CHAPTER 68: [68] ONE FOOL’S GAMBIT

"TITAN BOOST ULTIMATE CANNON!" Jack roared, hurling the energy sphere forward with all his might.

The blast tore through the air like a miniature comet, trailing streamers of destructive force that illuminated the chamber in a hellish mix of pink and blue. Pierre could feel the heat washing over him even before it arrived, could smell his own hair beginning to singe. The very air distorted around the approaching energy, warping like fabric being stretched to its breaking point. The artifact’s power still coursed through his body, amber light pulsing beneath his skin in chaotic patterns, but he knew with cold certainty it wouldn’t be enough to survive a direct hit from Jack’s ultimate attack.

So he didn’t try to.

Instead, Pierre planted his feet firmly against the volcanic glass floor, feeling its ancient smoothness beneath his boots. He raised his pipe at a precise angle—not directly in front of himself, but offset by exactly twenty-three degrees—and channeled every ounce of Hardy’s stolen endurance into his arms and shoulders. His muscles screamed in protest, tendons stretching to their limits as he braced for impact.

Just like redirecting a roundhouse kick, he thought grimly. Except this kick could level a mountain.

The blast struck the metal with the force of a falling star. The pipe glowed white-hot instantly, nearly melting in his grip. Pierre felt his bones crack under the impact—ribs splintering, shoulder dislocating with a sickening pop. His teeth clenched so hard he thought they might shatter, a scream building in his throat that he refused to release. But against all odds, the pipe held, and more importantly, it redirected the energy’s trajectory by exactly the angle he’d calculated.

"No!" Moreau’s voice cut through the deafening roar of the attack, her golden eyes widening as she realized Pierre’s intent.

The deflected beam, still carrying most of its catastrophic power, slammed into the chamber’s main support pillar near the entrance tunnel. The ancient volcanic stone, already weakened by centuries of geological stress and laced with fragile amber veins, shattered like glass under the assault. Cracks spider-webbed up the walls in jagged lightning patterns, racing toward the ceiling as the entire structure began to groan and shift. Dust and tiny fragments of amber rained down like glittering snow, catching the fading light of Jack’s attack.

Pierre felt the blowback hit him like a physical wall, hot air searing his lungs and pressure crushing against his eardrums. The force picked him up and hurled him across the chamber, his body ragdolling through the air before slamming into the far wall. Something in his chest gave way with a sickening crunch. He tasted copper flooding his mouth and felt warmth spreading across his chest, soaking through his shirt in a spreading crimson stain. His vision swam, darkness encroaching at the edges, but through the haze of pain, he heard the most beautiful sound in the world.

The rumble of falling stone.

First came the smaller rocks, pebbles and chunks no bigger than a fist, pattering down like deadly hail. Then larger pieces broke free, crashing to the floor with ground-shaking impact. The electric lights installed by Moreau’s crew swayed wildly on their cables, casting manic shadows across the terrified faces of everyone in the chamber.

The entrance tunnel collapsed in a thunderous roar that shook the entire island. Tons of volcanic rock and shattered amber came crashing down in a deadly avalanche, dust billowing outward in choking clouds. The falling debris sealed the chamber’s only exit behind an impenetrable wall of rubble, trapping them all within the ancient heart of the volcano. The electric lights flickered once, twice, then died completely, leaving only the amber heart’s eerie pulsing glow to illuminate the tomb they’d all become trapped in.

Through pain-blurred eyes, Pierre watched Moreau’s face transform. Her triumphant smile—the smile of a predator who thought her prey was cornered—vanished like smoke in a hurricane. Her golden eyes went wide with disbelief, then narrowed to predatory slits as the full scope of what had just happened sank in. The scaled fingers of her left hand curled into claws, black talons extending involuntarily and leaving deep gouges in the volcanic glass floor beneath her.

"You fool!" she snarled, whirling to face Pierre’s crumpled form. "You’ve trapped us all!"

Pierre coughed, tasting blood, but managed a weak smile through the pain. His ribs felt like broken glass grinding against each other, and something warm was trickling down his forehead, but the look on Moreau’s face made every injury worth it.

"My ship," he gasped, echoing Alyssa’s words from earlier. "My rules."

Jack stood frozen in the center of the chamber, his blue hair disheveled and his face pale with shock. The pink and blue energy around his fists had dissipated, leaving him looking smaller somehow, more human. He stared at the collapsed entrance, then at Pierre’s bleeding form, then at the terrified expressions on Alyssa and Raven’s faces as they rushed to their captain’s side.

"I... I didn’t mean..." Jack’s voice cracked like a teenager’s. "I was trying to save them."

"Save us?" Alyssa’s pale green eyes blazed with fury as she knelt beside Pierre, her hands hovering uncertainly over his injuries. "You nearly killed him!"

Raven pressed a torn piece of her shirt against the worst of Pierre’s wounds, her cat-like pupils dilated with adrenaline. "You didn’t even ask who was who, you muscle-brained idiot!"

Jack’s hands trembled as he looked around the chamber. The debris from his attack had damaged several of the amber formations, and golden resin dripped from the walls like tears. The artifact continued its hypnotic pulsing, casting shifting shadows that made everyone look like ghosts.

"But he was touching the artifact," Jack protested weakly. "He was glowing with dark power. I could sense the corruption in him."

"Because he absorbed it from someone else to stop them from hurting innocent people," Alyssa snapped. "Something you’d know if you bothered to ask questions before throwing around city-destroying attacks!"

Moreau’s laughter echoed through the chamber, but there was no humor in it now. Only cold calculation as she assessed their new circumstances. Her crew of Black Serpent pirates had taken defensive positions around the room’s perimeter, but their usual confidence had been replaced by nervous glances at the sealed entrance.

"How delightfully unexpected," Moreau said, her voice carrying the edge of a blade. "The great tactician has turned my trap into a mutual grave. Tell me, Pierre, was this always your plan? Or are you simply too stubborn to lose gracefully?"

Pierre tried to sit up, winced, and settled for propping himself against the wall. Hardy’s stolen endurance was the only thing keeping him conscious, but he could feel it fading like water through a cracked cup.

"Neither," he wheezed. "I just got tired of playing games with someone who thinks people are chess pieces."