Nyx
The deck of Wraith had turned into a battlefield of roguish chaos, an explosion of sharpened steel, flaring tempers, and the unmistakable sound of pirate laughter laced with threats. The crews circled, sizing each other up, while Nyx leaned against the helm, arms crossed, watching the storm of energy swirl between them.
Silas clapped his hands together, his grin sharp. "Alright, you lot. Let's make this interesting. If you win, you keep your dignity. If you lose—well, I do need someone to scrub the deck, and Lennox has been suspiciously avoiding that duty for weeks."
Lennox snorted, rolling his shoulders. "You think I'm losing? I was born for this." He cracked his knuckles loud enough for a few of the crew to grimace. "If anything, you should be the one worried, Silas."
"I'm not the one fighting, big guy," Silas smirked. "You are."
Across from them, Vega twirled a dagger between her fingers, the silver catching the firelight. "Shall we get on with it?" she drawled. "Or are you all afraid of getting a few bruises?"
Eliza, standing beside Marek, adjusted the cuff of her coat. "Afraid? No. But I do prefer to pick my fights wisely." Her green eyes flashed. "And you, Vega, are a fight worth picking."
Marek leaned in slightly, grinning. "This might be fun after all."
And then, the first clash erupted.
Lennox and Marek locked fists, their brute strength sending shockwaves through the deck as they grappled like caged beasts. Lennox's raw power gave him the upper hand at first, but Marek was quicker and more calculated, ducking beneath a strike and retaliating with a sharp jab to Lennox's ribs.
"Nice," Lennox grunted. "Hope you didn't expect me to feel that."
"Didn't expect much at all," Marek retorted, barely sidestepping another swing.
Across the deck, Vega lunged at Eliza, the two women dancing with knives in a deadly display of agility. Blades flashed, sparks flying as they moved—fast, unpredictable, each strike forcing the other to adjust. Eliza parried a vicious swipe, shifting her weight at the last second, using the ship's tilt to propel herself forward.
"You are good," Vega admitted with a smirk, sidestepping. "But not good enough."
Eliza rolled her eyes. "Oh, please. Try harder."
A loud thud sounded as Lennox finally took Marek down with a shoulder slam, though Marek responded with a quick, dirty move—grabbing Lennox's ankle and yanking it out from under him. Both men hit the deck hard, laughing between ragged breaths.
Nyx watched as the tension between the crews shifted, sharpened through combat but tempered by the thrill of the fight. This wasn't just about proving dominance—it was about trust, about feeling out strengths and weaknesses, about figuring out how they would work together when a real battle came.
Silas leaned in close to Nyx, murmuring under the roar of combat, "Well, Captain. It's working."
Nyx smirked, watching as Vega and Eliza grappled, knives locking against each other before Vega twisted suddenly, knocking Eliza's weapon loose.
Eliza blinked, staring at the dagger now embedded in a crate nearby.
Vega smiled lazily. "Yield?"
Eliza snorted, retrieving the weapon with zero shame. "Not a chance."
Nyx let out a low chuckle. The crew would fight, they would struggle, they would taunt—but they would come together. And by the time the games ended, they wouldn't just be rivals learning to tolerate each other.
They'd be family.
The crew was still catching their breath, bruised but laughing, the war game leaving more than a few wounded egos and aching muscles. Vega had finally yielded to Eliza, though not without a smirk and a lingering glance that promised a rematch in the near future. The competition had done its job—the two crews had bled together, fought together, and now, slowly but surely, were learning to exist together.
But Eliza wasn't done. Not yet.
Nyx had barely wiped the sweat from her brow when Eliza turned to her, her eyes sharp, and her expression unreadable. The air shifted, the weight of an unspoken challenge settling between them. Nyx straightened, feeling the pull before the words even left Eliza's mouth.
"You and me, Captain," she said, voice carrying over the murmurs of the crew. "No weapons. No tricks. Just hands."
Nyx arched a brow, unimpressed by the challenge but unwilling to back down. Her crew had seen her fight plenty, but Raiden's crew—her crew now, whether they liked it or not—needed something more than just respect. They needed proof.
The murmurs among the crew were immediate, anticipation crackling like fresh lightning. Even Silas raised an eyebrow, though he wisely held his tongue.
Nyx rolled her shoulders, her muscles tight but ready. "This is about making sure I can hold my own, or is this about Raiden?" she asked, her tone dry but edged with something sharper.
Eliza tilted her head, as if weighing the question. She didn't deny it. "Call it my duty," she replied, stepping forward, her movements slow and measured. Raiden doesn't follow just anyone. And while he's out, that means I don't follow just anyone." Her green eyes flashed. "I need to see it for myself. I need to know you're worth standing beside him."
Nyx inhaled slowly, feeling something hot coil inside her chest. The jealousy she refused to name burned low beneath her ribs, but she buried it deep. She had no reason to feel threatened. No reason to resent the bond Eliza had with him, except that something about it did threaten her. And Eliza knew it.
"You think knocking me around is going to convince you I belong at the helm?" Nyx asked, stretching her fingers, loosening her stance. "Fine. But I hope you hit harder than you talk."
Eliza's smirk flickered, sharp as a blade. "Oh, don't worry, Captain," she said. "I fight better than I flirt."
"Shame," Nyx shot back. "I hear you need all the help you can get."
A low oof sounded from Lennox in the crowd, followed by Marek whistling under his breath.
"Bold," Marek murmured to Silas. "Think she's got this?"
Silas didn't take his eyes off Nyx. "She always does."
The moment was shattered when Eliza lunged.
She was fast, striking with practiced precision, and anyone else might have faltered—but Nyx wasn't anyone else. She ducked the first blow, twisting away and countering with a sharp elbow aimed at Eliza's ribs. It connected, forcing Eliza to stumble, but she recovered quickly, flashing a grin through the pain.
"Alright," Eliza breathed, rolling her shoulders. "Let's dance."
The fight exploded into motion.
Eliza fought like a strategist, controlled and methodical, every strike designed to find an opening. Nyx fought like the ocean itself—fluid, unpredictable, wild enough that it forced Eliza to stay constantly on edge.
The crew roared as they collided—grappling, twisting, neither gaining full ground but neither giving it. Nyx caught Eliza's wrist, twisting her arm behind her back, but Eliza used the momentum to roll them both, forcing Nyx to break her hold. Nyx pivoted sharply, sweeping her leg out to take Eliza down, but Eliza twisted mid-air, avoiding the full force of it.
"You fight like a damn storm," Nyx muttered as she dodged another strike, barely breathing hard.
Eliza grinned. "And you fight like a tsunami."
Nyx smirked. "Then I guess I'm winning."
Eliza laughed, breathless, before suddenly shifting her weight. In a single fluid movement, she forced Nyx back with a hard shove, knocking her off balance just enough to capitalize on it. Nyx stumbled, caught herself, and for a brief moment, they stood still, both breathing hard, both assessing.
Eliza tilted her head. "You don't quit."
Nyx's smile was slow, knowing. "You just figuring that out?"
The silence stretched, thick with something unspoken. Finally, Eliza sighed, rolling her shoulders before reaching up and adjusting her coat cuffs. "Alright," she muttered. "You'll do."
The crew let out cheers, a few chuckles of relief, and the divide between them cracked further, giving way to something closer to unity.
Nyx let out a slow breath, shaking her head as she looked at Eliza again, studying the faint smile on her lips.
Eliza had tested her, had pushed her, had sized her up, and Nyx had won.
Nyx exhaled, trying to ignore the strange satisfaction curling in her chest, but the real battle—whatever was brewing between her and Raiden—was yet to come.