The Invictus groaned, a sound like a dying god as the pirates swarmed its decks. Captain Iron Hand, clutching his blood-soaked chest where Xuan Ni had wounded him, watched as his men tore into the ship's secret compartments.
"Trophies! Bring me the high-grade stones! Bring me the Sect relics!" he barked, his voice rasping.
But the reports coming back were a chorus of disappointment.
"Captain, the vault is empty!"
"The secondary engine room is stripped—they burned the runic fuel!"
"Nothing but ash in the treasury, sir. They used everything to keep the shields up!"
Iron Hand's face contorted with fury. He had lost half his fleet and nearly his life for a hollow shell. He kicked a pile of smoldering debris, his metallic hand sparking. "Thousands of years of Crimson Sect accumulation... and they burned it all just to stay afloat? I'll pull the gold from their teeth if I have to!"
