The salty wind of the Stepstones whipped through Caraxas' red hair as she stood atop the rocky shore, the cries of dying pirates echoing in the air. The island they had taken was now a bloody battlefield, the remnants of pirates and mercenaries littered across the sand. She stood over one of the last survivors, a pirate groveling before her, his hands pressed to the ground in desperation as he muttered in a foreign tongue, pleading for mercy.

Caraxas' bright yellow eyes glinted with cold fury, her lips curling into a sneer. She had no patience for mercy, not for these men who had commited piracy against the throne, and with a swift motion, she drove it through the man's chest, silencing his desperate cries forever.

"Begging for mercy is a coward's last breath," she muttered to herself, wiping the blood from her blade with a cruel smile. "They dishonor themselves in such a way."

Daemon watched from a distance, a dark glint of approval in his eyes. He had always admired Caraxas for her ruthlessness. To him, mercy was a luxury, one he could not afford, and neither could she.

Caraxas turned, a fierce grin crossing her face. "They deserved worse," she said, looking back at the corpse. "But I’ll let the sea take the rest."