The sea ahead boiled.
Not in the poetic sense, not the gentle roil of wind over current — this was real, raw heat ripping through the water. Vast, churning clouds of bubbles rose from the depths, distorting the sunlight into rippling spears. The air stank of sulfur, heavy and choking, and every wave carried a hiss, as if the ocean itself were being seared alive.
The Abyssbreaker cut toward it without pause.
Poseidon stood at the bow, hair wild in the wind, eyes locked on the ironclad wall that guarded the volcanic vents. There were nine of them, each one a floating fortress plated in black steel, their massive guns swiveling to track his approach. Between them sward lighter escorts — cutters, frigates, ships rigged with fla throwers that hissed in anticipation.
And beneath that wall, he felt the truth of the Council’s plan.
They had anchored machines to the vents themselves. Chains of black tal linked to heavy gearworks, forcing the volcanic mouths wider, stirring the earth’s fire like a cook stirring a pot. If they released them at the right mont, the vents would erupt violently enough to scald leagues of sea, stripping him of his power and killing every creature that followed.
The trap was perfect.
Almost.
---
"Positions!" Kaelen’s shout carried over the deck. Mortal crew scrambled to their stations, loosing lines, manning ballistae, checking the ropes on the great spear launchers mounted at midship.
Theron, the Sharklord, stood grinning at the starboard rail, his hands flexing as though itching for the taste of blood. Naia knelt at the stern, hands spread over the water, whispering to the reluctant currents. Brine, the crab-giant, moved slow and deliberate, planting himself by the main mast — an unshakable wall of shell and claw.
Poseidon didn’t move.
The ironclads ahead were already turning, forming a crescent around the vents. Gun ports yawned wide. The first flash of cannonfire split the dimming sky.
---
"Down!" Kaelen roared.
The Abyssbreaker tilted sharply as Naia sent a surge of water against its flank, pushing it sideways just as the first volley slamd into the waves where it had been. The ocean erupted in plus of steam and spray, the shockwave rattling the deck.
Poseidon didn’t flinch. He stepped to the very edge of the prow and raised one hand.
The sea here was sluggish, heavy with heat — but it was still his.
The wave he called was not the towering kind that swallows ships whole. It was low, sleek, and fast — a predator’s lunge. It smashed into the nearest cutter before the crew could brace, flipping it sideways and spilling n screaming into the boiling sea.
---
"Drive through!" Poseidon commanded.
The Abyssbreaker surged forward, sails snapping as the wind, too, bent to his will. They cut straight toward the heart of the crescent. The ironclads fired again, their shells streaking overhead or crashing into the water with bone-shaking force.
Theron leapt from the rail, vanishing beneath the surface with a predator’s grace. A mont later, an escort ship lurched violently as sothing tore through its keel from below.
Naia’s voice rose, urgent and sharp. She sent spirals of colder current threading through the boiling water, carving narrow lanes where the Abyssbreaker could run without cooking its hull.
But the vents were waking.
---
The sea beneath them shuddered — a deep, resonant boom that vibrated through bone and steel alike. A pillar of steam shot skyward off their port bow, scattering the nearest frigate’s crew in a panic. The Council’s chains clanked and groaned, forcing the vents wider, the water hotter.
Poseidon’s eyes narrowed.
Enough of this.
---
He slamd the butt of his trident against the deck. The sound rang like struck bronze, echoing not through air, but through the water itself. The ocean answered — sluggishly, unwilling — but it answered.
The shadows that had followed them to the edge of the boiling zone surged forward. Massive shapes lood beneath the surface: the sinuous coil of a serpent long as a galleon, the vast shadow of a manta with wings broader than three ships, a swarm of sharks with eyes like cold silver.
They could not follow him into the very heart of the vents, but they could rip the edges of the crescent apart.
---
The serpent breached first, smashing through the hull of an ironclad with a single strike of its armored head. The steel groaned, twisted — and then the ship folded inward as water rushed in, dragging it under.
The manta swept low, flipping a frigate onto its side with the force of its passing.
Screams filled the air, mingled with the roar of cannons and the hiss of vent steam.
---
The Abyssbreaker punched through the chaos, arrowing for the largest of the chained vents.
Two ironclads moved to intercept, their guns belching fire. One shell smashed into the foredeck, splintering timber and hurling two n overboard. The other hit the mast, snapping its upper half away in a shower of ropes and sailcloth.
Poseidon didn’t even glance back.
"Brine!" he barked.
The crab-giant lumbered forward, claws raised. He caught the next incoming shell between them, the impact shattering its casing into harmless shards. With a grunt, he hurled the pieces back at the ironclad, shattering its forward gunport.
---
They reached the vent.
Here, the water seethed like a cauldron. The heat hit like a wall, prickling skin and burning lungs with every breath of steam. The chain that held the vent open was thicker than a man’s torso, its links glowing faintly with heat from the deep.
Poseidon leapt from the bow straight into the boiling sea.
The heat clawed at him instantly, but he forced the water to part, swirling around him in cooler eddies. His trident struck the chain once, twice — each blow sending a dull shudder through the seabed. On the third strike, the link shattered, and the chain sank into the abyss.
The vent roared in response, spewing steam and ash in an uncontrolled burst. The Council’s careful control was gone.
---
Above, the ironclads scrambled to adjust. The crescent formation fractured as so ships turned toward him, others away from the chaos of the freed vent.
Theron broke the surface near the Abyssbreaker, hauling himself aboard with a grin full of blood. "Two escorts down!" he shouted.
"Make it five," Poseidon replied coldly.
---
He vaulted back onto the deck as Naia sent another cold surge around the ship, protecting the hull from the worst of the heat.
The crew roared as the Abyssbreaker swung toward the next vent.
The Council had thought the vents would cage him. Instead, he would tear them open one by one, turning the boiling sea into a weapon they could not control.
---
Far to the south, a massive plu erupted — a vent overpressured by the broken chain. The wave that followed surged outward, smashing into the nearest ironclad with a force that sent it rolling onto its side.
Poseidon’s eyes glead in the steam-filled dusk.
"Let them choke on their own fire."
And the storm began in earnest.
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