“I am Edward Teach”, smiled the man, pearly white teeth contrasting his medium-length, black hair. “But you can call me Black Beard.”

The vice-admiral’s blood was still dripping from his sword, as Black Beard stood triumphant over the man’s fresh corpse.

“And a member of our-“ the man with the Madred amulet tried to speak, but one look from Black Beard made him shut up and focus on trying to shrink himself.

“What is your name, Arknas kid?” he asked, gazing at Vreil’s eyes.

“Vreil”, he replied.

“Would you like to join me, Vreil?” he smiled. He was injured, tired, and surrounded, and yet he was still in the mood for recruiting. “Everyone else here will die, including the elf. So will all your friends from the White House. I offer amnesty to you if you join my side, but think carefully before you answer: I never ask anything twice.”

“So if I join you, I will survive while everyone else will die?”

“Exactly”, Black Beard smiled again, without a care in the world.

“How about fuck you?” Vreil drew his sword, aiming it at the pirate. His original shock had finally worn off, and his words dripped venom as he spoke. “You took my family, Black Beard. I am going to kill you.”

“Ah, I see. That is unfortunate”, Black Beard’s eyes sparkled, a blue and brown light. “I will grant your wish to die then. Victory is mine, and always will be.”

“That remains to be seen. Come if you dare.” Drawing their swords, the four of them formed a half-circle around Black Beard. They could hear their blood pumping behind their ears. Surprisingly, Pier too drew his sword and came to their aid.

“What? He said he wanted to kill me too.”

Edward Teach calmly observed them, assessing the situation. “Little John”, he said. “Now you can come.”

Little John, the mountain bandit who wasn’t really little, stood up and approached the encirclement. For a moment, they stood in silence, sharp blades reflecting the sunlight invading through the windows. Vreil was the first to charge, and then everyone burst into motion.

Blades danced at blinding speeds, clashing again and again, filling the large room with the sounds of metal grinding against metal.

Despite his size, Little John was not that dangerous. Using the sword-spinning technique he had copied from Vreil, Arthur managed to quickly kill him. However, Little John had served his purpose. Black Beard already had complete control over the rhythm of the battle and he was like a hurricane of blades, unpredictable, unstoppable, and unapproachable. Milos almost lost his head once, but Pier saved him by deflecting the attack.

That was another surprise; despite his frail looks, Pier was a pretty good swordsman. He had neither strength nor speed, yet it was like he could predict his opponent’s moves. Black Beard presented a small opening and Vreil managed to graze his chin, but that opening was created when Black Beard’s sword cut deep through Arthur’s left bicep. With a scream, the big man fell to the ground.

Nigel was next. In a single move, Edward Teach disarmed him and struck his windpipe with his spare hand. Nigel fell to the ground, coughing and struggling to breathe.

Only three opponents were left now for Black Beard. Vreil, Milos, and Pier.

Truthfully, the only reason Black Beard couldn’t just steamroll over them was the vice-admirals’ valiant battle before. The pirate captain was injured and exhausted. Even if his short dialogue with Vreil gave him a small respite, he was still nowhere near his usual level.

Despite that, he was strong; too strong.

Black Beard pushed them until their back was against the wall, and then he began slamming them, strike after strike, while they struggled to defend.

But even as the battle raged, Vreil’s eyes flashed, and he was gradually getting used to Black Beard’s movements. His sword sped up, clashing against the pirate’s harder and harder. They were still disadvantaged but, as time went by, Black Beard became weaker while Vreil grew stronger. The difference in power was thinning, slowly but surely.

If only they could last, they could win.

Black Beard knew that too, and his eyes widened in surprise at Vreil’s strength. He lashed out again and again, striking harder and more desperately each time, but he was held at bay by the collective efforts of the three men.

“Priest!” barked Black Beard, his eyes wide with effort. “Assist me!”

And yet, the scrawny old man did not move. He remained hidden in the corner, shivering in fear.

“Fucking coward”, Black Beard spat out, and he redoubled his efforts. He was no longer playing safe. His attacks were deeper, stronger, riskier. Some penetrated the three mens’ defenses, drawing blood but failing to inflict critical injuries. His body was accumulating injuries too, adding new blood onto the previously shed one.

The three men managed to push back as Black Beard’s strength faltered, escaping the wall they’d been pushed to. They kept fighting, swords flashing at tremendous speed, one blade fending off three. They gradually pushed the pirate back and now it was his back against the wall, unable to retreat further.

Black Beard fought desperately, like a cornered animal, like a rabid dog, and his eyes were red with fury.

Vreil was at the peak of his power surge. He had never before been stronger. Metal flashed at incredible speeds and he could follow it, his sword filling the gaps of his two remaining companions.

But even if he was strong, stronger than ever before, he was exhausted. His limbs felt heavy, his mind muddled, his lungs unable to sustain his effort. It was a weird sensation because, even though he could feel these, he remained unaffected. His limbs felt heavy yet moved even faster than before.

That did not last. Vreil was fighting above his weight class, and his stamina was depleting rapidly. Black Beard was exhausted, and yet he stubbornly refused to fall.

But then the pirate made a mistake. Vreil saw Black Beard’s intentions in his eyes, even before the sword moved. Like a snake, it lunged towards Pier’s chest with such speed it was almost impossible to see.

Vreil had seen the attack coming, and he could stop it. But he did not.

Instead, at the same time Black Beard attacked, Vreil did too. He allowed the black sword to strike at Pier while he aimed at Black Beard’s hand, channeling as much of his remaining magic power into body strengthening, drawing further inside him than he ever had.

