Scar once more stood on the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean, listening to the tranquil sound of bone crushing waves crashing against the rocks below. The wind played with his ragged cloak, making it dance softly and whip behind him, revealing the [Fjord Carver] that was already clutch in his hand.

His companions stood either side of him, Daisy on his left and Cynthia on his right. Alexandra was still obsessing over her vengeance, the most surprising part of which was that Cynthia was here instead of helping her girlfriend.

Naturally he had asked when she arrived, and she simply told him that it held no interest for her. She helped Alexandra capture the idiotic scarecrow from the field he appeared in, but after that she left her to her 'entertainment' alone.

When Cynthia had told him this, she had made sure to keep her expression completely blank, which meant literally removing her mouth and only using the most basic, inexpressive eyes just she used to have when she was starting out.

It was obvious from that alone that she was keeping something from him, that it was more complicated that she presented it to be. But Scar didn't pry or push. If she wanted to tell him, she'd do so when she was ready. Until then, they had other things to do and preoccupy their minds with.

When the sound of nervous footsteps came from behind him, Scar didn't bother to turn and simply spoke out towards the ocean.

"Is it done? Nothing more to hold you back?"

Mayfly bit his lip nervously, looking out onto the empty ocean with apprehension. The sun hadn't fully hid itself behind the horizon yet, there was still time to run and reset. However, he bit his lip harder, just enough to draw a trickle of blood and banish those cowardly thoughts.

He took a deep breath, fixed his posture as he stood up straight and gave Scar a meaningful nod. Then, about 30 seconds later, he realised that Scar wasn't looking at him and quickly spoke up, stumbling over his words in the process.

"Y-yes. It's all done. I finally had the perfect day and actually helped the people I trapped here. But... it will all be for nothing if you can't beat these monsters. Are you sure you can do it?

I mean... No offence, but all you have for back up is a monster and a little girl. They are a literal undead army. I don't see how you are supposed to beat them."

Doubt clung tight to his heart, squeezing the life out of him bit by bit. Against all of his instincts, every single one of them, he decided to trust this strange masked man. Why? because those were the instincts of a coward.

He wanted to be more than those, so he had to go against his entire nature. But perhaps starting with something so dramatic was a bit too much... Maybe he could just let these fools die and go back to something simpler. Agh, No! That was coward talk, again!

Mayfly shook the thoughts from his help and let out a sudden gasp, as a light layer of fog began to drift around his ankles. It was too late to turn back now. He quickly raised his head, focusing on Scar, who chuckled softly at Mayfly's seemingly idiotic statement.

"You are a frog in a well, my friend. A pathetically tiny and shallow well of your own creation. Don't doubt my companions in the slightest. This 'little girl' is easily stronger than you have ever been.

She could probably kill you with just her pinky."

Mayfly had a look of absolute horror as he turned to the little girl, who gave him a mischievous smile and wiggled her pinky finger at him, sending a shiver down his spine.

"As for myself," Scar continued, smirking underneath his mask, "I wouldn't even have to lift a finger. It would simply be that easy. But the monster is the one you should fear the most. Our killings would be swift, but with her... Well, have you ever wanted to be eaten alive and slowly digested in acid?"

Scar finally glanced over his shoulder, letting out a chuckle at the disturbed and horrified look on Mayfly's face. Was that cruel? Maybe. But it was fun too. Ah, and here comes the rest of the fun, just in time.

Just like before, as soon as the sun dipped behind the horizon, the fog blanket became heavier as ghostly ships manifested themselves out of thin air, sailing across the fog instead of on the ocean far below.

However this time the ships didn't come into dock. Instead they remained at their arrival distance as the entire fleet slowly turned their sides to the cliff. Shutters flipped open and rusted, barnacle covered cannons poked from the hundreds of holes.

Mayfly let out a terrified yelp, turning on his heels and tried to run. However before he could even take a step he tripped on nothing and found himself being dragged over to the group by an invisible string tied around his ankle.

He cried and whimpered the entire time. Even if he was used to death, that didn't mean he enjoyed it. He liked swift, painless deaths. Not being blown apart by cannons and left to bleed out with nothing but stump legs.

Scar just rolled his eyes at the man's antics, dragging him over to the group and keeping him bound in place by a few threads. He looked down at him with a withering gaze, shaking his head slightly.

"Relax. You're better off staying right here instead of running, trust me."

A cacophony of thunderous booms echoed out, hundreds of plumes of smoke rising from iron barrels as the powder was lit and cannonballs streaked across the sky. The metallic hunks whistled as they flew, an entire fleets worth of cannonballs all aimed at one singular spot.

Scar didn't move, neither did his companions. In fact he didn't even look away from Mayfly, who was whimpering and crying at his feet like a baby. Instead he just raised his hand and snapped his fingers.

It was an action that he didn't actually need to do, technically speaking. But sometimes, their was nothing wrong with a little drama and flair when showing off.

Dozens of runes, each of them more than four metres high, suddenly flared to life along the entire edge of the cliff. They had been meticulously carved into the stone, each of them connected to their carver and just waiting for their energy source.

From where he lay, Mayfly was unable to see these runes, as they were situated below him. What he could see, however, was a transparent emerald wall, formed of thousands of interlocking pentagons, rising from the edge of the cliff and extending high above them.

When the cannonballs hit the wall, it deformed and bent, but it never broke. It absorbed the impact, stretching like rubber before snapping back. The entire volley that had been launched at them, was promptly returned back to wence it came.

Some of them sailed into the fog harmlessly, disintegrating into nothing before they hit the ocean below. But others smashed through the already shattered hulls of the ships that had fired them.

Splinters flew through the air, holes punched through ruined hulls, as ghostly wails sounded throughout. Although the ships couldn't sink into the fog, as bouyancy meant nothing to them, that didn't mean the same for structural integrity.

A dozen ships in the fleet creaked and crumbled, succombing to their countless new injuries as what wood was left simply snapped and shattered under its own weight.

As the ships shattered, some fragments of them losing their mystical levitation ability and falling through the fog to the ocean below, they were not alone. Screams of terror rang out as Mayfly watched in awe, as hundreds of ghostly pirates plummeted to their deaths.

Their ghostly bodies scattered against the rocks below. The ocean water melting them like acid as they desperately struggled to paddle their way back to shore as the ghastly flesh actively moulted from their ghostly bones.

None of them managed to make it as anything more than a puddle of lifeless ectoplasm that was quickly dissolved and absorbed by the salty waves.

"Ah, Isn't it wonderful what you can do with a little preparation? I have to admit, this time loop was useful. This would have been much more irritating had this ghastly fleet not been so punctual and predictable."

Mayfly's attention dragged itself away from the melting ghosts as he whipped his head towards the laughing Scar. He was still laying on the ground at Scar's feet, bound in his threads so that he didn't run away.

Yet as he gazed up at him, Mayfly's eyes practically sparkled. The cloaked figure, his cape dancing elegantly in the wind, seemed so regal and divine in his eyes. This was what it meant to be powerful, he was sure of it.

A man who could stare down a fleet of undead and their devastating cannons, and thank them for it. If he didn't already have a loop set up, a part of Mayfly seriously considered setting one up now, so he could witness this moment over and over, like rewinding an action movie.

Instead this little frog just peeled his eyes open wider, keeping his mouth clamped shut, not wanting to miss a single moment of this supreme demonstration of life outside of the Well.

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