Author's Note: Yo. Chapter Six here for your reading pleasure.

My Campione Challenge has been accepted by Jam-Man365, so keep an eye on his story list.

If anyone is hesitating because they are unsure about creating Authorities, PM me and I'll make one up for you.

An addition to the No list are Titans, any of them. I doubt there is enough lore known about half of them to make a full list of abilities, except for a few of them, but they are banned from the challenge.

'Why?' I can hear you all asking. Think about it. ONE Titaness, Pandora, controls the Distribution and selection of Divine Authorities for all the Campione…and that is just ONE portion of her power. Can anyone say 'cheat code'?

As to this chapter…I did my best with it, but I really want to hear your opinions about it. Please review! Reviews help! Really!

As always, Read, Review and check out my other stories!

Disclaimer: I do not own Campione!

"Godō" - Regular Speech

'My Everyday life!' - Thoughts

"God Slayer!" - Heretic God/Powered Up Campione speech

"Fire!" - Magic/Authority Use

Chapter 6: Heretic God Davy Jones

With Jean

As the Eighth Campione strode out onto the deck of the Pucelle, she could see the gun ports on the side of The Flying Dutchman swing open and the canon being rolled out, ready to fire.

"Bloody bastard hell!" Jean cursed. She rather crudely channelled magic to her legs and leapt into the air, sailing into the sky and dive-bombing towards the ship, much to the surprise of the Heretic God on the prow.

Behind her, she heard the roar of the boat's engines as it started zigzagging its way back to the port, making certain to move erratically enough that any pre-twentieth century cannons would have a hell of a time drawing a bead on it.

She slammed into the main deck of the Man-O-War like a catapult stone, cracking the deck, although very surprisingly, she did not break through the decking.

"You DARE to board my ship, ye scurvy knave?!" Davy Jones boomed from his place at the prow. His beard whipped in the wind as he stomped down the stairs from the forecastle, his blade bared at her.

"You dare to have your ship on my ocean?" Jean shot back as she stood up straight, "I am Jean Campbell, the Eighth Campione, and by the will of Mother Pandora, I am here to defeat you!"

Davy Jones gave an enormous belly laugh. "BWA-HA-HA-HA-HA! So, that meddling goddess seeks to prevent me from plundering the seas again, does she? Well, 'twill take more than an interfering little girl to stop me! I AM A GOD!"

"And I am a God Slayer." Jean said softly, "Underestimate me at your own peril, Davy Jones!"

"Let us see how well ye maintain thy confidence when confronted by my crew, raised straight from the Locker!" the Seaman's Devil said with an evil grin, "Ye bungling bilge-rats! Slay this impudent wench and I shall release ye back to thine eternal slumber!"

A series of shambling steps drew Jean's attention to the rest of the deck and almost threw up at what she saw.

A mass of zombies, all wearing the rotten clothes they were wearing when they died. Their pallid and swollen flesh was hanging off their skeletons by a thread and they each had a look of torment upon what little remained of their faces.

'Corpses…! Oh. Of course. Davy Jones' Locker.' Jean thought in revulsion.

The location that sailors called Davy Jones' Locker was the very bottom of the sea, the seabed where ships that had sunk lay for the rest of eternity. The saying 'send him to Davy Jones' Locker' meant that the target's ship would be sunk or they would be pushed overboard to drown.

It made sense then, that Davy Jones the Heretic God would possess the ability to raise and control the drowned dead. As long as the dead had drowned at sea, they could be forced into service by the Seaman's Devil.

"Looks like it's time to fight!" Jean said determinedly, an unknown feeling welling up inside of her, "Oh Weapon of mine, golden and invincible. Come forth, so we may do battle with our foes!"

In a blaze of golden light, the [Tríaina] Authority materialised in her hands. Jean spun it around before drawing it back and leaping to the attack. With one swipe of her weapon, she cleaved the front rank of zombies in half, cutting them in half at the waist.

