𝕮𝖍𝖆𝖕𝖙𝖊𝖗 100: 𝕸𝖆𝖓-𝕸𝖆𝖉𝖊 𝕸𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗.
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While Pyke sank into hell, Marlo One-Eye would have burst out laughing if he had not still been running for his life. He ran with all the strength his beer belly and miserable physical condition allowed him, yet even so he could not help feeling like the luckiest man in the world.
Around him, the island burned and collapsed while rain, wind, and lightning destroyed everything in their path. One bolt struck so close that the ground trembled beneath his boots, yet Marlo came out completely unharmed.
And fuck, that made him happy.
Others screamed, burned, or lay crushed beneath the rubble while he still did not have a single scratch on him. The wind nearly knocked him over when a cottage lost its roof and it flew straight toward him, forcing him to dodge it by inches, but he kept going without looking back.
—I have to be the luckiest bastard on this shitty island —he thought cheerfully.
It was not the first time he had thought so. He had always been lucky: raids, storms, battles... though a good part of that fortune rested on the men under his command, men he had never hesitated to sacrifice whenever it suited him.
Even that time on the ship, when that bastard Cole had nearly slit his throat, he had survived, even if it had cost him two men and an ear.
Unconsciously, he brought a hand to his mutilated ear and clenched his teeth, cursing the man's name silently while remaining convinced that raping his sister had been more than deserved.
Pyke was lost, the Greyjoys were finished, and with them Balon and his rotten crown. There was no point mourning it; where one island ended, another coast to plunder began, and with a ship, he could make a name for himself somewhere else.
This time, he would not settle for being a captain.
Through smoke and rain, he spotted another man running in the same direction, hunched against the wind. He did not seem wounded and, when their eyes met, the stranger lifted his head just enough to recognize him.
—Marlo! —he shouted over the roar of destruction—Captain Marlo!
Marlo did not recognize him; he had had too many men under his command to remember every face, and this one was covered in blood and ash.
—I was part of your crew years ago —the other added without stopping—Come with me, my house is on the southern coast; I've got a cellar, and we'll be safe down there.
Marlo kept running beside him almost without thinking, while a mocking laugh threatened to escape his chest. His luck improved with every step; a cellar meant shelter and supplies, and he had no intention of sharing either of them.
As they dodged a collapsing wall wrapped in flames, his mind drifted irritably toward the girl he had left tied up at home. He had taken her during his raid on the western lands not long ago. She was less than ten namedays old, just the way he liked them. It was a regrettable waste, but he did not plan on dwelling on it too much. By now she was probably dead anyway.
They reached the house just as another roar shook the air and a reddish light illuminated the sky, but they did not stop to look. They stumbled down into the cellar, shut the hatch behind them, and sat facing one another while they listened to the world trembling above.
Marlo leaned his back against the stone wall, closed his eyes for a second, and smiled; he had survived the worst of it, and now he only had to decide what to do with his "friend."
He closed his eyes for another moment, letting his breathing calm before examining the cellar more carefully.
In the dim light filtering through the hatch, he made out damp shelves pressed against the walls. He expected to find them full, but when he ran his hand across the lower shelf, he found only dust.
He frowned and pushed himself up a little farther, discovering that all of them were empty; there was nothing there, no food, no water, no weapons.
The other man remained a few steps away, leaning against the opposite wall, breathing heavily, clearly more exhausted than he was.
Marlo thought about his knife, about the distance between them, and how easy it would be to rise first and bury it between the man's ribs. He placed a hand on his knee to stand, but pain tore through him before he could move.
It was not a blow or an impact, but something that exploded inside him, a brutal agony that ripped through his back and spread through his chest, arms, and legs all at once. Marlo screamed as he collapsed onto his side, his fingers clawing at the damp floor while his body convulsed uncontrollably.
Marlo let out an animalistic scream as he tried to drag himself across the cellar floor, but every movement only unleashed new waves of agony that seemed to tear him apart from within.
His vision, blurred by tears and sweat, barely allowed him to make out the silhouette standing before him, watching as he calmly wiped blood and ash from his face.
