Celula read the reply and her eyes went wide. "Wait. Like that? Can we really do that?"

Monchhichi noticed the look on her face and asked what was wrong.

Once she heard Kevin’s idea, her eyes lit up too. "You’re right! What do we have to lose? The power of a Fireball round is just as good as a rocket!"

The two girls exchanged a look. They could see the same resolve in each other’s eyes. Then they both sprinted for the cockpit.

Strange and his crew watched in confusion. Monchhichi dropped the iron anchor without hesitation, and Celula yanked the mainsail down.

Stripped of sail power and dragged by the anchor, the boat ground to a sudden stop.

Strange chuckled. "Figures. When it comes down to life or death, women like them always cave."

A big guy by his side grinned, flashing a gold tooth. "Heh. Being used beats drowning any day. Guess those twins aren’t idiots."

Another thug smirked. "Hey, Mr. Strange, mind if we make a deal? I’m a clean-freak. Can I go first?"

Strange’s lip twitched. He studied the guy for a second, then nodded. "Don’t get all formal. You work for me, that makes you family. I’ll let you go first. I’ll follow right behind you."

The rest of the thugs burst into cheers. "Long live Strange! We’ll die for him!"

Pumped up, the thugs grabbed their oars and started rowing like mad. The thought of grabbing those twins had dirty grins spreading across their faces.

Luckily, the boat still had half its sail up. It couldn’t go full speed, but the wind was still pushing them forward.

Five hundred meters...

Four hundred meters...

Three hundred meters...

As the two girls came into sharp focus, the thugs started yelling like maniacs.

Strange stared straight ahead, his voice dropping. "Alright, listen up! Those girls are packing heat. Get behind cover and stay low!"

Everyone ducked down, slipping behind whatever cover they could find while pulling out their guns and knives.

Some gripped pistols, others held out knives. They all moved into fight mode without missing a beat.

Two hundred meters...

One hundred meters...

Fifty meters...

Monchhichi and Celula had already fallen back to the cockpit.

Neither side fired right away. They both knew to keep their heads down and stay hidden.

Strange frowned. "Those two bitches are dead set on laying an ambush."

He flicked his hand toward the thug next to him.

The guy nodded. He bent down, grabbed a bulletproof vest, and pulled a riot shield from the corner.

Once he was geared up, he hoisted the shield, stood up, and walked slowly toward the bow. With a quick jump, he landed right at the stern of their boat.

The moment his feet hit the deck, he crouched low and raised the shield, bracing for their shots.

But the bullets he expected never came.

He grinned and turned back to his crew. "Quit staring, get over here! Let’s close in and have some fun with those bitches!"

With that, he stepped forward, shield raised.

The other thugs were itching to jump in. They stood up one by one and carefully hopped over.

But the second their feet hit the deck, two red beams shot out from the cockpit, locking onto the final two thugs.

The Fixing Gaze pinned their bodies in place. They couldn’t move a muscle.

Two more gunshots cracked out. The Fireball rounds punched straight through their chests.

The flames burst right above their heads, swallowing half their bodies in an instant.

The other two thugs just stared, completely frozen in fear.

"Holy shit! What the hell did they just do?"

"Damn it! Those women... they’re using witchcraft! It has to be!"

Panic set in. They completely lost their heads.

The lead thug even forgot to hold up his shield.

Seizing the opening, the gunshots started again.

Not single shots this time. They kept pulling the trigger.

Celula and Monchhichi knew these guys were fast and wearing body armor. Still unsure how heavy the Fireball rounds really hit, they fired a few extra rounds.

Nine fireballs instantly bloomed across the deck, swallowing the last two thugs.

Strange and his two suit-wearing goons, standing right behind him, couldn’t even see what was happening.

When the smoke cleared, half the stern was already gone. The rocket had blown a hole, but the Fireball rounds tore most of it away.

Strange’s jaw tightened, a vein popping on his temple. "Fucking hell!"

He just lost four of his best men. His dream of ruling these waters was dead.

Strange gritted his teeth and charged forward.

With every step, his skin grew darker and duller. By the time he hit the bow, his whole body looked like black iron, gleaming with a cold metal shine.

Celula watched the change, her face going hard. "This guy’s Talent... isn’t some small-time trick."

