Clang! Clang!
Steel clashed violently as the roars of pirates filled the air, echoing across the broken city streets. Around them, an arena of chaos: pirates chanting, guns raised, fire flickering in barrels. Above it all, the storm raged on.
From the sidelines, Jack's group shouted over the noise:
"Get him, Jack!" Eve cried, her voice raw with emotion.
"Parry left! Watch your stance!" the redheaded man called, desperately trying to help.
"He's doomed," muttered the boy with glasses, shaking his head.
In the center, Jack swung with all his fury, every strike fueled by grief, anger, and vengeance.
But the King—
He deflected each blow with ease, smiling like it was a dance.
Jack's face twisted with rage. His eyes burned—so bright they looked ready to ignite.
"Why so angry?" the King mocked, dancing back with a taunting flick of his blade. "You seem tense."
"You're seriously asking that?" Jack spat, his breath ragged. "You turned all of New York into your personal death game!"
He swung again—harder, faster, wild with emotion.
"We don't deserve this! You do!"
The King finally stopped smiling.
His blade met Jack's mid-swing with a heavy clang, and with a swift move, he kicked Jack to the ground.
Jack fell hard, his sword clattering beside him.
From the crowd, Rose gasped, covering her mouth. The silver-diamond group stood frozen.
"You say I deserve to die?" the King muttered, his voice low now.
He took a slow step forward.
"People die every day—by governments, by bullies, by killers far worse than me. The world was already a sick game before mine."
He smirked again, but this time there was something hollow behind it.
"In reality, there are no second chances. At least in my game… I gave you six."
He held up a hand, mimicking a dice roll.
"I gave you options. If someone can't survive even that—do they really deserve to live?"
Then, without warning, the King lifted his shirt with his free hand.
Scars. Cuts. Bruises. Faded wounds carved across his chest and ribs, too many to count.
"I don't play games because I want to," he whispered, eyes wild. "I play them because he played them first."
He leaned down, staring Jack in the eyes.
"My dad deserved to die."