Damon's Ascension-Chapter 77: Damon’s Message To The Universe Will 2

The sailors barely had time to react before Damon was upon them.

A silver blur streaked across the deck, weaving between lantern-lit shadows with inhuman fluidity. The first man to raise his musket was met with a brutal fate as Damon closed the distance in an instant, seizing the barrel of the weapon and wrenching it sideways with such force that the sailor’s wrist snapped audibly.

Before he could even scream, Damon spun behind him and drove the Energy Flintlock into the back of his skull, and with a flash of green light, his head was gone. The body slumped forward, crumpling like discarded rags.

The second sailor fired his matchlock, but Damon was already gone. A flash of movement at the sailor’s flank was all the fellow noticed before his throat was slashed open with a crescent arc of moonlight that revealed itself to be a sharp dagger of ice in Damon’s grip.

The sailor collapsed to his knees, choking on his own blood as it poured down his chest. His hands clutched desperately at his throat, his wide eyes filled with disbelief, unable to accept how easily death had come for him.

Despite their fear, two more sailors charged forward as they let out war cries to bolster their courage, cutlasses raised as they aimed to slash Damon into pieces.

Damon easily avoided the first with a casual twist of his flexible body, his ice dagger sweeping up in a sharp motion that redirected the blade just enough for it to miss.

With the same fluidity, he stepped inside the sailor’s guard and buried his left palm into the man’s gut. A burst of cold erupted from his hand, moonlight crystallizing into raw frost that instantly froze the sailor from within.

The man’s body stiffened in mid-motion, his face locked in a frozen scream before Damon shattered him with a casual backhand strike, ice fragments scattering across the deck.

The second sailor lunged wildly in a panic. His blade slashed downward, but Damon immediately caught his wrist with an iron grip and pulled sharply.

The momentum sent the sailor stumbling forward, directly into Damon’s waiting knee that connected with his average face, a sickening crunch sounding out as his nose shattered, blood spraying into the air.

Damon didn’t let go at all, rather he twisted the sailor’s arm violently, spinning him around before driving his ice dagger straight through his spine. The dagger elongated during its insertion, punching out through the sailor’s chest, its body glistening with blood under the moonlight that quickly froze.

More men stormed onto the deck, some shouting orders, others too terrified to do anything but grip their weapons with shaking hands. With enough orders roared into their ears, they at least managed to fan out with their muskets raised, ready to shoot the enemy into Swiss cheese.

Damon exhaled slowly, gradually regaining the stamina he had burned through by overusing Silver Eclipse in such a short span, even with the nighttime buff. It was clear that boosting Fortitude should be his next priority, perhaps even before Mobility.

In the next moment, Damon vanished from the sight of everyone. The air turned frigid as Silver Eclipse’s silencing domain wrapped the small battlefield in a suffocating silence. Shadows thickened unnaturally, the lanterns flickering and dimming as if consumed by an unseen force, like a demonic creature was trying to put them out in order to manifest itself.

The sailors hesitated, eyes darting around in confusion as fear and worry surged into their hearts. One sailor felt a touch on the nape of his neck, one that was icy cold and filled with malice.

Due to his ensuing yelp, another sailor fired their musket blindly, the flash of gunpowder barely illuminating the deck before Damon reappeared behind them.

Another sailor turned just in time to see a shimmering crescent of moonlight form around Damon’s arm like a blade. Then his vision blurred as his head was easily separated from his shoulders, tumbling across the deck before his body realized it was already dead.

Damon moved through them like a phantom, accelerating and decelerating enough to make him a blur... a silver specter of death. He stepped past one sailor, his arm slicing across in a clean arc, casually severing the man’s Achilles tendons in a single motion.

The sailor collapsed while screaming in pain only for Damon to drive his foot into the fellow’s skull, silencing him forever by crushing it with ease. His comrade raised his cutlass desperately, swinging wildly. Damon ducked, pivoted behind him, and reached around to grip the sailor’s jaw with one hand, his other pressing against the back of his head.

And with a sharp twist and a pop, the sailor’s body crumpled lifelessly as his neck was snapped with such force that even the skin tore slightly. Two more ran for the bell, their panicked footsteps thudding against the deck as they wisely decided that fighting against Damon was impossible without the entire crew here.

Damon extended his hand as two slivers of concentrated moonlight materialized in his palm, forming lances of ice that were jagged and razor-thin. With a casual flick of his wrist, he sent them flying using the power of moonlight as opposed to his own strength like before, but the speed was no less in this instance.

The first lance pierced cleanly through one sailor’s throat, pinning him to the mast as he convulsed in silence. The second lance buried itself into the other’s spine, severing the connection between brain and body instantly as he hit the floor face-first, twitching once before going still.

The deck had long since turned into a scene of a massacre that was becoming bloodier by the second.

The remaining sailors, those too slow or too terrified to act, stood frozen in place, their weapons trembling in their hands. One man fell to his knees, his grip on his musket slackening as he attempted to beg this death god for mercy.

Damon stepped forward, his expression impassive, the silver glow in his eyes flickered like the distant stars above, like the child of the moon descended upon this lowly planet.

Damon raised the Energy Flintlock and aimed, channeling energy from his Devour’s ’first stomach’ into the loading bay.

There was a flash of familiar green light, and the end result was that there was a hole where a head used to be. The last man let out a choked gasp and turned to run, tears in his eyes as he began to cry like a child that had seen the boogeyman.

However, there was no way for him to outrun Damon who accelerated forward with a gust of wind as he caught the sailor by the back of his uniform and yanked him backward, spinning him around before slamming him against the mast.

The sailor sputtered, his breath hitching as Damon pressed the barrel of the Energy Flintlock under his chin very gently.

"Where is the captain of this ship?" Damon’s voice was as cold as the night.

The sailor’s lips trembled, his fear palpable. His mouth opened and closed like a fish at sea, fear too thick to even allow him to form any thoughts as he urinated on himself, almost spraying Damon with the filth.

Damon’s cold expression warped into slight disgust as he pulled the trigger and released his grip on the headless body.

The sailor’s body jerked once before sliding down the mast, yet another lifeless heap on the bloodstained deck which had shards of ice here and there that refused to melt even when exposed to the outside air.

Silence reigned once more, leaving only the sound of the waves slapping against the bow of the ship.

Damon turned toward the captain’s quarters, where this bunch of sailors had rushed out from. The door was still closed, but the candlelight flickering from within suggested someone was still inside.

The captain was likely still oblivious to the fact that his crew had been wiped out in mere moments. From his perspective, they had simply gone to investigate the disturbance and handle it. At worst, he would assume that some ’cargo’ had regained strength after being fed, broken its shackles, and made a desperate bid for freedom on the deck.

Damon exhaled, rolling his shoulders and cricking his neck as he walked towards the pantry area of the ship, aiming to eat and rest for a bit to recover his stamina, for the slaughter was far from over.

He arrived in the pantry area and saw the ship’s cook who was doing some preparatory work for tomorrow’s meals, his back turned to Damon who entered without concealing himself.

The cook didn’t even bother to turn as he cursed loudly.

"Bloody hell, can’t I get a moment’s peace to work? You lot eat like cursed wraiths! Keep this up, and we’ll be starving long before we reach the mainland. Now piss off and quit pestering me!"

Damon smiled. "Sorry about that good sir, just a small morsel to alleviate the nightly pangs, please?"

The cook grunted with satisfaction. "Hmph, at least you’ve got some manners. And your English is pretty damn proper, the rest of those bastards would’ve been cursing and threatening me by now. Have they finally wised up and sent a newbie over?"