Only now did he dismiss the possibility of an empty-fort ruse.
That night at Torturer's Deep, Crab Claw had already seen through Lo Quen's plan, yet still let him and his men enter before launching an ambush.
First, Crab Claw was confident the ambush would be enough to kill Lo Quen and his followers.
Second, Lo Quen had brought only five ships into Torturer's Deep, giving him no advantage in numbers.
But the most critical point was that Crab Claw had no idea Lo Quen possessed a Dragonbone bow capable of loosing flaming arrows.
Unlike Crab Claw, Caggo had already tasted the bow's fury. He knew all too well what awaited anyone caught in Lo Quen's sights in open ground.
With command of the main harbor fleet and the fortress's strong defenses, there was no chance he would abandon such advantages by throwing open the gates.
The only explanation was that something had erupted within the fortress—something far beyond his control.
Lo Quen judged the situation instantly:
"Caggo is either dead or has lost control. This is a gift from the gods—we must not waste it. Assault the fortress at once."
Speed was everything. He had to strike while Jawbreak Island was still in chaos, crushing Caggo's last foundation of power with overwhelming force, leaving no chance to regroup.
At Lo Quen's command, the oars bit into the water as the fleet surged toward the main harbor docks at full speed.
The pirate infantry, well-drilled, quickly formed ranks under their officers' shouts. Siege rams were unloaded from the transports. Crude but serviceable scaling ladders were shouldered by the pirates.
The Dragon Soul Guards once again led the charge. Silent and relentless, they stormed up the steep slope below the fortress, their massive bodies pounding through gravel and soil with the steady rhythm of machines.
Several ladders were thrust into place against the lower, more level stretches of wall.
"Climb!"
At their officer's bellow, the pirates of Torturer's Deep roared wildly. Daggers clenched in their teeth, they began to scramble upward.
When Lo Quen's forces smashed through the crumbling gates, the Dragon Soul Guards and Torturer's Deep pirates poured in like a flood, sweeping into Crackjaw Fortress, now shrouded in smoke and fire. The scene inside was hell itself.
Narrow alleys and the so-called "square" were strewn with corpses in common pirate garb. Blood ran together with mud, and the smoke-filled air was choked with the reek of iron and gore.
Some scattered pockets still fought on, but most either cowered like frightened quail in corners, trembling, or wandered in shock with vacant eyes.
The battle's heart was at the fortress's summit—outside Caggo's tower.
The closer they drew, the louder the clash of steel and the more savage the carnage. The ground before the tower was heaped with bodies, the blood covering the stones like a crimson carpet.
Two pirate bands were locked in a desperate struggle.
One group, smaller in number—barely twenty men—had formed a semicircle with their backs against the burning tower's base. Every one of them was drenched in blood, battered with wounds, yet their eyes blazed with the madness of cornered beasts.
At their center stood "Shipbreaker" Caggo.
His condition was pitiful. His bare chest was caked with blood and soot. The filthy bandages over his shoulder stump were soaked through with blood and pus, reeking of rot.
His face was ashen, his eyes sunken, flickering with a mixture of terror and rage.
In his right hand he gripped his signature heavy double-bladed axe, but his swings trembled with exhaustion and the agonizing drag of his severed arm.
He roared like a beast, driving on his last diehards.
"Hold! Kill that traitor Hal, and I'll grant him an island!"
Their attackers numbered a little more, about thirty men, and struck with brutal ferocity.
At their head was a lean, hard-eyed middle-aged pirate. His right hand was gone, replaced with a gleaming iron hook that dripped blood. In his left hand he wielded a curved scimitar. His body bore many wounds, but his spirit blazed unbroken.
This was the traitor Caggo had named—Hal the Iron Hook.
"Caggo, your doom is upon you. For our fallen brothers—kill!"
Hal's voice was hoarse, laced with searing hatred and the desperation of a final stand.
