The Curator
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Chapter 13
🕑 Added 2025-07-14 13:50:24 +0000 UTCThat question struck deeper than any blade. It seemed not everyone had forgotten me and judging by the hatred flickering in their eyes, the old tales had held more truth than I cared to admit. Of course, who else could it be? I had long earned the title of bane among their kind.
Not that I hadn't given them fair chances. I had offered them peace — even the possibility of joining my empire or at the very least to stop hunting and devouring innocent fishermen. But they had broken their word, as they always did. And so I hunted them.
It wasn’t hunger that drove them to hunt humans. Fishmen had the ocean’s bounty at their feet, but they craved the taste of man, savored the thrill of the chase. For them, it was sport — and for me, it became one as well. A hunt for a hunt. Though, unlike them, we didn't feast on them. We weren’t barbarians, after all.
“You dare to speak that monster’s name before our queens?” the towering fishman roared, his voice shaking with fury, his limbs quivering as rage overtook him.
I tilted my head slightly, adopting the kind of calm that only made enemies angrier. “Come now, it was a fun time. Your ancestors could have spared themselves and their kin a great deal of misery — all they had to do was stop hunting humans. But they didn’t, so I didn’t.”
My voice was light, almost casual, as if I were reminiscing about an old drinking partner, not a war waged across generations. There was no mercy in me for these creatures, only a flicker of amusement at the thought of toying with them a little before I tore them apart.
“You are brave, human,” one of the fishwomen purred, a cold smile coiling along her lips. “But you are not Tiberius. You will pay dearly for daring to invoke that name.”
I watched as the aether around her began to distort, the energy rippling the air like heatwaves on desert sand. She stepped forward, each footfall an unspoken threat. But before she could complete the motion, a fishman came crashing across the deck — tumbling from right to left, cursing and spinning like a broken barrel.
Her gaze snapped to the flailing figure vanishing rapidly over the railing. Right. That was the first fishman I had launched earlier. Judging by the magical residue still swirling around him, he’d be flying for quite a while.
The fishmen on deck followed the airborne spectacle, heads turning back and forth between me and the shrinking speck in the distance. Their expressions were an entertaining mixture of confusion, fear, and disbelief.
“Come now, don’t look so surprised,” I said, stretching my arms out wide with a bright smile. “I’m back — and it’s going to be great. But if you leave now, I promise I won’t hunt down and kill every single one of you.”
Truthfully, I still had plenty of hatred to spare for their kind, but I had other priorities. A cauldron simmering below deck, for one. Besides, if apex predators from the deep were on their way, they’d do the work for me.
Almost as if summoned by thought, another fishman’s body slammed into the planks before the two queens, erupting in a grotesque explosion of flesh and shattered bone.
“Ah... completely forgot about that one,” I muttered, rubbing the back of my neck. I turned back to the wide-eyed crowd. “New offer: leave now, and no more of you die — at least not by my hand.”
The deck was silent, the air heavy with confusion and growing unease. Some of the fishmen stood frozen, their blank stares making it hard to tell if they were paralyzed by fear, or simply calculating their odds. The two queens’ eyes drifted from the crimson splatter painting the boards, back to me, then to the horizon where the first fishman had vanished — and finally back to me. Their faces contorted with raw hatred.
“I will avenge the ancestors for what you have done!” one of them screeched, her voice shrill enough to cut through steel. She raised her staff, and the aether around us vibrated with terrifying intensity.
An instant later, a bolt of searing lightning tore through the air, crackling straight toward me. I couldn’t dodge — not without risking the ship’s hull, and the lives below deck. Only then did I notice the small detail atop her staff: a human child’s skull, its jaw locked in a silent scream, staring straight at me.
The sight darkened my thoughts like a storm cloud blotting out the sun. Killing children. That was a crime that demanded a very specific kind of penalty.
With a flick of my wrist, a barrier shimmered into existence before me, catching the bolt just in time. The raw force of the spell still rocked the entire ship, the wood groaning under the strain of the explosion.
I’d never been one for torture. Even in war, it was rarely necessary. But for these two? For them, I could make an exception. As the grin returned to my lips, one simple question crossed my mind: did we have a third cauldron big enough for them?
First the work, then the fun. That was the rule.
Before the fishmen could react, I vanished — reappearing right in front of the first queen. My boot came crashing down onto her webbed foot with enough force to crush the bones beneath, while my hand snatched her staff clean from her grasp. Up close, the craftsmanship of the weapon was undeniable — forged by hands far more skilled and powerful than hers.
I spun and, without pause, hurled the staff like a javelin. The spear-like weapon pierced clean through a fishman’s chest and carried him off the deck, the force so immense it hurled both staff and corpse into the sea.
The second queen fared no better. I reached for the few green strands of her damp, seaweed-like hair, gripped tight, and yanked. Hard. Her body was lifted clean off the deck, sent sprawling backward in a violent arc. A sickening tear echoed across the planks as I looked down at the bloody clump of hair, scalp and all, still clutched in my hand.
“Ah... dammit,” the first queen hissed, hopping on one foot, both hands wrapped protectively around the crushed one. I casually swung the handful of hair and skin, backhanding her across the face and sending her sprawling onto the blood-slicked boards.
A heartbeat later, the second queen’s brain caught up to the pain, and her scream shattered the momentary silence. Her fingers frantically clawed at the ragged patch on her scalp, as if trying to convince herself the hair might still be there.