In the man's hand gleamed a double-edged dagger, strange and dark, its blade buried to the hilt in Marlo's stomach, while the ruby in the pommel emitted a faint reddish glow.
Marlo lowered his eyes toward the wound and felt fear beginning to rise even above the pain.
—N-no… —he stammered in a broken voice, trying uselessly to crawl backward as another brutal spasm tore through his body.
The man stepped forward.
—I came back, captain —he whispered in a calm, almost gentle tone—Just like I promised you.
Marlo would recognize that voice anywhere.
He remembered the night he had taken Cole's sister between laughter and screams, completely convinced that on Pyke no one could deny him anything he desired.
He also remembered the boy, desperate, trying to stop him, then the blade that had nearly slit his throat, the very one that in the end had only managed to tear off an ear, but above all, that voice filled with hatred swearing that one day he would come back for him.
—C… Cole… —he managed to gasp out between ragged breaths as fear began rising through his chest.
Cole leaned over him with a faint contemplative smile and, using his own nails, cut open his wrist, letting dark blood slowly spill out.
—No, captain —he murmured as he brought the wound closer to Marlo's mouth—You can't go into shock just yet.
Marlo tried to pull away, but he barely had enough strength to resist before Cole forced him to drink.
The metallic, unnatural taste immediately made him retch.
—I went through far too much trouble to bring us together for this to end so quickly —he said, still smiling.
Cole let him fall back against the damp stone and watched with cold satisfaction as the blood did its work, closing his wounds to keep him conscious.
Above them, the storm continued roaring over Pyke, but down in that cellar there existed only Marlo's broken gasps, and a man who had waited seven years for that moment.
—You're not going to bleed out —Cole said softly, with a happy look in his eyes, as though they were old friends— I'll make sure of that.
He watched as his blood, vampire blood, sealed Marlo's wounds one by one, though that would do nothing to ease his pain. Then he ripped the dagger out of Marlo's body with a violent pull, and the wound quickly began to close.
—It's a gift from Vlad —he added without a trace of pride, running a finger along the blade of the dagger as though cleaning it— There's a magical explanation and a rather complex mechanism behind it, but in simple terms, it hurts, it hurts a lot…
He stabbed the dagger into him again, this time with rage.
Marlo screamed as the pain tore through him once more, and his body twisted violently before collapsing again onto the damp earth, clawing at the ground between broken gasps.
Cole watched the man who had haunted his worst nightmares for years writhe in pain on the ground and tried to feel satisfaction, but he could not.
Even knowing how much suffering that enchanted dagger was causing him, since he had tested it himself, he still could not feel the slightest relief.
That fact only made him even angrier.
—Tell me, captain —Cole asked, his voice cracking with fury as he drove the blade in again— What does it feel like now? To be helpless, to finally know her pain, her fear.
The blade went in and out while the wound almost immediately began sealing itself, only to give way to unbearable burning agony.
Cole clenched his teeth, blood tears running down his cheeks as he attacked again.
—I watched her die in front of me —he shouted, his voice trembling as he twisted the dagger viciously— She was shaking, terrified.
Marlo's scream filled the cellar, but Cole barely seemed to hear it.
—She was saying my name while she died, you know? She wasn't calling for father or mother —he continued, almost spitting the words at him.— She was calling for me.
Marlo tried to beg, but barely managed to produce broken sounds before another stab stole the breath from him.
—I watched her slowly give up —Cole said, leaning closer as the blade sank into him once more— I watched the life leave her.
Marlo vomited blood and trembled from head to toe, but Cole violently grabbed his face and forced him to look at him.
—She was crying my name! —he roared, his voice completely shattered.
Blood ran over his hands, arms, and clothes, but he no longer seemed aware of it.
—Look at me now —he continued, breathing heavily as sobs began mixing with his rage— Look at what you turned me into.
Marlo trembled, trying uselessly to drag himself across the floor.
—No… no more… —he begged in a ruined voice.
Another stab came down without hesitation.
—All this time I've lived —Cole spat through clenched teeth— While trash like you… like us, ironborn who raped and murdered without hesitation, kept breathing… and she didn't.
