Eila huddled beside a frightened family as the pirate captain sauntered into the dining room, a wide smile on her face. A black gem glittered in her tooth. More pirates strolled in behind her, dragging members of the flight crew judging by their uniform and caps. A beefy man who looked more like a bull than a human came last, holding a tall man with an indignant expression on his face. His uniform was the most detailed and ornate—the captain?

The takeover of the Serenity had been quick and deadly; the pirate ship had somehow latched onto the Serenity’s air-shield like a magnet and dissolved a hole in it. Pirates had swarmed through, rounding up the employees and passengers and dumping them all into the dining room. As far as she knew, Tristan was still passed out in their room. It would only be a matter of time before they rounded him up too.

Worst of all, these pirates had access to their decks. The cards swirled around them, and Eila saw that not a few were Adept. The captain had yet to summon hers as she strolled around, peering down at the frightened hostages gathered at the back of the dining space. The tables had been shoved aside, the kitchen staff forced out from the back.

Eila studied the captain closer as she passed. She was a short, dark-skinned woman with a sharp chin and a long-faded scar running down the side of her face. Her eyes were flinty and bright with amusement, her hair tied back into thick locs underneath a tight, black bandana. Her knee-length sky-black jacket was left open, revealing a bare chest with a wrap around her breasts, her muscular and scarred torso covered in tattoos. The most prominent one was the same snarling sky wyrm’s skull Eila had seen earlier emblazoned proudly at the base of her throat. Jewelry flashed all across her.

She was beautiful. She was terrifying. She wore power and confidence like it was simply another accessory.

“Well,” the pirate captain said, standing in the middle of the room with her arms clasped behind her back. “Let me begin with an apology for the intrusion, ladies and gentlemen. I know this must be quite a shock, seeing a crew as ugly as mine boarding your lovely vessel.”

The gathered pirates jeered.

“My name is Captain Dennier,” she continued, her loud voice echoing strong and proud. “I head the vessel Scapegoat.” She waved her hand at the pirates crowding behind her. “These are my men. Introduce yourselves, you rude sacks of ink!”

The pirates started shouting their names, laughing and jostling each other as they did it. The small boy beside Eila whimpered and buried his head into his mother’s side. The mother exchanged a frightened glance with Eila.

Dennier raised her hand casually, and as one the pirates quieted. She gestured with her raised hand and the pirates brought forward the flight crew and forced them to kneel beside Dennier in a long row. The captain of the Serenity was brought directly in front of the pirate captain; the man resisted, struggling, but was forced to his knees as well by the beefy pirate.

“You pirate scum,” the captain spat, glaring up at Dennier. “You won’t get away with this. Do you know whose ship this is?”

“Yes,” Dennier said, leaning down. She stabbed a thumb at herself and grinned wide. “She’s mine.” She straightened and gestured to the gathered flight crew. “Now! Ladies and gentlemen of the Serenity, listen close. The personnel gathered before you here are the brave, talented men and women who pilot this ship. It’s thanks to their efforts that your voyage to Advance was going as smoothly as it was.”

She raised her hand in the air. “Does anyone here know how to pilot a Class-C zeppelin like they do?”

The hostages remained still. Eila had a sinking feeling.

“No? No takers?” Dennier dropped her hand and shrugged. “That’s too bad.”

Her deck formed around her. A large ring of cards swirling around her chest in white-and-gray sleeves with the same sky wyrm’s skull visage. Eila counted the cards and horror dawned in her.

She’s Expert.

Dennier stood behind the first of the flight crew kneeling in the row. A young man with peach fuzz still on his face, trembling.

“What is your name and responsibility aboard this vessel?” Dennier asked.

The young man didn’t respond, trembling.

Dennier pulled a card from her deck and placed it gently against the back of the young man’s skull, who froze. Gasps rang out from the hostages, and Eila’s heart thumped. The mother beside her grabbed her boy and wrapped him in her arms, blocking his view. Eila felt a hand grab hers on her other side; she turned woodenly and saw a woman her age, fear in her eyes. Eila squeezed her hand back.

“I’ll say it only once more,” Dennier said, her voice cold. “What is your name and responsibility aboard this vessel.”

“I.. I’m Markos Gereer,” the young man stammered. “I help assess wind speed and weather conditions.”

“Markos Gereer!” Dennier shouted into the air, making the hostages and crew flinch. “He is responsible for assessing the wind speed and weather conditions.”

The card Dennier held suddenly glowed. Eila’s eyes went wide as the card activated; a blast of wind blew Markos’ head off, spraying the hostages in front in a burst of blood and gore.

Shrieks rose from the room. Eila numbly looked down and saw blood on the hem of her dress.

Markos slumped down onto the floor, bleeding from his now exposed neck. His [Binder] appeared beside him, and the pirate who’d ferried him over greedily snatched it up and absorbed it.

Dennier’s card dissipated. She casually pulled another and went down to the next crew member, a woman who was sobbing, the side of her face covered in Markos’s blood.

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“What is your name and responsibility aboard this vessel?”

—🃁—

Shouts in the hallway.

Tristan awoke, a blinding headache ripping his brain to pieces. He groaned and stumbled to his feet, rubbing his face. He still felt drunk. A quick glance at the clock showed him it was close to 4 A.M.

“Eila?” he muttered, turning around. Her bed was still empty. Must be out getting information. Good on her.

He stood and made his way to the shower, stripping his clothes and wincing. I’m never going to drink again. He turned the dial on the metallic disc set into the stall and hot water spurted out from the showerhead above. Thank god this world has magical plumbing.

He stood there, groaning, letting the hot water warm him up. In the hall, he heard some more shouts and thumps. Probably some drunk people coming back from the lounge. He turned the heat up high and sighed in satisfaction.