She grabbed a bottle of blood-red Holy Spring and downed it in one go.

Monchhichi stood back, aimed her gun, and let her finish. She just focused on waiting for the right shot.

A red glow flared around her. Veins popped up all over her pupils.

The bright light struck Strange like lightning. He felt his whole body lock up, like something was pinning both his flesh and his mind in place.

"Do it!" Monchhichi pulled the trigger. The Fireball round shot straight for his forehead.

But the second the shot fired, Strange scrunched his face and pushed forward with all his might. He tore right through the red light. Celula’s The Fixing Gaze shattered in an instant.

Strange crossed his arms over his face. The round detonated, blowing flames everywhere and knocking him back five steps.

Monchhichi exhaled in relief. "Looks like it worked."

But Celula looked completely drained. Sweat poured off her, and her eyes were glassy and unfocused.

Two bottles of Holy Spring laced with Eldritch Eyes in a row had pushed her body and mind to the breaking point.

She glared at Strange, breathing hard. "Kevin said this move depends on the power gap... the bigger the gap, the shorter it lasts."

He’d only been pinned for less than a second. Celula’s heart sank. "Monchhichi, he’s way stronger than he looks. Don’t underestimate him."

Both girls turned toward the center of the ruined deck.

The flames cleared, and Strange stepped out, completely unharmed.

"He’s... he’s fine?" The twins blurted it out together, shock in their voices.

Strange felt the impact still ringing in his chest. A smirk tugged at his lips.

He looked up at the twins in the cockpit. A confident smile spread across his face. "Game over."

He pushed off the wood and launched himself straight onto the upper deck.

But the next time he looked up, his eyes went wide.

The girls leaped through the windows like gymnasts. They rolled and bounded across the railing in perfect, practiced succession. One second they were there, the next, they were gone.

Strange just stood there, stunned.

Who the hell were these girls?

Their combat skills were insane.

I just wanted to grab a couple of pretty girls. What kind of monsters am I fighting?

Meanwhile, Celula and Monchhichi sprinted toward the bow.

As they ran, they couldn’t believe their own legs.

Kevin’s C-Tier gear was actually this good. They hadn’t counted on it.

It had all been pure survival instinct. But instead of face-planting on the deck, they felt light as a feather. They moved like seasoned operators, darting through the shadows with lethal grace.

Celula’s opinion of Kevin had just shifted completely. "Monchhichi, Kevin actually gave us gear this good... what does he want from us?"

Monchhichi smiled. "Call it an investment, not an ulterior motive. He just sees a lot of value in us."

Celula pouted. "Just our value?"

Monchhichi teased. "What, you hope he’s here for your looks?"

They laughed it off as they reached the bow. Right in front of them, an attack helicopter hovered low, diving straight toward them.

Before they could even get close, a searchlight slammed into their faces. The glare forced them to squint.

The loudspeaker crackled to life. George’s voice cut through the wind. He whistled, looking them up and down. "Well now, ladies. Looks like you’ve found yourselves in a bit of a spot."

Celula looked straight up, frowning. "Are you with Kevin? Where’s his ship?"

She hadn’t finished when Monchhichi yanked her arm back, cutting her off.

But George had already heard it. His expression darkened instantly.

He locked eyes with her, his voice dropping to a dangerous edge. "You know Kevin? That guy you just mentioned... he isn’t the number one name on the kill leaderboard, is he?"

Monchhichi caught the malice in his tone. She stepped right in front of Celula, her voice flat. "Sir, we only did a trade with a Survivor named Kevin. We don’t know his background."

George didn’t answer. He just waved a hand, signaling the pilot to keep flying forward.

By then, Strange had caught up, bursting onto the bow of the sailboat.

The moment he saw him, he recognized him.

A metal ladder dropped from the helicopter. Eight soldiers descended in a line behind George, landing smoothly on the deck.

Strange’s smile turned polite. "Well, look at that. Leo’s head butler. Haven’t seen you in a year."

George’s grin widened. "Well, if it isn’t Mr. Strange of The Eye of Tarot. Tell me, are these two fine ladies your maids?"

He put a heavy, deliberate emphasis on the word.

Both girls caught the flippant tone. The underlying disdain was clear as day. He spoke to them like they were lambs waiting for the slaughter, or goods ready for the auction block.

...