Sky Pirate Assault
Kang Jin-cheol stared up at the airship floating in the sky with utter disbelief. He'd heard plenty about airships by now. Tobi had mentioned them while teaching him about the various races, and just this afternoon, Teacher Parm had rattled off facts about Lavito airships like it was nothing. But for it to appear so suddenly, announced by that ridiculous shout—it left him dumbfounded.
Then he felt a vibration rumbling up from underfoot. Thump-thump-thump—like a heartbeat.
"The ship's engines..."
Sure enough, the Baika freighter picked up speed, confirming his senses weren't playing tricks. Jin-cheol turned his head toward the passage leading down from the deck to the cabins—up above that, he figured, was the cockpit. Probably where Captain Romuto Quaibek was holed up, the guy he'd glimpsed briefly on the first day.
"Trying to rabbit before they board? Can this tub even go that fast?"
As if answering his mutter, the airship in the sky began sliding backward, receding into the distance. Leaning against the railing and peering aft, Jin-cheol spotted the pirates who'd been descending on rope ladders, now yelling frantically among themselves. The merchant ship was pulling ahead of the sky-bound airship.
But in the next instant, the pirates proved they weren't idiots. Something thwunged from the airship's prow. It shot straight through the iron-plated sail planted amidships—a harpoon.
The receding airship reeled back overhead, towed by the line connected to the harpoon. Then pirates poked gun barrels out of the open cargo bay in its belly. They aimed upward, toward what had to be the cockpit. Gunfire erupted in a staccato rat-tat-tat.
"...Fuck."
Hearing that burst, goosebumps prickled up Jin-cheol's neck. Nothing like the pop-pop of a single-shot pistol. Continuous fire. Memories from the battlefield, blurred by days spent carousing with the Olrogs, sharpened back to life. Last night's nightmare churned in his head too. And Teacher Parm's words echoed: Hasn't changed even after 3,000 years, has it? War.
The Baika freighter, which had surged forward, began to slow. At this rate, it'd grind to a halt any second. Jin-cheol's hand clenched the railing unconsciously. The metal bar, forged of steel, groaned and crumpled like paper—but its owner, fixated on the gunfire, didn't even notice.
"Oh, Jin-cheol!"
He whipped around at the call. Teacher Parm had emerged onto the deck, still impeccably dressed in his Baika suit despite the chaos, just like earlier that day. He scanned the deck quickly, then beckoned Jin-cheol over.
"Let's fall back to the stern."
"Where to? Those are the targets—no, pirates, right? They just shot the captain."
"That gunfire must've been aimed at the cockpit. He'll be fine. A captain knows how to save his own skin. Besides, we're not their target. Probably—"
His words cut off. A mixed band of about twenty Esai and Olrogs had started rappelling down the rope ladders or swinging from lines. They landed amid the deck and cargo, firing a warning shot skyward. Bang!
"Freighter crew, don't do anything stupid! Do as we say, and you'll all live!"
The shouter was an Esai. Unlike the armored ones from earlier, he wore a leather coat topped with a vest bulging with pouches—combat gear, to Jin-cheol's eye.
"Your captain's not dead! He's probably barricaded in the safe room by now! That was just a warning shot!"
As he bellowed, the other pirates prowled between cargo crates, dragging out the hiding workers.
"We're only after the Antela clan inside! The rest of you workers, don't pull any shit—just hunker down in the corner!"
The pirates and their dragged workers converged toward Jin-cheol and Teacher Parm, toward the stern. Parm spoke up.
"Let's do as they say. No point stepping up—we'd just catch a bullet."
"...You seem used to this."
"As I said, I'm an experienced medic. Seen my share of this."
"Doesn't make standing in front of guns any less bullshit..."
Parm replied swiftly. "Like that Esai said, their target's the Antela delegation. This isn't a luxury liner hauling valuables—it's a freighter pirates can strip and ditch quick. They go after passenger ships' gold, not food. No need to rile them; they won't waste ammo on workers."
With that, he raised his hands and approached the pirates. Jin-cheol watched his back, sighed deeply, tucked his fish sword into his belt, and followed suit, hands up.
"Heh. Nice and easy over here."
The Olrog pirate herded the workers and Parm at gunpoint toward one side of the ship. But spotting Jin-cheol, he tilted his head.
"What're you?"
"What else? A worker."
"Worker?"
The crude gun in the Olrog's hand swung toward him. Damn, that thing's pipe-rifle level.
"Hey! What's the holdup?!"
The Esai pirate hopping between crates yelled at the pause. The Olrog, gun steady on Jin-cheol, shouted back.
"Got a weird Esai here!"
"What? Weird Esai?"
The Esai pirate vaulted a stack of crates and peered down at Jin-cheol.
"What the hell are you? Esai? Not Olrog either."
