Legacy's Wake

Stitch flicked her needle into the air, effortlessly catching it before launching it forward at blinding speed, its form spinning as it cut through the air.

Without hesitation, Ophelia brought down her twin-edged spear in a powerful strike, aiming to deflect the attack. But the needle wasn't just a simple projectile. A ghostly thread, barely visible, guided its path, twisting it midair and allowing it to slip past the spear's edge.

Before Ophelia could react, the needle drove straight into her left shoulder.

"Bullseye. Dead-on." Stitch grinned, taking off in a sprint while her needle held Ophelia in place.

As she dashed forward, she reached into her casket with her left hand, pulling out several needles and weaving them between her fingers like claws. With a swift flick of her wrist, she sent them flying at Ophelia with blistering speed.

Ophelia felt the stiffness in her body fade just in time, breaking free from the immobilization. She quickly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding the incoming barrage. But before she could fully react, Stitch's form flickered—her body phasing like a ghost, vanishing into translucent wisps before reappearing in a rapid, flickering chain of motion.

In a blur, she materialized behind Ophelia, twisting her body mid-spin to snatch her thrown needles from the air. Without missing a beat, she hurled them once more, this time aiming for Ophelia's back. The sharp projectiles pierced her shoulders in rapid succession.

"Not again," Ophelia muttered, her body locking in place as the needles took effect.

Stitch crossed her arms behind her back, twirling a needle between her fingers with a smirk, her steps slow and playful as she weaved around Ophelia like a dancer enjoying the spotlight.

"You know, Royal Guard, I used to spend all my time thinking about those brats who treated me like trash." She circled behind Ophelia, tilting her needle beneath the woman's chin, close to her throat. "But no matter how much I wanted to get back at them, I never got the chance. They disappeared the moment Mendy spooked 'em. And after that? Everyone locked me away like some kinda curse." Her tone was sweet, almost teasing, but the needle resting against Ophelia's skin told a different story.

A bead of sweat slid down Ophelia's temple as her eyes wavered, uncertainty flickering in her usually sharp gaze. "Are you truly the same woman I encountered before? Your demeanor... it's different. Far more assured." Her voice remained poised, but there was no denying the unease creeping into her words.

Stitch grinned, casually drifting behind Ophelia and leaning her back against the frozen woman's like they were old friends. "Well, yeah. Why wouldn't I be?" She slipped around to the front again, walking backward with an easy swagger. "You're the one who loves throwing people under the bus, right? Just like your oh-so-lovely guests."

With a flick of her wrist, Stitch pointed her needle toward Temoshí. "Those guys were under your watch, weren't they? And yet, you pinned the blame on us when that artifact shattered—like we're the reason for the storm and all that mess in the sky." She took a step closer, tilting her head as her grin widened. "Tell me something, Royal Guard... ever stop to think that maybe—just maybe—that artifact was never real to begin with?"

"If that artifact was truly a false alarm, then Phalris wouldn't have kept it so close to her," Ophelia stated firmly, her voice unwavering despite her immobilization. "Why would she entrust it to you if it wasn't real?"

"Guess you never really knew the full story," Temoshí said, shrugging, his arms still crossed. "That artifact? Phalris thought it was the key to something important. But the truth is, it was just found randomly—no one had a damn clue what it actually did. We figured we'd piece it together once we got to Geyser Island. But in the end? It was a total scam. Just another one of Desmond's tricks."

Stitch stayed slightly bent forward, hands resting behind her back, grinning as she let Temoshí do the talking.

Ophelia's breath hitched, her muscles tensing despite the needles keeping her still. "You're delusional if you expect me to believe such nonsense. Desmond? Don't be ridiculous—he has nothing to do with this!"

Temoshí scoffed, shaking his head. "It's the truth, damn it. He told me himself. Why the hell won't you believe a single word we say?"

Ophelia's glare sharpened, her frustration evident despite her composed tone. "You expect me to believe that Desmond, a man who sacrificed everything to aid Phalris and the royal guard, is some kind of traitor? His loyalty is unwavering. Unlike pirates who thrive on deception, Desmond has proven himself time and time again."

Temoshí let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "You really don't get it, do you? Just because someone seems loyal doesn't mean they actually are. Desmond's been playing both sides, and he's good at it. He's got the marines in his pocket, making deals behind your backs. And guess what? He's working with Hollow too."

Ophelia's jaw tightened, but she remained unfazed. "If Desmond were truly working against us, there would be undeniable proof. Yet, all you have are empty words, no evidence to support your absurd claims."

