The Seahawk carved through the turbulent waters with desperate urgency, her weathered hull groaning against waves that crashed over the bow in explosive bursts of foam. Salt spray lashed the deck like needles, and the overcast sky pressed down like a suffocating shroud, its pewter clouds roiling with the promise of storm. The wind howled through the rigging with a banshee's wail, stretching the canvas to its limits while ropes creaked ominously under the strain.

Across the deck, chaos orchestrated itself into deadly purpose. Sailors moved with practiced efficiency born of countless battles, their bare feet sure on the slick planks as they hauled ammunition to the ballistae. The massive siege weapons dominated the ship's rails, dark iron and reinforced wood that spoke of serious intent. Crossbowmen took positions behind hastily erected barriers of barrels and crates.

The three pirate vessels approached like harbingers of doom, their black sails billowing with predatory grace. Each canvas bore the distinctive sigil of the Fractured Tide, jagged waves rendered in bone-white paint. The lead ship dominated the formation, a massive brigantine whose scarred hull told stories of countless victories. Barnacles and seaweed clung to her waterline like trophies, and the figurehead, a skeletal mermaid with hollow eye sockets, seemed to leer through the spray.

Fin stood at the bow, his masked face turned toward the approaching threat. Beneath his calm exterior, his pulse quickened with the familiar cocktail of anticipation and focus that preceded violence. The mana disruptor components rested safely in his dimensional storage, but his mind was already racing ahead, cataloging possibilities and calculating odds. This was an opportunity to test his abilities against live opponents in chaos.

The air beside him shimmered and distorted, reality bending before Soga materialized with casual elegance. The spatial mage appeared mid-stride, as if he'd been walking toward this moment through folded space itself. His featureless mask turned first toward Captain Tatum on the quarterdeck, where the grizzled officer barked orders, then swiveled back to regard Fin.

"Well, this is disappointing," Soga drawled, his voice carrying the modulated tones of the mask. The sound cut through the pandemonium of preparation with unnerving clarity.

Fin's laugh was sharp. "Disappointing? They're pirates, Astar. This should be entertaining. Besides, their leader's bound to provide some challenge."

Soga shook his head with theatrical disappointment, crossing his arms in a gesture that somehow conveyed both boredom and superiority. "Afraid not. Tier Three at best, and barely that. I took the liberty of conducting reconnaissance while you were all rushing about."

From his elevated position on the quarterdeck, Captain Tatum stared down at the masked duo with undisguised bewilderment. His weathered hands gripped the rail until his knuckles showed white through sun-darkened skin, and the approaching enemy fleet reflected in his narrowed eyes like approaching storm clouds. "What in the depths' name are those two babbling about?" he muttered to his first mate, a scarred veteran who could only offer a helpless shrug in response.

These mercenaries discussed a pirate ambush with the casual tone of men debating dinner options. Tatum had hired guild fighters before, some competent, others merely adequate, but this level of nonchalance bordered on suicidal arrogance.

Soga, apparently sensing the captain's confusion, glanced upward and offered another elaborate shrug. The gesture somehow managed to convey both reassurance and condescension simultaneously. "Just discussing the evening's entertainment, Captain. Nothing that should concern you."

Fin dismissed the exchange entirely, his analytical mind already shifting into combat mode. "Numbers and capabilities?"

Soga tilted his head thoughtfully, as if consulting an invisible ledger. "The port vessel, that sleek sloop, carries fifteen people. Five Tier Two practitioners, the remainder mere Tier One fodder. The starboard ship mirrors those numbers: sixteen total, six Tier Two, balance inconsequential. The flagship presents more substance: twenty pirates including their Tier Three captain. Water affinity, judging by the mana. Nineteen Tier Two subordinates, though their formations suggest overconfidence rather than tactical acumen."

Fin nodded, a predatory grin spreading beneath his mask. The familiar rush of pre-combat clarity flooded his system, sharpening his senses and quickening his reflexes. "Standard approach then, hit and run."

Soga's chuckle held dark promise as he clapped a hand on Fin's shoulder. "Actually, I was thinking more along the lines of hit and hit. Ready?"

Before Fin could respond, the world dissolved into brilliant turquoise light. The Seahawk's deck vanished, replaced by the disorienting sensation of space folding around them like origami made of reality itself.