Hands still raised, Jin-cheol sighed. "Fuck if I know."
"You don't know?"
"Yeah. Anyway, not Esai."
The Olrog's face darkened—he figured Jin-cheol was bullshitting. But the Esai overhead shrugged it off.
"Whatever. Line him up with the workers!"
"What? He's a fake Esai!"
"Shut it! Siol's crawling with every mongrel breed—you ever seen a Kampoeni with a snake head? Anyway, not Antela—put him with the rest!"
The Olrog snorted in irritation but jerked his chin at Jin-cheol to move. Good, play nice, you bald gorilla.
The pirates swiftly herded the workers to one side. The black-footed Kampoeni and slave Olrogs complied meekly—they knew better than to provoke armed men.
Thus crammed and seated on the starboard deck, Jin-cheol muttered, "Fewer than I thought..."
These fantasy pirates weren't all that brutal, apparently. Don't pirates usually slaughter for fun?
But then he saw a black-footed Kampoeni crumple after a rifle butt to the face for growling defiance. It tucked tail at the gun barrel.
With the workers secured, the pirates massed at the entrance to the cabins and crew quarters—all but two left to guard.
"Let's go!"
They charged in with a unified shout. But after three entered, gunfire boomed from inside, halting the rush.
"Fighting those sword guys?"
Hope they're okay. Recalling the bickering Esai warriors from earlier, Jin-cheol's eyes widened. A bulky shape flew out the doorway, bowling over nearby pirates. It was one of the Olrogs who'd gone in, hurled by Amuta—the Esai warrior from before—who strode out confidently.
"Oh..."
A green-glowing blade gleamed in his hand, dripping blood.
The Esai pirate still perched atop the cargo bellowed. "What're you idiots doing? Shoot!"
"Grraaah!"
An Olrog roared, unleashing a deafening brrrt-tat-tat of full-auto fire mixed with single shots. The deck guards swung their guns that way too, hammering triggers.
But Jin-cheol's jaw dropped. Amid the barrage, Amuta simply crouched, extending his empty left hand. His breastplate shimmered, projecting a translucent barrier around him that deflected every bullet.
"Whoa, Esai magic!"
Teacher Parm shot Jin-cheol a baffled look for blurting it out. Undeterred, the pirates' volley cut short fast—magazines held maybe a dozen rounds for autos, three or four for bolt-actions.
As they fumbled reloads, Amuta and the Esai warriors lurking inside ghosted out. Green blade-flashes trailed them like comet tails, slicing into pirate flesh. Blood fountained.
The warriors were insanely fast. As Jin-cheol knew from earlier, once their armor magic kicked in, they moved like speedsters from superhero flicks. Six pirates dropped in a blink—one per warrior.
They couldn't sustain the speed, though; they slowed to "normal" paces.
"Damn psycho sword-swingers!"
The cargo-perched Esai pirate leveled his long rifle like a spear—bayonet fixed—and leaped down.
"Die—!"
Targeting Amuta. Who spun effortlessly, parrying the thrust and slashing back. Green light kissed the pirate's throat.
"Gurk..."
One down. Amuta lunged at the next. Gunfire cracked—reloads or sidearms. But the Esai were pros at closing on gunners, dodging and throat-slitting with ease. Not super-speed, but fast enough; up close, pirates were no match.
"These fuckers know their blades..."
"That's why I said stay put. The Antela warriors will handle it."
Jin-cheol nodded agreement at Parm's aside. Was worried with guns in our faces, but this? We can just watch and munch snacks.
But as always, nothing went smoothly just because you thought it would. The pirates had a plan.
The stationary airship overhead. Something black plummeted from its bay, bounding across cargo straight for Amuta's head.
"Not today!"
Amuta's armor flared; he backpedaled. But the falling mass matched his speed, slamming home.
"Guh!"
Amuta flew backward. The fight froze; eyes locked on the newcomer.
"...What the fuck is that."
"Grrrr..."
A beast of steel, rubber, wires, and oil. Tiger-shaped feline predator, but no flesh—just screw-jointed cylinders for muscles. No sleek modern robot; it was ragged. Caked black grease, half-busted panels flapping or missing, innards whirring visibly. One eye smashed, the other iris whirring in its socket.
The mechanical beast's entrance silenced everyone. Then a figure dropped from the airship, rappelling before flipping gymnast-style to land beside it.
She was Esai. Rising slowly, her face bore an eyepatch—like sharing a glance with her mechanical companion. One-eyed.
Her single eye scanned the Antela warriors. Her lips curled in a predator's grin, baring teeth.
She said, "What'd you do to our mommies?"
Starts with mom insults—now that's a proper pirate.
Jin-cheol nodded to himself. Teacher Parm just stared like he'd lost it.