“Damnit, which one of you numb skulls didn't put their stuff below deck!?”

Animated by the oncoming storm, buckets, brooms and brushes tumbled all across the ship's forecastle. At the same time, the howling winds, blowing through the overhead rigging with worrying force, threatened to swallow Atau's voice, just like the seas threatened to swallow their entire ship. Although he was right at the heart of the problem, right atop the forecastle, it was a surprise that the sailors at fault for the mess could hear him at all. Luckily, the cultivator was large, and could elicit a volume to match his size. Thus, the men looked over as their first mate walked up the stairs with annoyance chiseled deep into his face. They didn't need this kind of trouble, not now.

“What are you doing, you bastards!? Stop standing around and get to work!”

Though at first some attempted to step up, not convinced by Atau's authority, it took only one look at their first mate for them to shrink away. Though Atau wasn't a monster like Fadelio, he was still massive compared to ordinary men. So they bent in submission. With their bodies lowered, the sailors were in prime position to clean up the hazards they had so carelessly left on deck. As the slack-offs got to work, Atau looked out to the ships, the Delahlia's bow, while he leaned on the railing.

The blue water had turned to white before them as the waves crashed against the submerged cliffs. Here, the two major streams of southern Arcavia would clash under the watchful eyes of ragged cliffs. Unpredictable weather, raging oceans, invisible reefs made of the hardest rock. The most dangerous place in the world. The Cape of Tears.

Worried, Atau observed the chaos as best as he could. Rocking and swaying like a punch-drunk fighter yet unperturbed their ship pressed on, up to the gates of the underworld, ready to face the destiny the World would present them. He really didn't like being trapped here. Atau would have preferred to be at his proper place, atop the quarterdeck, under the captain's instructions.

Over there, he could have seen how a real sailor would use all his experience to navigate his way through the colossal dangers ahead. Instead, the numb skulls behind him had forced Atau to come all the way to the ship's bow, just so they would do their jobs.

In the end, the first mate wasn't only worried about their course. Over the past few days, the previous signs of insubordination had disappeared without a trace, so their return at the most critical point in their journey didn't bode well for any of them. The sliding equipment had been hard to overlook, so clearly, they had refused to do their duties before their first mate had shown up, almost as if it had been done on purpose.

“Big Guy!”

As his worries mounted like the dark clouds did over his head, a terrified voice ripped the first mate out of his thoughts. He turned to find one of the men close in on him, crouched down in a widened stance. The knife in his hand glittered in a dangerous light.

Atau's eyes ripped open, from shock and anger, as the exposed sailor rushed over to finish the deed.

Wrong choice, buddy.

The first mate held onto the railing with his left as he bent his knees. Though the man's rush was ferocious, the unstable ship made his charge wild, uncontrolled. Keeping his balance with the railing's help, Atau slipped his right arm under the sailor's knife hand and pressed it up, high over the attacker's head. For a short second, the two fighters stood opposed, face to face. In the man's eyes, Atau could read a unique mix of fear, rage and determination. However, he wouldn't care about the thoughts of a traitor. A short slip of his waist and a quick grab and pull of his right hand were enough to help the hapless attacker's momentum. With a scream, he sailed over the railing and into the roiling waters below.

One down.

Atau barely took note of the desperation in the dead man's eyes before he turned to face the rest. Built up in a semi-circle around himself stood another four men. In the back, a fifth held onto Rallo, the cabin boy who had warned Atau of his impending doom. Though they held knives and sabers in their hands, they seemed unwilling to come closer for now, afraid to be the next man jumping ship early. With a further deepening frown, Atau looked past the attackers, to find the entire ship sunken into chaos, to reflect the stormy sea around them.

All across the main deck, fights and tussles had broken out between the sailors. Who was fighting whom, and why, was all but impossible to tell, but Atau still knew what was going on.

“So, who's been planning a mutiny?” he sneered as he asked the surrounding sailors. Not a sliver of fear was present in his voice. In the end, they were just mortals, and he himself a mighty warrior.

“Shouldn't have been so greedy, footlicker. Shoulda let someone else move up,” one of them answered. Toldo, Atau remembered. He had always gotten along quite well with the simple sailor, even after most of the reverers on board had turned against their new first mate.

“That's it? That's the reason?” Disbelief tinged Atau's voice, but no surprise. In war, there was no place for emotion.

“That not enough for ya?” Toldo showed his yellowed teeth as he lowered his stance. Just as Atau was about to answer, the first mate could feel something bump into his right boot. A quick look down revealed the same bucket he had seen before. Behind his back, the bastards hadn't even pretended to work. Somehow, this was far worse to Atau than their actual betrayal. He decided to beat it into them, both the loyalty and the work ethic. First he steadied his stance again. Falling to the ground now would be akin to a bull losing his feet in front of hyenas. Once his footing was secured, Atau bent down, slowly, and picked up the bucket. Solid oak, reinforced with iron. Not a great weapon, but it would do.

“Nah, it's enough,” he answered Toldo's question. “Let's get to work.”

With the final words spoken, the first mate of the Delahlia had gone and left behind the great warrior of Medala. With his body lowered like a puma on the prowl, Atau rushed towards the attackers. It was a bad position for normal combat, since height would bring all sorts of benefits, but on deck, a low point of gravity, and with it a good balance, would be more important than reach or angle.