Jean couldn't describe the feeling that was rising up in her. It wasn't battle lust, nor was it hatred. It was, for lack of a better word, antagonism. Antagonism towards the corpses, or more specifically the power that animated the corpses, and antagonism towards Davy Jones himself.

'Was this why Poseidon wanted to hunt down Campione? Because he felt this antagonism towards them?' she wondered as she fell back from the clawing hands of the undead horde, 'What was it he said? 'To a God, a God Slayer is an unnatural occurrence that must be slain for the good of the world.' What if the same is true for a God Slayer?'

"Return to your slumber!" Jean shouted at the zombies. Those she had bisected shivered and crumbled to dust, while the rest just surged towards her, which was confusing.

"Ye may be able to use your stolen power to affect those of my crew who have been weakened, but the rest are immune!" Davy Jones declared.

This, Jean realised, also made sense. She had the power of Poseidon, the ruler of the sea, and these people had died and lain in Poseidon's realm for who knows how long. Davy Jones may have ripped them from their slumber and animated them under his command, but they were still technically residents of her usurped realm, so by weakening them, she was able to banish them back to their eternal slumber.

With a roar, Jean charged in and started smashing the undead crewmen of The Flying Dutchman with her trident, which would surprise most people. The general thought about pointed polearm weapons is that you always stab with them.

This is a gross misconception. The two primary weaknesses of a polearm user is the fear of someone stepping inside their reach and being overconfident about the advantage that that reach gave them. In order to overcome those weaknesses, one had to accept that the reach of your weapon was not almighty and accept that at some point, someone was going to avoid a thrusting attack and step inside your reach.

The trident styles that the [Tríaina] granted her access to did have their fair share of thrusts and jabs, it was true, but there were also plenty of blunt-force attacks that used the shaft of the trident, as well as a few that made use of the design of Poseidon's trident to add some slashing attacks, using the two outer bladed prongs of the trident to cut and slice.

It took about ten minutes to hack her way through the zombie horde, but in the end, Jean stood triumphant with the twitching remains of the crew around her. Raising her trident up, she slammed the butt of the weapon onto the deck.

"Return to your eternal rest, restless spirits of the drowned dead!" she decreed.

With a moaning sigh, the dead souls crumbled to dust and were blown away by the wind.

Turning around and pointing her weapon at Davy Jones, Jean narrowed her eyes at his utterly unconcerned gaze. He looked thoroughly amused, in fact.

"That takes care of your crew. Now for you." she said with a scowl.

"Arrr…ye did clean me crew up all nicely like, I'll give ye that." the Pirate Heretic God said sagely, "But do ye think that I only had that few number of crewmembers? Rise! Rise! All of ye, RISE!"

As he spoke, he thrust his cutlass into the air. The blade glowed with an eldritch green aura that made Jean shiver as it flickered and danced in the light before fading.

The sound of hands scraping on wood drew Jean's attention to the sides of the ship. A fresh wave of undead were clawing their way up the sides of The Flying Dutchman, ready to rip her to pieces if given half a chance.

"The number of dead at sea are uncounted billions!" Davy Jones roared in glee, "Thus, my power is unlimited! No matter how many you slay and return to rest, I can replenish my endless army indefinitely!"

"Y'know…you are really starting to irritate me with your ranting." Jean said through gritted teeth, "Let's get this over with or are you afraid to face me yourself?"

"Do not get cocky, God Slayer!" the Seaman's Devil snarled, "Abandon your attempt to slay me and I might be generous enough to allow you to die quickly, rather than have my army rip you to shreds and devour you!"

"I am faithful to the commands of my mother." Jean replied, "You will fall by my hand, Davy Jones. That is something you can take to the bank."

"Kill her, ye swabs!" Davy Jones roared angrily, encouraging his undead minions to attack Jean in a pair of massed waves.

"Pointless!" Jean growled. The redhead spun in a circle, slicing the zombie sailors in half with ease. After she banished them, the Eighth Campione spun her trident before leaping at the Heretic God, aiming to impale him.

"Aboard this ship, I am Master and Commander! I will not be beaten by a mere slip of a girl like you!" the Seaman's Devil snarled and, with a swipe of his blade, sent Jean flying off the Dutchman and careening into the ocean.

