Chapter 16: The Hunter’s Mark

The Storm Reaper's engines hummed with a steady rhythm as Lucien stared out into the endless expanse of clouds. The air felt different now—heavier, charged with anticipation. His grip on the artifact was instinctual, as if it had become an extension of himself. Despite his earlier resolve to face whatever it revealed together with his crew, something inside him gnawed at him. The calm before the storm never lasted long, and he knew that soon, their moment of peace would end.

"Everything okay, captain?" Rosie's voice sliced through the tense silence, her boots clicking lightly on the floor as she approached. She leaned against the doorframe, studying him.

Lucien didn't turn to face her immediately, keeping his eyes locked on the sky. "Just... thinking," he muttered.

"You don't think," she teased, walking over to stand next to him. "You improvise, throw yourself into chaos and hope it works out."

He chuckled, though the sound was hollow. "Something like that."

Before she could reply, the air shifted, a low, ominous sound that didn't belong. A whistling, like wind cutting through the air at an unnatural speed, followed by a screeching metallic groan that echoed from above. Lucien's heart skipped a beat, and he spun around just as the warning klaxon blared throughout the ship.

"Enemy ship approaching at high speed, captain!"

"Damn it," Lucien muttered under his breath. He was already halfway to the controls. "Everyone, brace for impact!"

The crew rushed into position, their movements practiced and swift. It was too late to outrun the threat. The sharp cry of steam engines and the thunderous rush of air signaled the arrival of their pursuer.

A sleek, black airship appeared on the horizon—an elegant but deadly silhouette cutting through the clouds like a predator hunting its prey. Its hull was smooth, polished, almost serpentine in design, with jagged edges that suggested a ship meant for war, not just travel. At the helm of the ship, a figure stood tall, clad in a long, dark coat and a wide-brimmed hat that obscured most of their face. The figure's presence was like a shadow falling over them, filling the air with an eerie stillness.

"Looks like we've got company," Rosie muttered, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the enemy ship's approach. "And I don't think they're here for a friendly chat."

"Get ready for a fight," Lucien growled, his mind racing. The artifact... they couldn't let anyone take it. Not now. Not after everything they had been through.

Suddenly, a sharp, mechanical voice echoed through the ship's comms system, distorted but unmistakable.

"Lucien Drake."

The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. He knew that voice—cold, clinical, and precise. It sent a chill down his spine. This wasn't just any enemy; this was someone who knew exactly what they were after.

"I am Arin Duvall," the voice continued, as the figure on the ship above them slowly revealed themselves, stepping into view. The long coat billowed behind them, and their face remained concealed by the shadow of the hat. "I'm here for what belongs to me."

Lucien's heart sank. He had heard rumors of Arin Duvall, a former high-ranking officer in the Empire's secretive and ruthless Intelligence Bureau, now turned mercenary. Cold, calculating, and deadly, Duvall was known for hunting down valuable targets with relentless precision. But there was something more. Something far more dangerous.

And now, that something was aimed directly at him.

"That artifact does not belong to you," Lucien said, his voice steady, though he could feel the adrenaline pumping through his veins. He motioned to his crew. "All hands, ready yourselves!"

"It will be mine," Duvall's voice came through again, this time with an edge of finality. "You cannot hide from me, Lucien. I have been tracking you for weeks. And now, your ship will be my prize."

With a snap of his fingers, the enemy ship's cannons fired, sending bolts of searing blue energy toward the Storm Reaper. The ship lurched violently as the first wave of blasts struck the hull, sending sparks and steam into the air. The crew scrambled, but Lucien knew the storm had only just begun.

"Incoming!" Rosie shouted, drawing her pistols as she took up position near the gunnery controls. "Let's make sure Duvall knows why you don't mess with us."

"I'll handle the engines," Evelyn said quickly, darting toward the lower deck. "We can't afford to let them disable us!"

Victoria and Marion moved to secure the ship's defenses, their eyes focused and their movements synchronized as they prepared for the worst. Valeria was already at the workbench, scrambling to reroute energy and enhance the ship's shields.

Lucien grabbed the artifact, holding it close as the ship trembled with each blast. He couldn't let Duvall get his hands on it. Not now. Not ever.

But as Duvall's ship loomed closer, Lucien realized something—this wasn't just a mercenary looking for a payday. This was personal. Duvall knew too much, and the way they spoke... Lucien could almost feel the unseen strings being pulled in a far greater game.

"I don't need to kill you, Lucien," Duvall's voice echoed again. "But you will surrender the artifact... or your crew will die in the process."

A cold fury burned in Lucien's chest as he turned to his crew, his gaze flickering over them. The stakes had never been higher. And the weight of the artifact now felt like a ticking time bomb in his hands.

"Rosie," Lucien said, his voice low, but sharp, "take the wheel. Everyone else, get to your stations. We're not letting Duvall walk away with what's ours."

He knew they were running out of time, but Lucien would not—could not—let the enemy take the artifact. This was his fight now, and whatever it cost, he'd make sure Duvall paid.

The Storm Reaper, wounded but not broken, veered toward the oncoming enemy ship as Lucien took a deep breath and prepared himself for the chaos ahead.