—P-please… stop… —Marlo whimpered, on the verge of collapse.
—Stop? —Cole screamed, completely breaking apart as he buried the blade into him again— You didn't stop when I begged you.
Barely conscious, Marlo managed to spit out a single word.
—Monster… —he whispered while choking on his own blood.
Cole let out a broken laugh, closer to sobbing than anything else.
—You were the one who taught me what this world was —he replied with a mixture of fury, misery, and devastation— You said that here you could do whatever you wanted, you showed me how rotten this fucking island was.
Marlo's screams slowly faded away, reduced to weak gasps and increasingly clumsy spasms, while the vampire blood began losing effectiveness under the absurd number of wounds.
Cole breathed heavily, blood tears mixing with another man's blood as hatred, guilt, and pain finally crashed into him with full force.
Then he cried.
He cried like he had not cried since he was a child, for his sister, for not being able to save her, for what they had done to her, for what he himself had done, for never feeling guilt until Alice had been taken from him. He cried for his own hypocrisy and for the unbearable injustice of still being alive while she was not.
When he finally stopped, Marlo lay shattered across the damp stone, barely conscious, with life slipping away from him with every breath.
Cole stared at his own trembling hands, covered in blood, expecting to find some kind of relief, joy, or rage, but there was nothing there, only the same unbearable emptiness remained.
Above them, the storm and the dragons continued reducing Pyke to ashes, but down there in the cellar, only his broken sobbing remained as he fell to his knees, realizing far too late that none of it would bring Alice back.
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First of all, thank you once again for being here this week. I truly appreciate all of your support.
This week I'm on vacation from work, so I'm hoping to use the time to write quite a few chapters. Although, to be honest, there's a high chance I'll be leaving this job very soon.
The company decided to outsource all delivery positions to an external company and fire all the in-house delivery workers. Basically, they wanted us to sign a "voluntary resignation," which obviously benefits them a lot. But in my case, after working there for quite a while, I'm pretty well protected legally, so if they want me gone, they'll have to fire me properly and pay the corresponding compensation. Though honestly, I have the feeling they'll try to avoid paying as much as possible.
In the meantime, I'll use these days to write as much as I can and relax a bit.
Also, several people recommended that I start adding incentives here on WebNovel. The problem is that I still don't have enough accumulated chapters to constantly offer multiple extra chapters every week. But I was told that didn't really matter and that I could simply set a somewhat higher goal as motivation.
So I think I'll give it a try.
I'm going to set the goal at 800 Power Stones. If we reach that amount, I'll publish an extra chapter in addition to the regular weekly one.
Yes, it's a pretty high number, but like I said, I still don't have enough saved chapters to comfortably lower it. If I manage to build up a much bigger stockpile during these days, I'll probably be able to upload much more frequently without needing goals or anything like that.
As for the chapter… yes, I know. At this point, many of you have probably realized how absurdly obsessed I am with Epic The Musical. I think those of you who have listened to it will immediately understand where part of this scene comes from.
And speaking about the chapter, remember that Cole was originally a former Ironborn whose sister was murdered and raped by one of his old captains. This is, in a way, his revenge. Though honestly, I've always believed revenge never truly gives you peace. I'm not saying it isn't necessary, but I don't think it heals the pain. I think the best way to describe it is as a bitter and imperfect way of balancing suffering.
That's also part of the emotional core of this small arc about the destruction of Pyke and how Vlad deals with something like this. Until now, Vlad had mainly fought armies and armed enemies. Even in Lannisport, most of his attacks were focused almost entirely on soldiers. This is the first time he directly destroys a city.
And I didn't want him to react like a cold or completely indifferent protagonist. He doesn't regret it, nor does he break down over it, but he also doesn't trivialize what he has done. He simply understands that it was necessary and carries that weight because he feels he had no other option.
By the way, I'll probably also post a picture of my city at some point. A friend told me you'd probably enjoy seeing it, and honestly, it makes sense: I literally live in a city with its own Roman wall. It's incredible and, honestly, incredibly inspiring for writing this kind of story.
So yeah, thank you once again for continuing to be here, and I hope to see you all again next week.