General Rondlf was pulled into the sea.
The cold water engulfed him, pressing against his body, forcing its way into his lungs. He thrashed, his arms flailing, his legs kicking, his mind screaming. The pressure was immense, the darkness absolute. He could not see. Could not breathe. Could not fight.
He saw the person who pulled him in.
It was Gareth.
Gareth sat on the beast the creature he had named Dameon, its body massive, its scales gleaming, its presence terrifying. He held Rondlf's leg with one hand, pulling him deeper into the depths, his face calm, his eyes cold, his will absolute.
Rondlf could not fight against Gareth.
The amount of water that entered his lungs was too much. The pressure pushed him down, crushing his chest, blurring his vision, stealing his consciousness. He saw Gareth a shadow in the darkness, a monster in the depths and felt something he had not felt in a long time.
Fear.
But then Gareth let him go.
Rondlf was surprised. His eyes widened. His mind raced. He did not understand could not understand why the demon would release him.
Gareth pulled him up to the surface.
They rose through the water past the darkness, past the pressure, past the certainty of death and emerged into the storm-dark air. Gareth pulled Rondlf inside a destroyed vessel, its underbelly exposed to the sea, its deck broken and bloodied.
He threw Rondlf on the deck.
The general's body crashed against the wood his lungs heaving, his vision spinning, his mind scrambling. He gasped for air, choking on the water that still filled his lungs, coughing up the darkness that had almost claimed him.
Gareth threw his spear.
The blade stabbed into Rondlf's right leg piercing flesh, grinding against bone, pinning him to the deck. He screamed a raw, primal, agonized sound.
Gareth smiled.
"Now," he said, his voice calm, almost conversational. "I shall perform the ultimate act of recreation."
He rushed at Rondlf and placed his hand on his face.
His palm pressed against the general's forehead, his fingers spread across his skin, his intent flowing into his mind.
"Truly," Gareth said, his voice soft, almost reverent. "The mind of man is primitive."
He paused.
"All emotions concentrate at a single point." His voice hardened. "And to define things by a single ideal."
He released pure intent targeted directly at Rondlf.
The intent surged into his mind, flooding his thoughts, overwhelming his consciousness. Rondlf bled from his eyes and his ears dark, thick, uncontrollable streams that poured down his cheeks, his neck, his chest. His vision became heavy, blurry, wrong.
Gareth spoke.
"I shall use the purest of intent to destroy your mind." His voice was calm, clinical, absolute. "And from the ashes of that..."
He paused.
"...I shall create a new mind."
He smiled.
"Greater than it was before." His voice dropped. "A tool to only be used."
Darlington smiled.
"So," he said, his voice echoing in Gareth's mind. "You finally listened to me, didn't you?"
Gareth responded, his voice calm, sincere, devoted.
"Yes."
He paused.
"I have to admit..." His voice dropped. "...without you, my tale would have ended within the cold sea."
He looked at the man beneath his hand.
"But you saved me." His voice was warm, almost affectionate. "I truly acknowledge you as a god."
He paused.
"And now we shall work together to conquer the Infinite Sea."
He looked at the navy fleet that surrounded them the ships as large as mountains, the men as numerous as the waves, the enemy that stretched to every horizon.
"Slowly." His voice dropped. "I'm ashamed of myself."
He looked at his hands at the darkness that still clung to them, the malice that still flowed through them.
"Malice had brought pride in my heart." He shook his head. "Only a winner should have the emotion of pride."
He looked at Rondlf at the man he was remaking, the tool he was crafting, the weapon he was forging.
"I am a survivor." His voice hardened. "A man who will climb hell."
He paused.
"I have no throne." He smiled. "Only despair."
Gareth's intent grew.
It manifested physically a dark wave that poured from his body, flowed into his target, filled Rondlf's mind with new thoughts, new beliefs, new loyalties. The general's body convulsed. His eyes rolled back. His consciousness shattered and reformed.
Gareth let go of him.
He stood up, looking at the man he had remade. Then he spoke to Darlington.
"This should be enough, right?" He paused. "To plant a false reality into his mind?"
He looked at Rondlf at the general who was beginning to stir, to wake, to become something new.
"Since he is someone that has a high rank..." He smiled. "...I will use him to manipulate everything and everyone."
He paused.
"I should have done this in the first place." His voice hardened. "There are many ways to kill a man."
Gareth removed his clothes.
He pulled off the torn, bloodstained garments that had carried him through battle after battle, and put on the clothes of a navy officer. The fabric was crisp, clean, unmarked a uniform that had never seen combat, a disguise that would let him walk among his enemies.
He wore a black mask smooth, featureless, absolute that covered his face completely.
He looked at Rondlf.
"From this moment," he said, his voice calm, absolute, certain. "I am the Black Knight of the Sea."
He paused.
"A man chosen by the general to defend the navy."
Rondlf woke up.
His eyes opened. His body rose. His mind was clear sharper than it had ever been, clearer than it had ever been, more focused than it had ever been.
He stood and shouted at Gareth it was like he was a new person.
"Why are you here?!" His voice was sharp, urgent, commanded. "An enemy is attacking us!"
He looked around, his eyes scanning the wreckage, the bodies, the chaos.
"We need to defeat the enemy!" He touched his leg the wound that should have crippled him, the pain that should have overwhelmed him. "I'm already so injured already!"
Gareth, as his new identity, knelt down.
He bowed his head.
"Yes, my lord." His voice was warm, respectful, devoted. "I, the Black Knight, am forever loyal to the sun."
Rondlf stood.
Gareth knelt.
And the sea roared.