Thankfully, the passive effect of [Master of the Oceans] allowed Jean to breath while underwater. She dismissed the [Tríaina] and looked around. The underwater realm looked and felt like it was welcoming her. She had always been comfortable in the water, a gym teacher even remarked to her once that the water liked her, but this felt like she was in the embrace of a loved one.

'I have to wait about three minutes until I can use the [Tríaina] again.' Jean thought, 'I'd best…oh hell. Here come the zombies.'

Indeed, a large group of zombies were swimming towards her like a school of the most disgusting fish in the world. They were actually fairly quick in the water thanks to their unrestricted strength.

When humans use their muscles, the body automatically restricts how much power those muscles put out. In times of severe stress or desperation, those limiters can be forcibly removed, a good example being a grandmother lifting a car up off their grandchild. The side effect is that, without a limiter, the tendons and other muscles rip and tear themselves apart.

Zombies, being undead, have no such concerns and are a great deal stronger than a human is. This led to the cardinal rule in dealing with them: do not, under any circumstances, allow them to grab hold of you otherwise you are dead meat.

'They're herding me towards where the Dutchman's cannon are pointed.' Jean thought as she assessed the situation rapidly. She swam backwards to buy herself some time. 'That bastard of a Heretic God thinks he can blow me apart with a broadside from his guns, does he? Let's just see about that…'

Kicking upwards, Jean shot towards the surface, just as she sensed her [Tríaina] become available again.

"Oh Golden Trident, Come forth and serve your Master, in the name of the Waves!" Jean chanted. Evidently, she could speak underwater, as well as breathe underwater. Good to know.

As the [Tríaina] materialised in her hands, Jean had to shiver at the amount of power she could feel running through her body. Being immersed in its own element obviously empowered the [O̱keanó Tríaina] by quite a bit.

Pointing the weapon at the incoming zombies, the redheaded Campione started whirling the trident in a circle in front of her, starting slow, before increasing the spin until a constant current started to flow around in front of her.

Jean drew back the trident and thrust it into the heart of the miniature maelstrom she had created, sending a compact whirlpool spiralling through the sea, sucking the zombie horde into it as it shot past them. Inside the maelstrom, the bodies of the undead sailors were ripped apart.

Allowing herself a satisfied smirk, Jean decided that enough was enough. It was time to invoke the true power of her Authority, [Master of the Oceans].

Up until now, all she had used was a couple of tricks that the [O̱keanó Tríaina] has in its base form, without the added impetus of adding the full weight of [Master of the Oceans] to it.

Fighting against a powerful Heretic God in his own element was no place for holding back, so Jean knew she had to kick her game into the next level.

Raising her trident above her head, Jean started the aria for her Authority.

"My realm is vast and treacherous, yet it holds no fear for me. By my will and power, let the oceans flow unendingly! I am lord of the seas and master of those who dwell within them, so let all know my presence and bow before me!"

With Rebecca

S.S. Pucelle

"Stop the boat!" Rebecca called, "We should be safe here!"

"I'm following Her Majesty's orders!" Marcel replied as he steered the boat over the choppy waves, "There's no way I'm giving her a reason to squash the Order!"

The Witenagemot Hearth Witch hissed in exasperation, before an enormous upsurge of power from where she knew Jean was flared into existence.

She whirled around and gaped as a massive waterspout appeared from nowhere. It was one of the largest she had ever seen, easily surpassing any photographed ones she had ever seen. Floating in midair about halfway up the tornadic funnel, Rebecca could barely make out the figure of her King, clutching her shining trident and seeming to glare down at something, presumably The Flying Dutchman and its Captain.

"Pedal to the metal." She said to Marcel, "If we're going to get back to port to find information for my King, we had better do so as fast as possible."

"With you there." Marcel said, "Damn, that's a massive waterspout! Looks like you were right about the type of Heretic God that has descended."