Temoshí's smirk faded, his tone growing sharper. "We have proof. You just don't want to see it. He admitted it to me when we fought in the city. Straight from his own mouth. Or do you think I made that up for fun?" He tilted his head, watching her reaction. "Think about it. Doesn't it seem a little too convenient that Desmond always knows exactly where to be? That he's always one step ahead?"

Ophelia inhaled deeply, steadying herself. "Coincidence does not equate to guilt. And even if Desmond has made certain... compromises, it would be for the greater good. Unlike you pirates, he upholds justice."

Temoshí scoffed. "Justice? You really believe that? You think working with both the marines and Hollow at the same time is noble? He's been feeding you lies, and you're believing every word. That's not justice—that's manipulation."

Ophelia's fingers twitched, barely noticeable, but her expression remained firm. "Then prove it. Give me undeniable proof that Desmond is what you claim him to be. Because words alone will not shake my faith in him."

Stitch, who had been watching the exchange with amusement, twirled her needle in her fingers before chiming in. "Oh, don't worry, royal guard. We'll get you that proof. And when we do, let's see if you're still singing Desmond's praises." She leaned in closer, her grin widening. "Hope you're ready to have your whole world flipped upside down."

Temoshí sighed, shaking his head as he placed his hands on his hips. "Alright, let's lay it out nice and clear, like a damn court trial. We got the evidence, we got the witnesses, and we got the motive. Desmond's been playing all of you, and the artifact? Just another one of his tricks. You're standing here defending a man who's been leading you by the nose."

Ophelia kept her composure, standing firm like a prosecutor dismantling a weak argument. "If you had true evidence, you would have presented it already. Instead, you offer conjecture and empty accusations. Desmond is a decorated warrior, a trusted agent of Phalris. Why would he sabotage his own people?"

Temoshí rolled his shoulders, speaking like a defense attorney laying down his case. "Simple—because he ain't working for your people. He's working for himself. We know he planted that artifact. We know he set this whole thing up to throw Phalris and the Royal Guards off track. And I got a witness right here—Stitch saw the setup herself."

Stitch grinned, twirling a needle between her fingers like it was a gavel. "That's right. I saw him tampering with the damn thing before anyone else even knew it existed. He made sure that when it 'activated,' it'd make all of you think some catastrophe was happening. But it was all smoke and mirrors, a setup to send you on a wild goose chase."

Ophelia's eyes narrowed, her tone remaining professional and unwavering. "And yet, this so-called 'witness' is a pirate, known for deception and lawlessness. Hardly a credible source." She turned toward Temoshí with piercing authority. "If your case relies on the testimony of criminals, then your argument is already flawed."

Temoshí scoffed, stepping forward. "Oh, so now we're playing the 'who's trustworthy' game? Fine. Tell me, Ophelia, have you personally seen Desmond's hands clean in all of this? Have you questioned him? Or have you just assumed his innocence because of his rank? Because if you're throwing our witness out on bias, then I say you're operating on bias too."

Ophelia clenched her fists. "That is irrelevant. The burden of proof is on you. If Desmond were truly guilty, there would be undeniable, physical proof. You have provided none."

Temoshí smirked. "And yet, if he were truly innocent, wouldn't he be standing right here, defending himself?"

Ophelia hesitated for half a second. That was all the time she had before she swiftly turned and called out, "Trice."

A sharp gust of wind sliced through the tense courtroom-like standoff as a figure descended—a dark silhouette landing beside Ophelia.

Trice stood tall, the ominous gleam of his spear hovering in the air like the final ruling of a judge. He barely spared Temoshí and Stitch a glance before his spear spun in his hand with eerie precision. "Enough of this argument. I don't debate with criminals."

With a flick of his wrist, the spear shot forward, moving like a judge's gavel striking down its final verdict—swift, absolute, and merciless.

Temoshí and Stitch leaped aside, creating distance between each other as their eyes locked onto Trice, who had been lurking in the background all this time.

"Well, I guess this evens the playing field," Stitch remarked, keeping her needle close to her chest while staying alert, her focus razor-sharp on the growing threat before them.

The needles holding Ophelia in place suddenly loosened, releasing her from immobilization. She straightened, her gaze snapping toward the battlefield ahead. "No matter what lies you spin to drag Desmond through the mud, you'll regret it soon enough," she stated coldly.

Both sides stood still, locked in a tense standoff, neither making the first move—yet.

To be continued...