He swung his iron hook to knock aside a slashing blade, then drove his scimitar deftly into the ribs of one of Caggo's guards—a strike as ruthless as it was efficient.
The men beside him unleashed the last of their strength, hurling themselves against Caggo's faltering line.
The battle had reached its breaking point. Hal's side pressed the advantage, but Caggo and his remaining diehards fought back with the savagery of the doomed.
Lo Quen's arrival was like ice water poured into a boiling cauldron.
The heavy tread of the Dragon Soul Guards and the cries of the Torturer's Deep pirates drew every eye on the battlefield.
For a heartbeat, the ferocious clash froze.
Caggo's lone right eye snapped toward the entrance. The instant he recognized that familiar figure, his pupil shrank to a pinprick.
Terror consumed him utterly.
"It's that Eastern brat from Torturer's Deep!"
Caggo let out a shrill, despairing scream. Forgetting even Hal before him, he instinctively turned to flee into the burning tower.
But in that fatal instant, as his mind faltered and his movements lagged, Hal's gaze flared with a predator's light.
This was the moment he had been waiting for.
Hal hurled his scimitar straight at Caggo's face, forcing him to flail awkwardly with his axe to deflect it.
In the same instant, as Caggo's balance wavered, Hal struck. His iron hook, coiled and ready, shot forward like a viper from its lair. With the fury of vengeance and the resolve of one ready to die, he drove it into the side of Caggo's neck.
"Gahhh!"
Caggo's scream broke into ragged gasps, his lone eye bulging with pain and suffocation.
The hook sank deep between neckbone and windpipe. Blood, scalding hot, burst from the wound in a torrent, gushing from his mouth and nose.
Caggo's dying strength hurled Hal forward, but Hal only grinned in savage triumph. Planting all his weight behind the iron hook, he wrenched it back with brutal force.
"Snap—splat!" The sickening crack of bone and tear of flesh rang out.
Caggo's massive head tore free, ripped from his neck by the iron hook. Blood sprayed down like rain, drenching Hal's face in crimson.
The headless body swayed stiffly, blood spurting from the stump in a fountain, before toppling with a heavy splash into the spreading pool. After a few spasms, it lay still.
The severed head dangled from the hook, eyes bulging, mouth frozen half-open in a soundless scream of terror and rage.
Before the tower, silence fell.
Both Hal's men and Caggo's last loyalists stood stunned, paralyzed by the sheer brutality of what they had witnessed. Even the roar of the flames seemed to fade.
Hal sucked in ragged breaths, each one thick with the stench of blood.
Struggling upright with his left hand, he kept his right arm raised high, the hook still clutching Caggo's dripping head.
Ignoring the corpse at his feet, his bloodshot eyes burned with grim resolve as they locked on Lo Quen through the haze of smoke and firelight.
Hal's voice cracked as he shouted, "Caggo butchered our brothers on this island, feeding some to the sharks. Under his rule, Jawbreak Island was doomed. I, 'Iron Hook' Hal, ended his reign with my own hands. His head is yours, Lord."
He thrust the hooked head forward. In the firelight, the grotesque trophy swung, blood still dripping from the ragged stump of its neck.
Hal dropped heavily to one knee in the clotted blood, bowing his head low. With both arms extended, he presented the severed head in a posture of submission.
"I swear allegiance to you and offer the remnants of Jawbreak Island. This head is proof of my loyalty. I beg your mercy, Lord—grant us the chance to prove our worth under your command."
At his words, his surviving men snapped from their shock. Weapons clattered to the ground as they dropped to their knees one by one, foreheads pressed to the blood-soaked earth.
"We surrender!"
"Forgive us, Lord!"
"We pledge our service!"
Caggo's last few followers stared at their leader's severed head, then at the encircling Dragon Soul Guards and Torturer's Deep pirates closing in with silent menace. Whatever fight remained in them crumbled away.
Exchanging weary glances, they let their weapons fall and knelt in defeat.