The man in blue cloak landed on the ground.
His boots struck the rock with a soft thud, his body settling into a stance that was calm, measured, and absolute. He looked at Davina Jones at the blood pouring from her ruined eye, at the killing intent that flickered and wavered around her like a flame in the wind, at the rage that twisted her monstrous features.
He smiled.
Then he threw his gold sword towards her.
The blade spun through the air not like metal, not like steel, but like something else entirely. It didn't feel like a weapon anymore. It felt like a liquid, like water, like something alive. As it came to her, it stuck to her tentacles and then began to spread. Across her entire body, it acted like a living organism, coating her flesh, her scales, her monstrous form.
She roared in pain.
The sound tore from her throat raw, primal, agonized. Her killing intent, which had been so focused, so absolute, was completely disturbed. It flickered and wavered, losing its shape, losing its purpose.
The man marked with X saw this.
He pulled all his willpower together, coughing up blood, his body screaming in protest. He bit down on his own tongue at the very tip of it and felt a sharp pain fire from his head. It felt as if his entire body was being torn apart. It was that feeling that he needed.
To counter the pain in his abdomen, he needed another pain. And as those two pains clashed throughout his body, a rush of adrenaline flooded his entire system.
He rushed forward at the man in blue cloak.
This time, he was not with any weapons at all. He engaged in battle with nothing but his body. He attacked first with a kick fast, precise, deadly aimed at the man's head. The man in blue cloak dodged, his body flowing like water, and then bent down for a tackle.
The man in blue cloak jumped.
He gave him an elbow strike from above on his head CRACK! the impact shaking his skull, blurring his vision, sending him staggering. Then the man in blue cloak grabbed both of his hands while doing a backflip, throwing him to the ground.
CRASH!
His body slammed against the rock, the impact driving the air from his lungs. But the man with the X marked on his face was fast to react. He held the man's arm, condensing all of his muscles in his arm, and then went for a stab attack.
His fingers pierced into the man with the blue cloak.
But as he stabbed into him, it entered but it felt like his hand was in some sort of hollow space. There was no flesh, no bone, no resistance. Just emptiness.
The man in the blue cloak said to him, his voice calm, almost conversational.
"You have a gifted body." He paused. "But you never trained in the art of combat."
He tilted his head.
"Yeah." His voice hardened. "It shows a lot."
in the space between the strike and the revelation, between the banished one's desperation and the navy man's superiority.
The man with the X marked on his face stood, his hand still buried in the hollow space of his enemy's body.
The man in blue cloak smiled.
And the sea roared.