“AAHHHHH!”
The scream tore through the air, sharp and high-pitched, ringing in my ears like music. It had been a while since I'd heard something quite so satisfying. I let the sound linger in the air a moment longer, then casually summoned a small flame in my palm, burning away the strands of green hair still clinging to my blood-slicked hand.
Some locks still dangled grotesquely from the other queen’s cheek, and judging by the disgust twisting her face, a few strands had found their way into her mouth — she was spitting them out between gasps, retching with every flick of her tongue.
The remaining fishmen warriors stood frozen, keeping their distance, watching the scene unfold with wide, unblinking eyes. Their shock was almost palpable. I couldn’t blame them — watching the supposed “unbeatable” leaders get manhandled like misbehaving children did terrible things to morale. Their faith had cracked, and I could practically hear it splintering.
I clapped my hands together, letting the last of the burned hair drift away like ash. “Well, since none of you have attacked me yet, I’ll consider that a sign of wisdom. So, here’s a rare offer: one chance to turn tail and flee. I don’t usually hand out second chances, so consider this a limited-time gift.”
I grinned, tilting my head slightly. “But do me a favor — don’t go around telling your families I’ve gone soft. I’ve got a reputation, you see. Among fishmen especially, I’d rather not have it questioned.”
They didn’t seem to share my sense of humor.
A moment later, the whole pack surged toward me, roaring some guttural war cry I couldn’t quite decipher. Their voices all mashed together, like the barks of an angry seal colony.
But this time, there were no helpless humans to protect. No need to hold back. I could finally focus on style.
The first one lunged — bone spikes protruding from his back, glistening with venom. I planted a boot squarely into his chest, sending him flying backward. His spiked body met his comrade behind him, impaling the poor fool clean through. The satisfying, wet crunch told me enough about how that ended.
I danced between the others, careful to avoid any fire spells. The last thing I wanted was to damage the ship. But even restraint felt too slow. My mind clicked to a better solution.
Why not protect the deck, rather than hold back?
I ducked beneath a clawed swipe, my palm brushing the worn wooden planks. In an instant, a thin sheet of ice rippled outward from where I touched — four centimeters thick, perfectly smooth, and absolutely treacherous.
Most of the fishmen were already mid-charge, and as their feet met the ice, only one or two managed to plant a stable step. The rest skidded, arms flailing wildly, before collapsing in a chaotic heap of scales and curses.
One unfortunate brute skidded to a halt right in front of me, his wide, glassy eyes pleading for mercy. I answered with my boot, stamping down onto his skull. His head caved in with a sickening pop, his green-grey brain matter smearing across the ice like crushed fruit.
The others scrambled to free themselves, hacking at the frozen deck or trying to pull their feet free. I simply waved a hand, the ice mending itself and spreading even farther across the ship.
More shadows loomed over the railings as fresh fishmen leapt aboard from the waves, eager to join the slaughter. One landed close, cocky grin on his face.
“Jo guys, what’s taking you so lo—whoa, whoa, WHOA!”
His sentence ended in a yelp as his webbed feet betrayed him. He slid helplessly across the deck, crashing into the railing with such force that he flipped right over it, landing moments later on the still-frozen sea beside the ship with a dull, wet thud.
Their struggles were turning into entertainment. I couldn’t resist turning this into a game.
A thought crossed my mind: what I wouldn’t give for a good old wooden plank. Nothing said ‘classic’ like the walk of shame across a slick beam — but this wasn’t my ship to dismantle. Then I remembered: I had handed the sailors a hammer earlier.
One blink later, I appeared inside the dim cabin where the two sailors were still cowering, clutching tools like children holding stuffed toys during a storm. Without a word, I plucked the hammer straight from one man’s hands. His mouth hung open, his eyes following the blood-splattered weapon.
“Relax,” I said with a wink. “I’ll give it back when I’m done.”
Just as I turned to vanish, Rafael, voice trembling, managed to ask: “Hey — how’s it going up there? Is... is everything alright?”
I couldn’t help but chuckle. “Oh, I’m doing fine. Quite the crowd up there, so it might take a while.”
With that, I blinked back onto the deck, hammer in hand and mischief in mind.
The weight of the thing felt perfect — solid, heavy, hungry for bone. I waded back into the chaos, swinging low. Legs, fingers, toes — prime targets. I still held back enough strength to avoid punching through the deck, but not enough to spare the fishmen their agony.
The real fun began when they started hopping on one foot, clutching broken toes with both hands, only to slip on the ice and crash hard onto their backs or faces. Their feet, soft and nerve-laden, were particularly vulnerable — one strike was usually enough to send them squealing.
I glided over the deck like an ice dancer, hammer arcing through the air, painting the ship with streaks of fishblood. Bones snapped and shattered wherever I passed.
Sometimes, the moment was almost too perfect: a fishman would lock eyes with me, panic setting in as I slid toward him, his limbs flailing helplessly for balance. Again and again, they’d slip, fall, scramble back to their feet — only to fall once more. Until finally, I arrived.
One last swing. The hammer came down with that delicious cracking sound, always followed by a sharp, high-pitched “Ahhhhh!”
I couldn’t help but smile.
All in all, I really did love my job.
And judging by the deep vibrations rolling through the waves, the real monsters had finally arrived.
