The sea smelled like salt and treachery.


    Rage leaned over the railing of the creaking galleon, watching shadows of leviathans glide beneath the waves. Aselia stood behind him, sharpening a dagger forged from star-iron. Her loyalty sigil pulsed faintly under her shirt—a subroutine he’d coded to trigger cardiac arrest if her "devotion" dipped below 100%.


    “Next time,” she growled, “we ride horses.”


    “Horses don’t sail,” Rage said, flicking a rusted coin into the water. It sank silently. “Also, what horses?”


    Corallis loomed ahead—a jagged crown of bioluminescent coral, its reefs clawing at the sky like broken teeth. The capital, Mariselle’s Seat, perched atop the central spire, its towers choked with seaweed and ancient siege scars. Below, pirates circled in weathered ships: galleons with tattered sails, hulls barnacled and streaked with blood.


    Aselia sniffed. “Smells like low tide and bad decisions.”


    “Home sweet home,” Rage muttered.


    <hr>


    The throne room was a cavern of drowned opulence. Faded tapestries depicted forgotten battles, and chandeliers of coral cradled dying glow-worms. Queen Mariselle sat rigid on a throne of whalebone, her scaled gown shimmering like abalone. Her face, framed by silver-streaked hair, was a mask of icy composure.


    <SYSTEM> [Queen Mariselle – Lv. 52][Class: Tide Sovereign][STATUS: Poisoned (Chronic)]


    Her advisors—sallow-skinned nobles in moth-eaten velvets—hissed as Rage approached.


    “Another vagabond,” spat a minister. “Her Majesty has no use for gutter-born wanderers.”


    Rage ignored him, pressing a hand to Mariselle’s wrist. Code flickered:


    body{health: 100% !important; poison: none; }


    Mariselle inhaled sharply, her posture stiffening as black venom dripped from her lips. Her pallor flushed to regal gold. “You… restored me?”


    “Basic CSS. Your diagnostics were a tragedy.”


    The nobles recoiled. One drew a flintlock—Rage seized his arm, injecting:


    rm -rf /loyalty/


    The man collapsed, foaming. “The depths… promised… power…”A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    “That’s what I thought,” Rage said. “It’s always the demons.”


    <hr>


    Chaos erupted at dawn.


    The Pirate King’s armada descended—a fleet of black-sailed warships, their decks swarming with cutthroats in tricorn hats and frayed silks. Their leader, Red Sam, a hulking brute with a barnacle-encrusted cutlass, stood atop the flagship’s forecastle, roaring curses.


    “Cannon crews!” Rage barked, slamming his palm against the nearest gunpowder crate. Code surged:


    payload = "Manhattan_Project";


    “I…am…atomic,” Rage signals to start the bombardment. “Damn, that was cringe…but that was the point of the series and I liked it.”


    The cannons shuddered, their iron barrels glowing as they launched not iron, but spheres of condensed light. They struck Red Sam’s fleet—and the world turned white. Ships vaporized in sun-bright explosions, masts splintering into ash.


    Aselia leapt onto the shore, where pirates scrambled through the shallows. Her blade—a silver longsword etched with celestial runes, its edge shimmering like liquid starlight—cleaved through raiders. “Sword of the Silver Sword? Pathetic name for a weapon,” she scoffed, severing a brigand’s pistol arm.


    Rage grinned. “It’s vintage — it brings back memories”


    Red Sam bellowed, stomping through the crumbling palace halls toward Mariselle’s throne, his boots cracking the coral floor. “I’LL DROWN YOUR BONES IN—”


    A harpoon pierced his chest.


    Rage squinted at the figure emerging from the smoke. “Is that… Jack Spa—”


    A crewmate in a salt-crusted bandana rushed to Baltimore. “Captain! Yer chain’s be jammed!”


    Baltimore stepped forward, his frock coat salt-stained, his grin sharper than his cutlass. With a grunt, he heaved the harpoon’s hemp rope harder which fixed the problem, its iron links screeching against a rusted winch bolted to the deck. The Pirate King clawed at the ground, barnacle-covered chain tightening around his legs as Baltimore dragged him backward. “Tides change, mate.” The winch groaned, wood splintering, as Red Sam was hauled over the shattered railing and into the frothing sea. Jagged coral reefs snagged his coat, and the weight of his own cutlass—still gripped in his fist—pulled him deeper, until the waves closed over his snarling face.


    <hr>


    After the battle, Baltimore swaggered into the throne room, tossing Red Sam’s severed ring onto Mariselle’s lap. “Your throne’s secure, Your Majesty. For now.”


    Mariselle’s voice was glacial. “Your… assistance is noted.”


    “Assistance?” Baltimore chuckled. “Call it an audition. Every kingdom needs a new villain.” He winked at Rage. “Or an ally…savvy?”


    Mariselle rose, her gaze piercing. “Coralis requires stability. A union… to dissuade further rebellions.”


    Aselia snorted. “Just say ‘marriage.’”


    Rage raised an eyebrow. “Oh, this shit again?”


    “Political union,” Mariselle said coldly. “My people crave tradition. A queen wedded is a queen shielded.”


    That night, in a chamber draped with moth-eaten silks, Mariselle stood by the window, moonlight sharpening her silhouette. “This is not a romance,” she said, her voice like frosted steel.


    “Obviously,” Rage replied. “Romances require flowers, candies, dates and VCDs.”


    “What’s a Bee Sea Daze?”, she inquired. Puzzled.


    “See These —”, Rage is about the finish a legendary line.


    “Swear loyalty. In oath and blood,” She interrupted sharply.


    He did.


    At dawn, she was gone—back to her charts and treaties. Baltimore had vanished too, leaving only a scrap of parchment: “The sea’s a stage. Try not to drown.”


    <SYSTEM> [Queen Added: Mariselle][Loyalty: 88%][Perk: Armada Command Unlocked]


    <System> Corruption Level: 47%.


    <System> New Quest: [Survive the flatness].