The door to the cabin suddenly rattled, as if someone was trying to open the locked door. Tristan frowned. Eila must be really drunk herself if she was trying to get in without the key.

The door rattled again, stronger. Tristan turned the shower down and crept out, wrapping a towel around his hip and poking his head out the bathroom.

A shadow underneath the door flickered, as if someone was moving. His eyes narrowed. A strange feeling tightened in his gut. On instinct, he quickly turned the shower all the way up and closed the curtain before quietly walking back out into the room, placing his back against the wall behind the bathroom.

His door shattered in a gust of wind, sending fragments flying everywhere. He ducked down and looked at the reflection of the window.

A man stood in the now open doorway. He was bald and rough-looking, a scruffy beard covering his round face. He wore all black: a loose, robe-like top was cinched tight at the waist and his sturdy pants were tucked into boots. A bandana was tied around his head, depicting a logo of some flying sky creature with a skull for its face.

Most worrying of all, this stranger had his deck out. Tristan quickly counted and saw he was Adept.

Tristan breathed out. He had no idea what was going on; he was still drunk, and his head was pounding.

None of it mattered. He needed to find Eila.

The man sauntered into the room. “Here, piggie, piggie,” the man sang, chuckling to himself. He went into the bathroom. “Come on out—”

Tristan swept around the wall and tackled the man just as he swung open the empty shower stall. The man grunted and flew forward, smashing his hard head against the towel holder. The Armor on his bandana cracked red as he dropped to the ground, and Tristan quickly finished the job by slamming his head on the ground until the Armor shattered and he was knocked unconscious. His deck faded.

Tristan scrambled out, nearly slipping on the wet floor, and into the hallway. In the cabin directly across his, he saw that door had been broken into as well and another black-clad man was shouting at a cringing couple. The man turned around and locked eyes with Tristan.

He bolted down the hall towards the corridor leading to [Teleport Stone]. Behind him, the man shouted from the room. Tristan flung his towel aside, opened his [Binder] and quickly re-equipped all of his armor; in a flash, they appeared.

Just in time. Tristan heard the Attack screaming before it struck him on the shoulder of his [Devourer’s Plate]; the Armor flashed red as he slammed into the wall, groaning.

I need my deck

! He had no idea how these invaders were using their cards, but with the lockdown in place there was only one place he could go.

He scrambled to his feet and started running again. He was sluggish, his head still pounding from the hangover, his movements still sloppy from the remaining alcohol. If I survive, I’m never drinking again.

He heard more shouts and footsteps behind him. He quickly pulled a [Devourer’s Mandible] from his Binder as another Air Attack struck him from behind; Tristan flew forward with a grunt, but the Attack actually launched him closer to the corridor, and he crawled inside. Angry shouts rose from behind him, followed by the whooshing sounds of [Air Dashes] casting.

He shakily got to his feet again and converted the mandible. It appeared in his hand as a wicked black fragment from the boss itself, like a poorly fashioned knife.

A card curved around the corner and landed in front of him. A [Sky Harpy] Summon formed, the beast screeching in the air and blocking his path to the Teleport Stone.

Tristan didn’t think; he shouted and ran at the Summon, thrusting his mandible at its body. The item pierced through its flesh, letting loose a spurt of Air energy, and the Harpy screeched in pain. Tristan bowled past it, shoving it against the wall and continuing forward.

He quickly pulled another mandible and his Access Key, converting them both. He quickly set the key to the sixth floor and sped up; a quick glance over his shoulder mid-stride showed him three of those black-clad strangers quickly gaining on him, wind surrounding their legs and cards—some kind of buff, likely [Jetstream]. A quick glance back forward showed two more down the corridor on the other side of the [Teleport Stone], their heads turning at the disruption.

Instinct made him inexplicably shove himself against the wall; another Air Attack barrelled down the corridor, a [Whirling Gust] by the look of it, an Apprentice-rank card.

It shot down the hall and struck the [Teleport Stone], making it shudder.

“Be careful, you idiot!” shouted a voice behind Tristan. “Don’t break the Stone!”

Tristan took the moment to scramble forward. On the other side, he saw the other strangers running down the hall towards him. One of them cast a card low, sliding underneath the [Teleport Stone] before dropping into the floor right in front of Tristan. A Trap.

He ran with everything he had, picking up speed, then right before he was about to hit the Trap card, he leapt.

He flew much further than he thought, thanks to the physical enhancements in ranking up. But the Trap triggered mid-air, creating a maelstrom of wind that sent out slices of wind everywhere; the explosion catapulted him forward, all of his equipment flashing red. His [Nightsworn Hood] and [Boots] shattered, becoming inert and reverting to normal clothing. Slices of wind cut angrily all across his vulnerable head and feet, making him hiss.

He fell to the ground, pain flaring, disoriented. A slice had ripped a gash on his forehead, making blood stream down his left eye. He heard more shouts from the strangers to be careful about the Stone.

The Stone! Tristan got to his bleeding feet, shoving down a cry of pain at all the cuts there, and stumbled forward, key stretched out. The [Teleport Stone] was flashing worryingly, gouges and scratches all over its crystalline surface.

Some of the currents of Order and Air energy flowing across its surface had been cut, and they spurted out mists of energy like blood from a vein. Through a large gap in the crystal, Tristan saw cards linked together by lines of energy floating within its depths.

“Stop him!” shouted a woman. A man rushed at him from the other side.

Please work. Tristan slammed his key on the stuttering crystal just as the man [Air Dashed] forward and grabbed his arm.

The world ripped apart in a disorienting roar of light.