Helming the rudder, Titus watched the stormy sea beyond the prow. Waves taller than his own sailboat surged toward him. Flexing his Concept, the Rehm parted each crashing wave, making way for his passage. What required no effort for him was arduous for others; one of the reasons he had entrusted his tribe to another leader. So daring young tribespeople had wanted to accompany him, but he refused. The epicenter of the cataclysm lay at the lair of the seventh Terror, and Titus didn't believe in coincidences.
As the chief, it was his duty to investigate the origin of the calamity that had shaken the ocean an hour earlier. Gladius had offered to accompany him, but Titus declined; soone needed to protect their tribes in case it was a trap. The Rehms were a dwindling people, and every individual was precious.
So, here stood the old warrior, defying the wrath of the ocean at the helm of his catamaran. Ahead, two waves moving in different directions collided to form a hill of water.
Titus’ soul called upon his Concept, and a supernatural wind filled his sails, magically accelerating his boat. A mont later, the vessel climbed the water wall before taking off into the air.
The sailboat flew almost three hundred ters before landing on the crest of a wave. Titus laughed as the foam from the landing splashed him.
It had been a decade since he had sailed the seas alone, and he had forgotten the pleasure of navigating solo.
Suddenly, an ash cloud appeared on the horizon, and the old sea dog squinted. The seismic activity of their world fragnt was too weak to cause an eruption.
Soone or sothing had forced nature's hand.
“To ruin the status quo? Who would be stupid enough for that…”
Heart tight with worry, Titus accelerated again.
600 / 6 attributes > 900 / 1 attribute > 1 200
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