Captain Tatum blinked at the empty space where his hired mercenaries had stood moments before. The salt-stained planks bore no trace of their presence, as if they'd been mere illusions conjured by his desperate imagination. "Absolutely mad," he growled, shaking his head before turning to bellow orders at his crew. "All hands! Prepare to repel boarders! And somebody get those damned ballistae loaded!"

Fin's world exploded back into focus as his boots slammed onto sun-bleached planks that rolled beneath him with the ship's motion. He materialized in the heart of the left ship, a vessel built for speed and stealth rather than prolonged combat. Coils of rope lay scattered across the deck like serpents, interspersed with barrels of rum and provisions. The crew, fifteen weathered pirates caught completely off-guard, gaped at the masked figure who'd appeared from thin air.

For a heartbeat, perfect silence reigned. Then chaos erupted like a powder magazine touched by flame.

"Boarder on deck!" The cry came from a massive Tier One pirate. His cutlass cleared its sheath with a metallic rasp that seemed to trigger the crew's collective response. "Sound the alarm! We've got a bloody teleporter!"

The deck transformed into a maelstrom of violence and confusion. Pirates stumbled over each other in their haste to respond, cutlasses and daggers appearing from sheaths and boot-tops. Curses filled the air in three different languages, creating a babel of threats and commands that would have been comical under different circumstances.

Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

Fin didn't waste precious seconds on banter. His hand flashed to the holster at his thigh, fingers closing around the grips of five runed throwing knives in a single fluid motion. With practiced ease, he hurled them outward in a spread pattern, each knife finding a different section of the deck.

The pirates lunged forward with bloodthirsty roars, but their target had already vanished.

Quantum Leap activated with silent precision, reality bending around Fin as he dissolved into ethereal energy and reformed behind the scarred leader. The massive pirate sensed the displacement too late, Fin's elbow drove into the junction where skull met spine with surgical accuracy. The blow delivered just enough force to render the man unconscious without permanent damage, dropping him to the deck like a felled tree.

Two Tier Two pirates spun toward the disturbance, their affinities flaring to life with dangerous intensity. The first, a lean woman with intricate tattoos covering her arms, summoned jagged ice shards. They formed in rapid succession as they oriented toward Fin's position. Her companion, a bearded man with gold teeth, channeled wind magic to accelerate a volley of throwing daggers, the blades whistling as they cut through the air.

Fin leaped again, quantum energy carrying him upward in a graceful arc that placed him directly above his attackers. Time seemed to slow as he twisted in descent, his body rotating with practiced efficiency. His spinning kick connected with the ice-wielder's temple, shattering her concentration and sending the conjured shards dissolving back into harmless vapor. The impact drove her sideways into her wind-wielding companion, and they collapsed in a tangle of limbs and frustrated curses.

The remaining pirates fired crossbows in wild desperation, quarrels whistling through empty air where Fin had been mere moments before. He materialized beside one of his thrown knives, appearing low to the deck and sweeping his leg in a wide arc. Three Tier One pirates tumbled like bowling pins, their weapons clattering across the planks as they struggled to regain their footing.

Fin followed up with rapid palm strikes, precise, non-lethal techniques that targeted pressure points and nerve clusters. Each blow was calculated to incapacitate without permanent harm, though the pirates' groans suggested they wouldn't be rejoining the fight anytime soon.

"Stand and fight, ye cowardly dog!" The challenge came from a female pirate whose Tier Two Earth affinity had transformed her skin into stone-like armor. She charged with a warhammer that looked capable of crushing hull planks, her footsteps splintering the deck beneath her enhanced weight.

Fin's smirk was invisible beneath his mask, but it flavored his voice as he replied, "As you wish." He waited until the last possible moment before activating Quantum Leap, appearing at her flank just as momentum carried her past his previous position. Physics and leverage combined as he executed a perfect hip throw, redirecting her charge into the mainmast. The impact resonated like a bell, sending vibrations through the entire ship as she crumpled unconscious at the base of the wooden column.

Within minutes that felt like hours, the deck resembled a battlefield painted in shades of defeat. Pirates groaned and stirred weakly among the debris of their overconfidence, nursing injuries that would heal but not soon enough to matter. Fin stood amid the carnage, his breathing steady and controlled, methodically retrieving his throwing knives with casual efficiency.

