System in Assassin's Creed

Chapter 79: Chapter 78: What is this sorcery!?

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Alaric just smirked, cracking his knuckles. ”Heh... I guess it’s my time to shine...”

Before Oldgate could react or question him, Alaric sprinted towards the starboard railing. He launched himself upwards and outwards in a powerful leap that defied gravity.

Oldgate stared, dumbfounded.

Yes, the frigate was closer now, maybe preparing to throw planks across, but it wasn’t that close. ’Definitely not that close!’

The gap was easily twenty meters of open water. Yet, he watched as Alaric soared through the air, covering the distance with impossible speed and grace, landing silently on the enemy frigate’s deck amidst a group of pirates preparing their grappling hooks.

”...”

The captain’s jaw dropped. He stared at the spot where Alaric had landed, then back towards the other frigate where Reuben was still a whirlwind of death.

”I know there are Assassins and Templars running around the world...” Oldgate muttered to the empty air and shook his head in disbelief. ”...but these boys, Alaric and Reuben... what in the nine hells are they!?”

---

Alaric landed lightly on the balls of his feet as the impact barely made a sound on the wooden deck.

Around him, perhaps a dozen pirates that noticed him froze, startled by his sudden appearance. They stared, weapons half-raised, momentarily confused.

That was all the time Alaric needed as he moved...

It wasn’t like the whirlwind fury of Reuben, guided by an external force. It was something else entirely... pure, more precise, and almost lazy efficiency.

He didn’t even unseal his Kusanagi as his hands remained relaxed at his sides until the first pirate lunged.

”How brave!”

Alaric swayed slightly, the pirate’s cutlass slicing empty air inches from his coat. He didn’t even seem to move his feet.

As the pirate stumbled past from his own momentum, Alaric’s hand shot out, grabbing the man’s wrist, twisting sharply. A sickening crack echoed, and the pirate screamed, dropping his weapon.

Alaric used the man’s own forward motion to spin him around, shoving him directly into the path of two other charging pirates. They collided in a tangle of limbs.

Another pirate fired a flintlock pistol at point-blank range. However, Alaric casually tilted his head as the lead ball zipped past his ear.

Before the pirate could react or draw another weapon, Alaric closed the distance in a single step, his palm striking the man’s chin with an audible snap. The pirate’s eyes rolled back, and he crumpled.

The deck, crowded with nearly one hundred and eighty pirates moments before Alaric’s arrival, became a stage for his terrifyingly calm dance of death.

He flowed between opponents, using their own weapons, their own bodies, their own momentum against them.

He disarmed a large brute swinging a heavy axe, caught the axe mid-air, and embedded it in the chest of a pirate trying to flank him.

He kicked a dropped cutlass into the shin of another attacker, causing him to howl and fall, then stomped hard on the man’s throat as he passed.

A musket was leveled at him but Alaric swiftly yet effortlessly grabbed the barrel, redirecting the blast harmlessly towards the sky, then used the long weapon as a lever to slam the pirate face-first into the deck.

He snatched a flintlock from a belt, fired it into the pirate charging behind him without looking *BANG!* and tossed the empty weapon aside.

Swords swung at him, daggers stabbed, bullets flew, but none connected.

It was uncanny....

He moved with minimal effort, slight shifts of weight, perfectly timed dodges, using one attacker’s body to block a bullet meant for him, tripping another over a fallen comrade.

Despite all this, his clothes remained untouched... and unstained. He wasn’t even breathing heavily from all the action.

Fear began to spread like wildfire among the pirates. They were facing something inhuman.

”T-This...”

”We’re fighting a demon!”

”This is impossible!”

”H-How...?”

Murmurs from a different language spread like wildfire, but Alaric understood all of them.

From the galleon’s helm, Oldgate watched the unfolding massacre, his earlier shock turning into something closer to awe-struck terror.

”The other side has been won due to the demon kid Reuben,” he muttered, watching Reuben finally clear the deck of the first frigate, standing amidst the carnage. ”But this kid Alaric... facing hundreds of pirates on his own... what the hell.”

