Telluric Siegewave

"Oaths of nobility depend entirely on who's swearing them."

—Lord Liu's Proverb

"Beamon Priest! Your baseless assumptions insult me!" Xu steadied himself with scholar's poise, though his eyes betrayed flickers of panic as he reassessed this porcine enigma. The oaf's grubby exterior hid serpentine cunning that made his ancient bones ache.

"If you weren't plotting exactly that, you're dumber than kelp!" Liu clapped Xu's shoulder hard enough to bruise. "But keep one ring for your delusions of grandeur. Consider it charity."

..........

"Silence won't shield your schemes!" Liu's street-thug persona resurfaced, cracking knuckles like ship timbers. "Keep mum and I'll feed your 'dragon meat' to the crabs!"

"Done!" Xu hissed through clenched teeth. "But my condition—"

"Spit it out."

"The tortoiseshell comes with me." The scholar caressed the relic's grooves like a lover's spine. Liu hid his smirk. Still chasing those mythical pearls, old fool? Let's see who outswims whom.

"Deal!" Liu snapped before the echo faded.

"By our patron gods we swear—" Xu began ritualistically, jade rings clinking like conspirators' whispers.

"Swear away." Liu recited the pledge to Beamon's war god with tavern-brawler nonchalance. Kampas? Might as well swear by yesterday's chamber pot.

"Henceforth, you command the Penglai." Xu's smile could poison coral reefs as he surrendered the blood-jade ring.

Liu pocketed the artifact and tossed over salt-cured rabbit jerky—his "dragon meat" masterpiece. Their grins mirrored sharks circling wounded prey.

"Bend close, oaf." Xu's tremor betrayed decades of failed elixirs. "The activation chant for the golems is..."

Moments later, Liu spun the ring on his thumb, its crimson glow painting his face with infernal light. Across the deck, Xu clutched the tortoiseshell and jerky like Gollum with his precious, cackles dissolving into phlegmy coughs.

Panda warriors knelt in formation, their monochrome fur rippling like living yin-yang symbols. "Lord Li Cha!" Boomed Guð, his trident scarring the deck as he knelt. "Our blades and breath are yours!"

"Rise, brothers." Liu counted twenty mountainous silhouettes. My personal avalanche.

Xu's manic laughter crescendoed. "Immortality! The phoenix powder recipe—"

"Rot in brine!" Guð's spit sizzled on sun-bleached planks. The crew's contempt hung thicker than monsoon humidity.

Liu squinted at the horizon where storm clouds devoured the sky. The sea's war-drums—rolling thunder and shrieking gales—heralded approaching doom.

"Battle stations!" Liu barked, seawater stinging his eyes as he shrugged into a commandeered captain's coat. Gold braid hung from his shoulders like butchered squid tentacles.

Xu's mirth died as he peered through the tortoiseshell's viewing port. "By the Nine Dragon Kings... Stormcaller crab mages!"

Liu stuffed the scholar back into his armored shell. "Relax. Big shows mean big fears." His slap left a red handprint on Xu's ashen cheek. "They want their princess breathing."

The Beamon planted himself at the prow, spine straight as a harpoon shaft. Lightning etched his silhouette against bruised skies while Pan-Ta warriors lit paper lanterns that defied the tempest—floating lotus blossoms in a ink-dark pond.

Before them rose Neptune's wrath incarnate:

Banilux whale-riders cracked tidal whips over orca mounts. Crimson-armored crustacean mages conducted lightning like infernal orchestra leaders. At the formation's heart, a gilded chariot drawn by seahorse-dragons bore a golden colossus—his trident scattering raindrops into prismatic halos.

"Raise the white flag!" Liu ordered. Xu's finest silk shirt fluttered up the mast—a surrender banner stinking of camphor and deceit.

The golden warlord's response came via living artillery:

A school of swordfish erupted from the waves, their nose-spikes glinting like executioners' blades. They arrowed toward Liu, seawater shearing off their bodies in crystalline veils. At the last heartbeat, they banked with military precision, razored snouts grazing the Beamon's cheek before plunging back into darkness.

Liu didn't flinch. "Teach them manners."

Guð's trident became a comet. The steel prongs skewered a leaping marlin mid-taunt, pinning its thrashing form to the mast. Blood rained down, painting the white flag in Rorschach patterns of defiance.

"Come taste Beamon steel, scale-bellied cowards!" Guð's roar shook rigging lines.

The sea held its breath.