Only then did he select one blade and hurl it toward the massive brigantine at the formation's center, watching as it buried itself deep in the bow's seasoned timbers. Quantum Leap carried him there in a flash of displaced space.

Soga lounged against the flagship's ornate railing with the casual air of a man enjoying afternoon tea rather than orchestrating maritime combat. His legs were crossed elegantly, and behind him the deck told a story of systematic defeat. Nineteen pirates lay bound in glowing spatial restraints, their wounds clean but effective in rendering them harmless.

"What took you so long?" Soga's voice carried mock concern as he pushed off from the rail. "I finished the other two ships ages ago."

Fin glanced around the scene of organized devastation, noting the precision, every pirate alive but thoroughly neutralized. "Thorough work. Where's their illustrious captain?"

Soga jerked a thumb toward the open ocean with theatrical flourish. "Our brave leader demonstrated the better part of valor. Observe."

Following the gesture, Fin spotted a distant figure skimming across the waves on a surfboard of churning water. The pirate captain fled toward the horizon with desperate speed, his Tier Three water affinity propelling him faster than any conventional vessel. Even at this distance, his panic was evident in the erratic course he carved through the swells.

Soga arched an eyebrow that remained invisible beneath his mask. "Fancy some target practice? I'd hate for him to spread tales about our hospitality."

Fin's grin returned with predatory intensity. "Gladly." He extended his dominant hand, mana coalescing in brilliant arcs that painted the air with electric beauty. Plasma Bow materialized, a weapon of pure energy. Its string thrummed with harmonics that seemed to resonate in the bones, while heat shimmer distorted the air around its elegant frame.

"Keep the explosion manageable," Soga advised with evident amusement. "We don't want to boil half the ocean and upset the local ecosystem."

Fin's chuckle was rich with anticipation as he drew back the plasma string. An arrow of superheated energy formed between his fingers. Theoretical Physics Application flooded his mind with calculations, trajectory accounting for wind resistance, the curve of the planet, mana dissipation over extreme range, even the target's likely evasion patterns based on observed behavior.

The release was perfect silence followed by explosive motion. The plasma arrow streaked across the water like a fallen star, moving so fast it created a temporary furrow in the ocean surface. Steam rose in its wake as superheated energy met seawater, creating a trail that marked its passage toward the fleeing captain.

Fin's aim was surgical in its precision. The arrow struck not the man himself, but the water directly beneath his improvised surfboard. The controlled explosion sent up a geyser of steam and displaced seawater, shattering the conjured platform and launching its rider in a graceless arc through the air. The captain's limbs flailed helplessly before he crashed down unconscious into the waves, his escape ended as abruptly as it had begun.

Soga whistled appreciatively, the sound somehow conveying both admiration and surprise. "Beautiful shot. Non-lethal, too, such restraint."

Fin dismissed the plasma bow with a flourish that sent residual energy crackling harmlessly into the air. Soga teleported them both to the floating form of the defeated captain, hoisting the man's unconscious body over his shoulder like a sack of grain. The pirate's clothes were singed to blackened rags, and angry red burns covered half his exposed skin, but his chest rose and fell with steady breathing.

Another flash of displacement, and they materialized on the Seahawk's deck to find the crew staring in absolute silence. Soga unceremoniously dumped the charred captain at Tatum's boots, where the man groaned weakly but showed no signs of immediate recovery.

Captain Tatum's weathered face cycled through expressions of disbelief, awe, and consternation before settling on resigned acceptance. His jaw worked soundlessly for several seconds before he managed, "What... how in the depths... you were gone less than five minutes!"

Soga's shrug somehow managed to convey both modesty and superiority simultaneously. "Efficiency has always been our strongest selling point, Captain."

Fin, already dismissing the crew's amazement, returned to his position at the bow. He retrieved the mana disruptor components from his dimensional storage and spread them carefully across a section of canvas, his mind already shifting from combat mode back to the intricate work of magical engineering. Behind him, he caught fragments of Tatum's muttered conversation with his first mate: "Completely insane, the both of them. But I'll be damned to the depths if they aren't the most effective mercenaries I've ever hired."

The Seahawk resumed her course through calming seas, leaving three disabled pirate vessels in her wake.

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