instead of falling, Saxe spun with the impact, using his momentum to bring his left saber around in a vicious backhand that barely missed Raven’s throat. The blade sliced through several strands of her white-red hair, sending them drifting toward the stone floor.

"Behind you!" Alyssa screamed, her voice cracking with urgency.

Raven dropped into a roll, dust and ancient debris clinging to her skin as she came up with another piece of amber that she immediately threw at Saxe’s sword hand. The impact made him stumble, but he recovered quickly, his scarred face showing the first hint of irritation—a slight narrowing of his eyes, a tightening around his mouth.

"Keep moving!" Raven called to Alyssa. "Don’t let him predict your pattern!" Her fingers flexed, ready for the next opening.

Pierre watched in amazement as his crew worked together. They had no formal training as a unit, no shared combat experience, but they moved like they’d been fighting side by side for years. Alyssa called out warnings and tactical suggestions while throwing debris and using her riding crop to deflect attacks. Raven struck at pressure points and joints, not trying to win but simply to slow Saxe down, to make him work for every inch.

A silent communication had developed between them—a glance here, a nod there—each understanding what the other needed without words. When Saxe pressed Raven too hard, Alyssa created a distraction. When Alyssa faltered, Raven slipped in to give her room to recover.

They were buying time. Time for what, Pierre didn’t know, but they were giving everything they had to give him that chance. The stone floor beneath them was becoming slick with sweat and blood—mostly theirs—yet neither woman retreated.

This is what Jack never understood, Pierre realized as he watched them fight, struggling to gather enough strength to join them. It’s not about being the strongest or having the biggest attack. It’s about having people who’ll stand with you when everything goes to hell.

Speaking of Jack, the blue-haired man stood frozen near the chamber’s far wall, his vibrant hair matted with sweat and dust. His mouth hung open as he watched Alyssa and Raven’s desperate battle, his usual cocky demeanor completely vanished. Pierre could see the confusion in the younger man’s eyes, the fundamental disconnect between what he was witnessing and everything he’d believed about strength and heroism.

"This doesn’t make sense," Jack whispered, more to himself than anyone else. His hands hung uselessly at his sides, his grand dreams of harem-building and Pirate Lordship momentarily forgotten. "They’re not fighters. They’re supposed to need rescuing."