The sea breeze blew her midnight blue hair. Her heart was pounding in her chest, and she felt like she was going to burst.

She twirled her sword in her hand and gripped it tightly. An extension of her hand. "The sword is an extension of your hand." These thoughts kept swimming through her mind.

They had been boarded. As she was drinking her mint tea amidst the peace and quiet, suddenly there were shouts from the other end of the ship.

Another ship and its crew were attacking her crew. Her ship. They wouldn't get away with it.

So here she was, ready to pounce on some man who considered himself a big deal.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Lean muscles, well-dressed, toothy smile—a typical big-eyed, cocky, and narcissistic person. They fought for a long time amidst the cacophony when she finally managed to stab him in the stomach and send him unconscious to the floor. She climbed the ropes and up the mast for a better view.

They all fought tooth and nail. That's what she loved about her crew—how loyal and faithful they were. Attacking them was not new. Whoever dared to touch them always got what they deserved. But now... now she wasn't so sure if they would make it. They were caught in a moment of weakness. No one had expected this. They had appeared out of nowhere. Literally!

"Azara! Lie down!"

She jumped onto the deck, drew her dagger from the hip holster, and slashed the throats of two men surrounding her best friend, her right hand, her second. It was a good thing she called out to her; otherwise, she would have had a knife stuck in her head. She...