The pirate struck Pier, who barely managed to move aside. The sword ripped through the edge of his lower torso, making the elf fall to the ground screaming, but alive.

Vreil’s sword struck against Black Beard’s at the same time that he struck Pier. With the clang of metal on rock, a black sword fell to the ground, along with two fingers. Black Beard screamed, clutching his mutilated hand.

Vreil stumbled, kneeling to the ground with his hands around his head. He screamed too, but he was deaf to his own voice. The headache caused by scratching the bottom of his magic reserves was so overwhelming, so agonizing, that Vreil clutched his own head to prevent it from breaking apart. It really felt it would; the pain was unbearable, unimaginable, and the sweet release of fainting never came.

Only Milos was still upright and armed, and his sharp claws wrapped around Black Beard’s throat. He did not kill him, but forced him to the ground, subduing him.

“Stay still”, he ordered through gnashed teeth, doing his best to restrain his bestial urges.

The pirate laughed, the sound interspersed with screams. With Milos’ claws still wrapped around his throat, he banged his head against the rock floor.

“Damn it!” he screamed. “Damn it all!”

“You lost, Black Beard”, Milos spoke confidently, and the pirate only gave him a sad smile, blood dripping from his forehead.

“At least I went down fighting”, he replied, panting. “I may have lost, but the White House is done for.”

They all looked outside the windows, where the battle was still raging. Just as they did, a huge boulder landed on one of the pirate ships at the back of the central battlefield, crushing and sinking it. Black Beard’s were wide as saucers.

“What?” he blurted out, seeing his catapults harm his own ships. There was no reason to miss by that much.

By the side, the soldier of the White House smiled.

“We sent some men to take over the catapults. It’s good to see they finally did it”, he said.

Black Beard looked at him like the man had just told him magic didn't exist. "That's impossible", he said disbelievingly. "The Sword of the Devil..." Then his mouth abruptly slammed shut and a grim look took over his face.

While everybody was looking outside, Vreil had finally recovered enough to move. His head still felt as if it was filled with wriggling centipedes, but he still made his way towards Black Beard, grasping the handle of his fallen sword.

“Vreil”, Milos spoke warningly, having noticed Vreil’s approach. The young Arknas ignored him, staring at Black Beard.

“Go on”, said the pirate. “Kill me. It is all over anyway.”

“There is a fate far worse than death waiting for you, scum”, Vreil’s eyes spasmed with hatred. “You will be paraded, as the humiliated loser you are. You will be imprisoned, tortured, and made to suffer. No, death is too light a punishment for you.”

“Heh”, Black Beard spat at the floor, directly in the pool of blood formed by his missing fingers. “Then what are you here for? To brag?”

“No”, Vreil smiled wickedly. “I am here because you still owe me. For my family.”

Vreil’s sword flashed, and Black Beard’s mutilated left arm was cut cleanly off at the shoulder. It fell to the ground like a fleshy bag, splashing against the pirate’s own blood. Black Beard screamed again, watching his own arm lying on the ground in disbelief, and then his exhaustion overcame him; he fainted.

The soldiers looked on grimly, as did Milos, Nigel, and Arthur. Nobody spoke.

Only Pier moved quickly, clutching his own side as he hurriedly removed a set of bandages from a pocket. He rushed at Black Beard, treating him first even as he still bled.

“I’ll be fine”, he smiled weakly, answering the questioning looks he received. “You need him alive, right?”

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Having lost control of their secret weapon, the catapults, and not receiving any orders from their leader, the pirates were faced with low morale and the odds being against them.

The difference in numbers was too big, and the White House’s commanders were not as weak as their captain had told them. In the central battle, they were still overwhelmingly outnumbered, and the elven reinforcements in the two flanks were only meant to serve as distractions. Of course, the pirates in the ships weren't informed of the elven sneak attack on the White House flagship.

They surrendered. The pirates were a ragtag bunch anyway, only fighting for themselves. Who would risk his life fighting against the odds? Better try to escape later.

In his borrowed sailor armor, vice-admiral Akai noticed the signs of surrender from the pirate fleet. His clothes were full of blood, but none of it was his own. He sent the order to stop fighting and, without putting on his normal uniform again, hurried to see the pirate commanders. There was definitely something suspicious to this battle, and he would certainly find out what.

Vice-admirals Aoki and Kiza had already understood that the elves posed no threat and were ready to crush the pirates when the order to stop fighting arrived. They were relieved, they already had much more casualties than they first expected. No more people would have to die today.

Black Beard may not be dead yet, but the Black Beard pirates were done for. A couple of hours later, as he boarded the ship that was here to pick them up, Vreil looked at the sky.

“Father, mother,” he said, “I have avenged you.”

His eyes were wet, but not a single tear was let out.

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A few hours away from Black Beard’s pirate base lay a small, uninhabited island. The only impressive thing about it was the small fleet of submarines lounging on the water’s surface, close to the beach. Strange, naval warfare weapons could be seen lining the sides of each vessel.

An elf dressed in elegant navy blue robes sat on a chair made of wood on the beach. She was beautiful, with delicate features, and her body was not so much curvaceous as it was elegant.

She was currently gazing upon a man kneeling in front of her. On his back was a banner, with the words "Sword of the Devil" written on it.

"Partial success", she finally said. "Although not as much as we would have liked, the humans' navy has been weakened enough. Your performance can be considered passable."

"Thank you, admiral", the man replied without raising his head.

"You may rise", she told him, her voice as calming as the waves. "It's a pity about Pier's betrayal, but we had long suspected it. Someone of his caliber with only a ship like that? Please." she sneered, turning to the man beside her.

"Let them know that the first phase is complete. They can proceed to the second one."