"Ahhh!!!"
Without warning, one of the pirates was suddenly struck down by Kairos Flint's unseen attack. A deep, bloody wound appeared on his body, and his agonized scream echoed across the deck.
That scream wasn't the last.
They kept coming—one after another—as more pirates collapsed, cut down by a phantom they couldn't see.
"Where's the enemy?! Where is he?!"
Panic surged through the ranks of the Creek Pirates. It was terrifying. The enemy was completely invisible, and yet, one by one, their comrades were being killed.
It felt like the final seconds before execution—hopeless, silent, and suffocating. Fear built to its breaking point.
"Find him! Find that bastard!"
A few pirates shouted in desperation, trying to regain control and push back against the crushing fear.
But it was no use.
Screams filled the air, blood stained the wooden planks, and bodies fell like dominoes. The worst part? No one knew where the next strike would land.
Would it be their chest? Their leg? Their back? Their face?
The uncertainty was maddening.
Some felt like they might die from sheer terror before the sword even touched them.
"Ajin! Do something! Find that damn kid and kill him already!"
Captain Krieg's voice cracked with panic as he shouted.
Even he couldn't track Kairos's movements. The young man was simply too fast, vanishing before the eye could focus. That terrified Krieg more than anything.
If Kairos could move that fast, what would stop him from cutting Krieg down next?
As for Krieg's men?
He couldn't care less.
Krieg was cunning, ruthless, and utterly selfish. The lives of his underlings meant nothing to him. If they died, they died—there were always more thugs willing to sail under his banner. But he couldn't die. That was the difference.
Ajin, Krieg's right-hand man, grabbed his weapon and moved forward.
He was a capable fighter—captain of Krieg's elite force—but even he couldn't track Kairos's position. Slashes appeared out of nowhere. Wounds opened before their owners realized they'd been struck. The deck itself bore fresh gashes, and yet no one was visible.
Then it happened.
A sharp tearing sound split the air. Ajin's eyes widened as pain erupted from his shoulder.
Boom!
He dropped to his knees, gasping. A brutal sword mark ran from his left shoulder diagonally across his back, spilling blood across the deck.
The blow had come from nowhere—silent, sudden, and devastating.
He was completely outmatched.
"Keep him busy! Wear him down! That kind of technique must burn through stamina. He can't keep it up forever!"
Krieg shouted again, already backing away. He sprinted toward one of the other pirate ships nearby.
He was running.
This ship was no longer safe. If he stayed, he'd be the next to die. He needed to put some distance between himself and Kairos, let the others slow the killer down while he slipped away.
It was classic Krieg—cowardly, calculating, and cruel.
But—
Slice!
Just as Krieg was nearing the edge of the deck, a blade came down.
Right on his neck.
A clean cut. A perfect kill.
Thud.
Krieg's head rolled across the deck, his body slumping to the floor a moment later.
The fearsome "Admiral" Krieg, leader of the Creek Pirates, was dead on the spot.
Nobody expected it.
One second he was barking orders. The next, he was gone.
"The Captain's dead! Captain Krieg is dead!!"
"Demon! That guy's a demon! Run! Run for your lives!"
"I just want to go home—I don't want to be a pirate anymore! Please! Please let me live!"
The scene dissolved into chaos.
Panic. Screaming. Begging.
But none of it could stop Kairos Flint.
With the Third Generation Demon Sword in hand, he moved like a reaper—cold and unstoppable. Each swing of his blade claimed another life.
Blood flew.
Voices choked.
Lives ended.
On the other ships nearby, news of Krieg's death spread like wildfire.
Their horror deepened when they learned the killer hadn't stopped.
He was still going. Still killing.
Still harvesting pirate souls like a god of death.
"Turn the helm! Turn it now! Krieg is dead! We've got to get out of here before that monster reaches us!"
But it wasn't that simple.
With fifty ships docked so close together, maneuvering was a nightmare. There wasn't enough space to escape easily.
Meanwhile, aboard Krieg's flagship, Kairos was mopping up the last of the pirates.
It took effort.
There were a hundred of them on this ship alone—just one slice of the five thousand pirates Krieg commanded. But they fell all the same.
Kairos chewed another ability crystal, restoring his stamina mid-fight.
He saw what the other pirate ships were trying to do.
Escape?
Not on his watch.
He wasn't going to let a single one get away.
Even with fifty pirate ships, all it would take was eliminating the crews on the ones ahead. Without anyone to steer or defend, the rest wouldn't stand a chance. They'd be trapped. Dead in the water.
And by the time they fully realized that…
It would be far too late.
—
Thirty minutes later.
The sea had gone silent.
Not a single sound came from the fleet.
Blood stained the decks.
Bodies lay strewn in heaps.
The air was thick with death.
Every pirate aboard those fifty ships had perished.
The only one still standing—
—was Kairos Flint.
He stood motionless, the Third Generation Demon Sword dripping with blood, as if he had bathed in it.
The Creek Pirates… were completely annihilated.