Chapter 62

The deck vanished beneath their feet leaving them no time to brace. 

My thousand-pound frame crashed into the center of the longship, instantly buckling the heavy wooden planks. Oars snapped violently out of the rowers' hands, whipping through the air. Men lost their balance, thrown heavily against the gunwales or sent tumbling over the side into the freezing waters.

The shallow-draft vessel listed violently to starboard, shipping a massive wave of seawater over the edge. In the center of the chaos, two reavers had been crushed beneath my paws, their chests caving in with a crunch.

"Hold!" the captain roared, pulling himself up by the steering oar. "Kill the beast!"

"What is dead may never die!" a fanatic roared back in answer, charging blindly through the smoke with a bearded axe raised high.

The fight was an absolute mess. The longship pitched wildly on the morning swells. As another reaver lunged to spear my flank, the wet deck tilted sharply. He lost his footing, slipping on a slick puddle of seawater and blood, his iron spearhead plunging deeply into the fanatics thigh.

I stepped inside the wounded fanatic's broken guard and swiped my massive paw. The sheer force shattered his wooden shield, snapping the arm behind it like a dry twig and sending the man crashing back into the rowers' benches.

"Drive the spears!" the captain bellowed over the roar of the fire spreading from the ruined sail. "Take its eyes!"

But the calm was already unraveling. The ruined kraken sail collapsed downward, raining burning canvas over the deck.

"Captain..." a young reaver stammered, dropping his axe and backing away in sheer terror.

"Stand!" the captain roared.

An older veteran shoved the boy aside, gripping a heavy bearded axe with both hands. He watched my claws tear through the wooden deck. "It bleeds," he grunted.

"Not enough," the boy whispered.

The veteran stepped over the burning canvas. He knew he was looking at his own death, but he was ironborn. "Come on then!" he roared, charging me head-on.

I took the blow. The axe dug into my dense shoulder muscle. I pivoted, clamping my heavy jaws over the veteran's leather-clad torso. My teeth sheared through the boiled leather and ribs with raw, physical supremacy, and with a violent jerk of my neck, I tossed him with the axe over the gunwales.

I triggered [Morning Sun] healing myself.

Seeing their best fighter swatted away like an insect and the beast recovering from all their efforts shattered whatever nerve the crew had left. Command completely broke down.

Men abandoned their oars. One terrified raider, his salt-cloak catching fire, scrambled frantically toward the port side to throw himself into the water. The bound captives were directly in his path.

"Move!" he screamed, wild with fear. He swung his short sword blindly to clear the human obstacles from his escape route, his blade slashing mere inches from the huddled mother.

He never completed the swing. I surged entirely over the rowing benches, bypassing the remaining crew, and slammed my entire weight into him. He was thrown hard against the gunwale, his spine snapping on the heavy wood before he flipped lifelessly into the sea.

The captain looked at his decimated crew, the burning mast, and the blood soaking his boots.They couldn't kill it.

"Into the sea!" the captain screamed to the survivors, unable to bear the massacre happening to his men. "Jump!"

Half obeyed, throwing themselves over the wooden gunwales into the freezing waves. But the captain didn't jump. He spat a wad of blood onto the wooden planks, gripped his battleaxe with both hands, and stared at me.

"You fucking beast," he said quietly, swinging the heavy iron in a two-handed arc aimed directly at my neck.

I ducked underneath the swinging blade, lunged forward, and clamped my jaws directly onto his head. I bit down with a thousand pounds of force. The captain's defiant stand ended in a wet, choked gurgle. I ripped my head back, discarding the broken man onto the bloody planks.

Silence fell over the ship, save for the crackling of the fire and the heavy sloshing of seawater.

I turned my massive head toward the captives.

A woman screamed, burying her face into her knees. An old fisherman squeezed his eyes shut, weeping openly as he began to frantically mutter broken prayers to the Old Gods. They weren't looking at a savior; they were looking at a mythical predator that had just torn men apart like paper. They were certain it was their turn to die.

I padded slowly toward the center of the deck. The captives shrank back, pressing themselves against each other.

I stopped in front of the bound man. He was as pale as a ghost. As I lowered my massive, bloodstained snout, he squeezed his eyes shut and turned his head, flinching hard as he braced for my jaws to rip his throat out.

I extended a single, razor-sharp claw, hooked it under the thick hemp rope binding his wrists, and gave a precise flick.

The rope snapped.

The man gasped. He fell forward, catching himself on his raw, chafed hands. He stared at his freed wrists, his entire body shaking violently. He looked at the severed rope, then at the dead captain, and finally up at my glowing amber eyes, utterly paralyzed by shock.

"Gods..." he whispered. "It's letting us live."

I stepped back. The immediate threat had fled, but the ship was sinking. The fire at the stern was spreading to the floorboards, and the violent offshore wind was pushing the heavy vessel sideways, threatening to capsize it in the deep swells.

I looked at the heavy, braided mooring line coiled near the bow. Then, stared out at the shoreline.

I clamped my jaws firmly onto the thick rope, climbed onto the splintered gunwale, and leapt.

I hit the water.

The reaction was instantaneous and agonizing. The freezing, salty ocean swallowed me up to my chest. The water violently hissed and boiled against my extreme internal body heat, creating a thick, blinding cloud of steam.

I didn't try to swim. I dug my back paws into the submerged, rocky seabed and pulled.

The longship groaned, resisting with the sheer, dead weight of its wooden hull. A heavy wave crashed against the ship's broadside, violently jerking the rope in my jaws and nearly pulling my head under the freezing surf. Above me, the burning mainmast finally gave way, crashing down onto the empty deck and sending up a shower of sparks, missing the huddled captives by mere feet.

My muscles burned, fighting the drag of the ocean. I lunged forward, wave by wave.

Finally, my heavy paws hit the wet gravel. I dug my claws into the stones and hauled it in. The wooden hull scraped violently against the rocks, sliding up onto the dry shore, completely grounded and safe from the tide.

I dropped the heavy rope from my bleeding gums, shaking the freezing seawater from my coat as a massive cloud of steam rolled off my body.

On the ship, the freed man finally snapped out of his paralysis. His hands trembling, he grabbed a discarded ironborn dagger and frantically sawed the other captives loose. They scrambled over the gunwales, dropping onto the freezing Northern gravel.

The mother collapsed to her knees on the stones. She pulled her little girl fiercely behind her, trying to shield her with her own body, even as I stepped away.

"Thank you..." she whispered into the freezing wind. Then she immediately clamped a hand over her own mouth, terrified of drawing my attention.

The older fisherman slumped against the wet gravel, trembling. "Old Gods keep us," he muttered blindly. "The gods walk."

They watched in silence as the great beast of fire simply turned away.

As I put distance between myself and the survivors, a familiar, icy chime rang in my mind. The System interface materialized in the periphery of my vision, flashing with a brilliant, victorious gold.

[Massive Experience Gained.]

[Level Up!]

[Current Level: 40]

[Threshold Reached. Deep North Survival Probability: MEDIUM]

I let out a low, rumbling exhale, the steam from my breath mixing with the cold morning air. I looked North, toward the sheer, unimaginably distant monolith of the Wall.

Soon.

I turned my back to the sea. As I began to walk away, the little girl peeked out from behind her mother's cloak.

"Mama..." she whispered.

"Don't call after it," the mother hissed instantly, pulling her back.

My ears twitched. The wind was still blowing south, carrying the scent of two more raiding parties further down the coast. I lowered my head, dug my claws into the stones, and sprinted down the shoreline to finish the hunt.

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