First goal, the left one. Easy Target.

The quivering sailor stood there with his rusty knife, off to the side, clearly the weakest of the group. Stunned, the sailors just watched on as Atau closed in on them without fear. With both hands, the lone cub held out his knife to fend off the beast. It would be in vain. Atau swatted the limp arms away with a single swing of his bucket before his massive frame tackled the skinny sailor to the planks under a splash of water.

A sharp clink over the howling storm told Atau that the knife had fallen. Still, he'd have to act fast before reinforcements could arrive.

No time for compassion.

“No, please-” As the downed opponent's hands stretched towards Atau, mounted on the sailor's body, he begged for his life. It proved a poor choice. The bucket came down, past his hands and square into his face. As the improvised weapon lifted up once again, the bloody mess was only visible for the fraction of a second before the hardened wood smashed down again. Only visible between strikes, the damage increased like a picture book of horrors. Still, the warrior kept pounding.

Shoulda kept his hands close to the body. Gotta cover up first, the warrior thought as he finished his work.

Finally, he turned to look to the remaining men. Two of the leftover four were locked in place, shell-shocked by Atau's ferocity. Toldo, meanwhile, had proven himself a worthy man and attempted to close the distance to the one-sided battle. However, all he had managed in the few seconds of one-sided slaughter had been to slip around on the wet, swaying ship. As his eyes met Atau's, even he stopped. His blood calmed by the chilling gaze of the beast, Toldo shuffled back to his comrades, to seek strength in numbers. The warrior looked around himself, but the dead brat's knife must have slipped away somewhere on the fresh-cleaned floorboards.

Doesn't matter. This one's still good.

He raised his bloodied bucket together with his body, red chunks of skin and bone falling off both in the process. The three men made another step backwards, another step closer together.

Idiots. You can't fight in a formation this tight.

Just as the warrior was about to teach the sailors another lesson in warfare, a shrill voice interrupted his plans.

“Stop! One more step and your precious brat gets it!” The last of the men was the one Atau had taken the least notice of. All this time, he had been in the back of the group, so the warrior had ignored him to focus on the more immediate threats. However, now he pushed ahead, with Rallo held in his front and a saber's blade at the boy's throat.

“If you don't want the traitor to die you best drop that bucket over there.” Mistaking the warrior's reassessment for hesitation, the sailor's voice gained strength. Surely, he saw himself as the winner already. He must have imagined how the soft and friendly first mate would give up his weapon to talk him down from his folly.

“Kid.” However, Atau knew better. No good end would await them if he gave up now. It would only produce two corpses instead of one. Thus, he looked at the boy, wide-eyed and panicked as he was, and spoke, in a deep, solemn voice. “You're a brave one, a real man. If you won't find reward in this life, I hope you will in the next.”

Atau lowered his stance again, ready to jump the heinous attacker, ready to risk the boy's life to stop the mutineers, when a dull crash stopped him again. A crash and the ship slowed down to veer left, as all of them were thrown across the deck. Within the confusion of battle, they had run on a reef. Atau had no idea how bad the damage would be, but for the moment he had more important things to worry about. A hand pressed into the watery film of the wooden boards, the warrior jumped back up, with a dexterity far beyond a man his size. Then, before anyone could act, he ran back over to the hostage taker. He would free the brave boy who had saved his life, and repay the debt he owed.

Halfway there, his body was upright enough to assess the situation, and what he saw was a tragedy. The traitorous sailor was kneeling over Rallo's body, blood all over his hands, while the bloody saber slid across the planks in his front. At his feet lay Rallo, still wide-eyed, still looking scared, but the life had gone and left him. With shivering hands, the sailor pressed against the hole in the the cabin boy's throat, a futile attempt to hold in the soul which had already left.

Atau slowed down as he closed in, until he reached the deadly weapon which had caused this misery. With a loud tonk, the bucket dropped to the ground. In its stead, the warrior reached for the weapon designed for killing.

Much better. This will do nicely.

Alerted by the sounds right besides him, the frazzled sailor looked up at last. His tear stained eyes burned themselves into Atau's brain.

“I... I didn't want that. I just... you shoulda just dropped the damn bucket.” In the end, the man was a wimp. Accident or not, he had provoked the catastrophe, and so he had to accept the consequences of his actions. Rather than answer the babbling buffoon, Atau just swung the saber. This time, he didn't need all those hits as he had with the bucket. This one was a much better weapon, and for the second time today it tasted blood.

Even before the body had dropped to the floor, the warrior turned back to the three remaining sailors, the last traitors on the forecastle. By now, the front half of Atau's body had been colored red, while his back was still pristine, only wet from the spraying waves around them.

The true sign of a warrior, he thought as he walked over to his last prey with slow, deliberate steps.

“Hey, wait, we give up!” Toldo shouted. However, there was no reaction. By now, they were too far gone. If they ever wanted to end, revolutions needed a clean conclusion; and Atau was willing to oblige. Across the ship, the mutiny still raged. The traitors risked all of their lives, as they killed the men he had learned to call friends over the passing months. To him, these so-called foes were nothing. No training, no experience, no cultivation. He could mow them down like grass. It was exactly what he would do, cut down the weeds, down to the last.