"My King is rarely wrong about this kind of thing." Rebecca said neutrally. She didn't correct him as to who has created the waterspout, because the longer people remained unaware of Jean's abilities, the better.

'Good luck, Jean…my King.' she thought before she returned to chivvying Marcel to go faster.

Back with Jean

Jean glared down at a very surprised Davy Jones from within her waterspout. She had never felt such power flow both inside and around her. Her [O̱keanó Tríaina] had turned into a sea coral version of itself and her eyes were glowing a brilliant turquoise that positively radiated power.

From where she stood, she could feel every drop of seawater on the planet, every sea creature, every plant…everything. She could even feel the seascapes and coastlines. Two-thirds of the entire planet was covered in water and she had successfully slain the God who claimed such a potent domain as his own.

Really put things in perspective for her.

"So…ye slew a Sea God…" Davy Jones mused, "Do not think that just because ye slew one that ye can slay me, whelp. I am in another league from any other god you have ever encountered."

"Whether I slew a sea god at all or what calibre of deity you are is entirely beside the point, Davy Jones." Jean replied, her voice thrumming with power, "The point is that you shall fall by my hand, as my Mother so decreed."

This made the Heretic God snarl in anger. "Beast of the Deep, monster that has haunted the nightmares of sailors throughout the ages, come forth from thine prison and wreck havoc upon mine enemies!"

The water next to the Dutchman convulsed and then exploded upwards, revealing an enormous white whale, greatly resembling the literary descriptions of Moby-Dick. It was a super-sized version of a sperm whale, pure white in colour, and as its mouth opened to bellow in anger, Jean could see rows of razor sharp teeth lining both jaws.

"Cease your attack!" Jean commanded. Theoretically, as she was using [Master of the Oceans], she should have the ability to command any who call the oceans their home.

The roar that the mighty beast unleashed told the Scottish girl that her ability had no effect whatsoever on the whale.

'What did Rebecca call this class of enemy…a Divine Beast or something, wasn't it?' Jean though as she directed the water at the whale's rear to arrest its tail and drag the enormous thing back under the water, 'I guess that would explain why my [Master of the Oceans] Authority's {Marine Command} ability seems to have no effect on it; the whale's own divinity is actively resisting my commands.'

The struggling animal thrashed and roared as it was gradually returned to beneath the waves, much to the anger of Davy Jones.

"All starboard gunners…fire!" he roared, making Jean's eyes widen.

The legend of The Flying Dutchman had first appeared around about the mid-18th Century, during which time the carronade (a Scottish design, she noted with a flicker of pride) had been the weapon of choice of both merchant vessels and warships. While severely lacking in range compared to modern navel weaponry, the carronade had a range of about 400 yards (just under 366 meters) with a long trajectory.

She was barely fifty yards away from the ship.

The entire side of the Flying Dutchman vanished in a massive cloud of eerie smoke as fifty-six cannonballs were hurtled at her with a great deal of velocity.

With a quick gesture of her trident, a thick wall of water rose up in front of her that absorbed the cannonballs…at least those that hit. The disadvantage of smoothbore cannons was that the cannonballs, by necessity, had to be smaller than the barrel of the cannon, which meant they rattled down the barrel as they were fired, known as windage. The greater the windage, the less accurate the cannon fire was.

Of the 56-gun volley, only about thirty came near Jean. The rest either shot high, shot low or veered off course completely. She hadn't wanted to risk seeing if her waterspout could deflect the cannonballs.

"Stop hiding behind the water and fight!" the Heretic God bellowed.

"This coming from someone who has refused to face me one-on-one for the entire fight? So not convincing." Jean retorted, "Grow a pair and fight me!"

It was at that point that the whale decided to show itself again, leaping out of the water to Jean's right, on the opposite side to The Flying Dutchman.

"Get lost already, you overgrown halibut!" Jean snapped angrily as she shifted her trident to her left hand and shot her now free right hand forward in a throttling gesture at the whale.

A giant hand made of water rose out of the ocean and grabbed the whale, making it look like a giant landed mackerel as it fought the grip of its captor.