Alaric continued his effortless purge. Pirates hesitated now as their attacks were becoming sloppy, and their fear became obviously palpable.

He moved through them like a ghost, each brief, precise movement resulting in another downed opponent.

A palm strike here, a kick there, a disarm, a redirected blow. Within minutes that felt like an eternity, the chaos subsided.

”...”

”...”

”...”

Silence fell, broken only by the groans of the wounded and the crackle of small fires starting on deck.

Where one hundred and eighty pirates had stood ready to board, now only ten remained standing. The ship’s captain and his core officers, huddled together near the ship’s wheel, weapons trembling in their hands.

They stared at Alaric while their faces were pale with terror.

Seeing their chance, two of the officers suddenly broke ranks, scrambling towards the railing, desperate to jump overboard and escape the nightmare.

Alaric, who had casually picked up a fallen cutlass, didn’t even turn fully. He scoffed and kicked another cutlass lying on the deck. It spun end-over-end, flying with impossible accuracy to embed itself deep in the back of one fleeing officer’s neck.

Simultaneously, Alaric flicked his wrist, sending the cutlass in his hand whistling through the air to pierce the throat of the second officer just as he reached the railing.

Both bodies dropped lifelessly to the deck. The remaining eight pirates froze, any thought of escape extinguished.

The captain, a burly man with a scarred face, grit his teeth, trying to muster some courage.

”Men!” he shouted, his voice cracking slightly. ”We’ve had... we’ve had a long journey together! And I’m happy I get to die with you!”

He attempted a brave front, but his eyes darted nervously towards Alaric, and his officers couldn’t even lift their weapons, shaking too violently under the blonde’s calm and light-hearted stare.

Alaric offered a small, almost pitying smirk. ”You’re one good pirate,” he said, his voice quiet but carrying clearly across the deck.

”Tried to lift their spirits and all... you could have become even more notorious in the Caribbean, perhaps.” He paused, his smirk fading slightly. ”Too bad you met me.”

Alaric closed his eyes for a brief moment. When they snapped open again, they were no longer their normal color.

Instead, intricate, spinning red patterns blazed within them... the Eternal Mangekyo Sharingan.

”Let me show you guys some magic.”

’Vulcan!’

His Sharingan pulsed slightly as he slowly raised a single hand with his palm upwards.

All around the deck, dozens of fallen cutlasses, daggers, and even discarded pistols began to tremble. Then, slowly, impossibly, they lifted into the air, metal scraping against wood, until they hung suspended, dozens of sharp points aimed directly at the terrified captain and his remaining officers.

The pirates stared, their eyes wide with sheer, unadulterated terror. Weapons clattered to the deck from nerveless fingers. Several dropped to their knees, abandoning all hope.

”Lord God...”

”Mom...”

On the galleon, Oldgate watched with his mouth agape as his knuckles were white on the ship’s wheel.

”D-D-Damn...” he stammered, his voice barely a whisper. ”T-through all my years of living... what... what is this sorcery!?”

Oldgate saw Alaric, surrounded by floating death, glancing back towards the galleon and stared at his his eyes, a chilling smirk playing on the blonde’s lips lips.

Alaric then made a simple, almost dismissive forward motion with his raised hand.

The air filled with a chorus of sickening metallic shunks and wet tearing sounds. The floating weapons shot forward like angry hornets, converging on the remaining pirates from all directions.

Blades pierced flesh, bone, and wood indiscriminately. Bodies were riddled, impaled, and pinned to the deck and mast in a grotesque, gory display.

It was over in a second.

Silence returned, heavy and absolute, save for the gentle lapping of waves against the hulls. Alaric stood alone amidst the carnage, the floating weapons clattering back to the deck, his eyes returning to normal.

Oldgate stared at the horrific tableau on the frigate’s deck, then back at the calm figure of Alaric. A weak, trembling grin touched the captain’s lips, a grin born not of amusement, but of sheer, mind-numbing absurdity.

He had seen many things on the high seas, but nothing like this.

”I thought I’ve seen it all...”

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