The collapse of the shield was the tolling of a funeral bell.
As the Invictus lay exposed, the black ships of the pirate fleet didn't hesitate. They closed the distance like starving sharks, firing boarding harpoons that bit deep into the crimson wood of the hull. Chains rattled, pulling the dark vessels flush against the titan.
"Board them! Kill the men, save the treasure!" Captain Iron Hand's voice roared over the wind.
Hundreds of pirates, hardened by a lifetime of lawless slaughter, leaped onto the deck of the Invictus. The remaining Crimson Sect disciples, exhausted and demoralized, tried to form a line, but they were cut down in a whirlwind of steel and chaotic spells.
Elder Xuan Ni stood on the elevated command deck, his breathing ragged. The internal injuries he had sustained when the lightning ancestor hurled the ship across the horizon were flared up; his meridians felt like they were filled with broken glass.
