Gareth held one of the Aztec warriors by the neck.
His fingers wrapped around the man's throat, squeezing, crushing, ending. The warrior's eyes bulged, his mouth opened, his life faded. Gareth smiled beneath his mask.
Darlington's voice echoed in his mind, smooth and calculating.
"Hey, Gareth." A pause. "I want you to try something when you're in battle."
He paused again.
"Though it will be a waste of energy, I want to see what happens when a large amount of force is put on someone."
Gareth said, his voice calm, almost conversational.
"Okay, that's nice." He tightened his grip. "But I have to finish the enemies that I have on my own platter first."
Darlington replied, his voice sharp, urgent.
"Well, there's no issue there." A pause. "Just finish it already."
His voice hardened.
"But please do not give the feeling of being too all-powerful and mighty."
Gareth said back to him, his voice light, almost amused.
"Well, that will be kinda hard to do, ya know." He looked around. "Everyone is everywhere."
He sprinted, jumping from ship to ship. His body moved like a shadow, like a ghost, like something that could not be caught. He landed on one ship, catching another Aztec warrior off guard. The man's eyes widened, his mouth opened, his hand reached for his weapon.
Gareth threw the spear through him.
SHLIK!
The blade pierced his chest, shattered his heart, and ended his life in an instant. The body fell to the deck, blood pooling around him. Gareth pulled the spear free, his movements fluid, practiced, deadly.
He moved to the next ship.
Another Aztec warrior stood on the deck, his bow raised, his arrow nocked. He fired a shot fast, precise, deadly. Gareth moved, his body twisting, his spear deflecting the arrow, his momentum carrying him forward. He closed the distance in an instant, his spear thrusting into the man's throat. The body fell, the blood sprayed, the life ended.
He moved to the next ship.
Three Aztec warriors stood together, their weapons raised, their faces hard. They had seen him coming, had prepared for him, had expected him. But they had not expected his speed. He moved like water, like wind, like a force of nature. His spear spun in his hands, its blade cutting through the first man's stomach, its shaft knocking the second off balance, its blunt end cracking the third's skull. They fell like dominoes, their bodies crumpling, their lives ending.
He moved to the next ship.
Five Aztec warriors stood in a circle, their arrows nocked, their bows drawn. They fired together a volley of arrows that should have filled the air, that should have pierced his body, that should have ended his life. He did not dodge. He did not run. He raised his spear and spun it, its blade deflecting every arrow, its shaft creating a shield of steel and wood. The arrows fell to the deck, useless, wasted. He charged forward, his spear thrusting, cutting, killing. Four bodies fell. The fifth tried to run. He threw his spear, its blade piercing the man's back, ending his life.
He moved to the next ship.
Seven Aztec warriors had taken cover behind the wreckage of a destroyed vessel. Their arrows flew from the shadows, their voices calling out in their native tongue, their faces hidden in the darkness. Gareth smiled beneath his mask. He did not need to see them. He could feel them their presence, their fear, their desperation. He threw his spear into the wreckage, its blade piercing through the wood, through the bodies, through the lives of three of them. He charged forward, his body launching into the wreckage, his fists and feet striking with brutal precision. Four more bodies fell.
He moved to the next ship.
Ten Aztec warriors had gathered on the deck of a large vessel, their weapons raised, their faces determined. They had decided to make a stand, to fight together, to die together. Gareth smiled. He raised his spear and charged, his body moving with a speed that blurred the air, his blade cutting through their defenses like paper. They fell one by one their bodies broken, their blood spilled, their lives ended. He stood among the bodies, his breath steady, his heart calm.
He moved to the next ship.
The remaining Aztec warriors scattered, their fear overwhelming their courage, their desperation driving them to flee. Gareth did not let them escape. He hunted them down one by one his spear finding each of them, his blade ending each of their lives. They tried to hide, tried to run, tried to fight. It did not matter. He was faster, stronger, more determined.
He killed them all.
Darlington's voice echoed in his mind, smooth and calculating.
"They are only six remaining."
Gareth smiled.
"Good," he said. "It's time to finish this."
in the space between the hunt and the end, between the warrior's strength and the enemy's fear.
Gareth stood among the bodies.
Darlington watched.
And the sea roared.