Gareth returned to normal.
The enormous killing intent that had subdued many men on the sea dissipated like hue on the mountain—fading, dissolving, vanishing into the storm-dark sky. The oppressive weight that had choked the air, that had crushed the wills of pirates and navy men alike, was gone.
Gareth fell down.
His body crumpled—his knees buckling, his arms giving out, his flesh surrendering to the weight of everything he had done. The damage hit him all at once—every wound, every strain, every limit he had pushed beyond—and it was so hard that he could only scream.
"AAAAAAHHHHHHHH!"
The sound tore from his throat—raw, primal, agonized. It carried across the water, lost in the chaos, drowned by the storm.
He could not move a muscle. Could not even move a single bone. His body was a prison of pain, a tomb of flesh, a monument to his own willfulness.
If there was a limit to human nature, for sure he had pushed past it. And now he had nothing beyond it.
Was this his end? Was this the end of Gareth?
He lay on the deck, his body broken, his breath shallow, his will flickering like a candle in the wind.
He laughed.
"Haha." His voice was weak, barely a whisper. "This is really stressful."
He closed his eyes.
"I wish I could move on." He paused. "That wish has been granted."
He opened his eyes—just slightly, just enough to see the grey sky above.
"But perhaps..." He took a ragged breath. "...have I pushed it too much? Have I gone too hard on myself?"
---
The Black Ledger looked at him.
His face—broken, bloody, ruined—was filled with confusion. His one remaining eye studied Gareth's fallen form, cataloging every wound, every weakness, every limit that had finally been reached.
"Hey." His voice was quiet, almost curious. "What is this?"
He took a step forward.
"What did you believe this was?" He paused. "A story?"
He cleaned his face—wiping the blood from his cheeks, his chin, his forehead. He ripped the clothes he was wearing, tearing them into strips, using them to bind his wounds.
"Anatomy is superior to anything." His voice hardened. "Nothing is above it."
He finished bandaging his stump.
"The human body has its limits." He looked at Gareth. "Anything beyond it is fantasy."
He took another step forward.
"Even I..." He touched his chest—over his heart. "...I am nearing my limit."
He smiled—a thin, bloody, fear-filled expression.
"Now..." He reached down and grabbed a knife from the deck. "...I will kill you."
---
He walked slowly forward.
His steps were unsteady. His body was broken. His will was burning. He held the knife in his remaining hand, its blade gleaming in the storm-light.
"You know..." His voice was quiet, almost conversational. "...simply because of my belief in health, it is not a reason for me to turn my mind against any other belief."
He stopped.
"Of course I do." He smiled. "There was even a time I believed in religion."
He laughed—a short, bitter, broken sound.
"You may ask me why. Why would I believe in something like religion?" He paused. "Well, that's the source of how I learned the medical arts."
He took another step forward.
"It was the only way I could learn a thing about the human body in full." His voice hardened. "But after some time, they saw me as a devil that had come to steal the secrets of the church."
He laughed again.
"So I was persecuted." He paused. "And chased away."
He looked at Gareth.
"HAHAHA."
"But here I am." He spread his arms. "The greatest doctor of the sea."
He touched his chest.
"I have mastered the human arts and seek to understand the world." He paused. "While I was there, I came to a very strange belief."
He smiled.
"It was called belief." His voice was soft, almost reverent. "The idea of belief so strong that one could believe in something that it could give them so much strength—a level of strength that could be said could defy fate."
His expression darkened.
"I've hated that." He shook his head. "So you know what I thought about it?"
He paused.
"Hehehe." He smiled. "It could be only the brain that could achieve that."
He took a step forward.
"I have come to a conclusion." His voice hardened. "There is a way for one to assume control of the brain—thereby bringing such a level of power out."
He looked at Gareth.
"Honestly..." His voice dropped. "...I don't know what would happen if I were to kill you and take out your brain."
His one remaining eye gleamed.
"Would I be able to recreate the same thing?"
His eye—the one that was gone—kept bleeding.
The chapter ended there—in the space between the doctor's obsession and the devil's acceptance, between the knife in his hand and the brain he hungered to understand.
Gareth lay on the deck.
The Black Ledger approached.
And the sea roared