Jean gaped in shock and swivelled her head between her still-clutching hand and the giant watery facsimile that restrained her bestial adversary in midair. She glanced at the trident in her hand and thought a command to it.

The [O̱keanó Tríaina] disassembled itself and turned into a very fancy looking crown of coral that landed in her open palm once it was finished reassembling. It was more a diadem than a crown, the red coral that it was made from lined with decorative golden tridents.

With a slow smile, Jean crowned herself with the diadem, which she now called the [O̱keanó Stefáni] (Ocean Crown),using her left hand before turning to grin evilly at Davy Jones.

"Now it starts to become interesting, Davy Jones." she said as she slowly raised her hand at The Flying Dutchman, "Very interesting indeed. If you will not face me willingly, I shall smoke you out of your hidey-hole like the rat that you are."

With a shudder, the ghost ship found itself in the clutches of another giant hand made of water. The rotten timbers creaked dangerously as the entire bulk of the ship was lifted out of the water.

"Stop! What foul sorcery is this?!" Davy Jones bellowed in disbelief.

"The end of your pirating ways, Davy Jones." the redhead replied softly, "I'd advise toy to abandon ship while you can…captain."

Raising her ands before her, Jean drew them back, the giant versions following the motions of her body. Davy Jones' eyes widened as he realised what her plan was.

"Ghost ship and monster…vanish from my sight!" Jean snarled as she slammed her hands together.

Davy Jones abandoned ship just before The Flying Dutchman and the whale collided in a mighty crash of wood and whale flesh, driven by the irresistible might of the two giant hands. The whale was impaled through the back by the bowsprit of the ship, while the aging timbers of the ghost ship shrieked in protest before snapping and crumpling under the strain.

Jean kept up the pressure until both the ship and the whale were nothing but flotsam and jetsam intermixed with flesh, bones and blood from the whale.

Releasing the gruesome hunk of flesh and wood, Jean ignored the splash as it struck the ocean's surface and turned to regard Davy Jones, who looked absolutely furious. He stood atop the water alternating between giving her a death glare and looking helplessly at what had once been his ship.

"MY SHIP!" he bellowed, "YOU DESTROYED MY SHIP!"

"Tch. Way to state the obvious." Jean scoffed as she dismissed the waterspout, falling to the surface of the water and standing atop it as easily as the Seaman's Devil apparently was, "So…no ship to hide behind, no pet to attack like a dog…just you and your zombies, which I can defeat with ease. Your choice, Davy Jones."

"You…!" the Heretic God snarled, "You…insolent wench! I shall show ye the error of your ways in challenging your betters! You will beg for death by the time I am through with thee!"

Drawing his sword and pointing it at her, Davy Jones let out a loud bellow as he started to mutate. His left arm turned into the claw of a crab, his beard became a mass of squid tentacles and he took on the general appearance of a merman minus the fishtail.

'I hate Pirates of the Caribbean!' Jean groaned to herself as the very image of Davy Jones from the second and third films of that trilogy stood before her in all his glory…including a rather foul odour that smelled very much like a fish processing plant.

"Ye wanted to face me one-on-one, ye will get it!" the reduced deity growled, "Ye had better be more careful what ye wish for, wench; ye very well might get it! Ye only have yerself to blame, so no crying when ye die now!"

"Are you going to fight me or just talk me to death?" Jean taunted him. She had watched 300 and one particular scene had risen to the forefront of her mind at this point; the scene where Xerxes was taunted by Leonidas, prompting him to commit his Immortals to an attack. Xerxes had fancied himself a God and had certainly had all the hubris of a God, making him easily manipulated and fooled when arisen to anger, especially by taunting.

Unlike a War God, Davy Jones had no experience in such subtle tactics. With a bellow of rage, he charged forward, his blade drawn back to strike at Jean.

With a couple of easy gestures, the redheaded Campione formed a trident from water, as well as a large shield from ancient times known as an Aspis, used by hoplites from Greece.

Blocking the first cut of the Heretic God's cutlass with her shield, Jean smirked at the shock that rippled over Davy Jones' face before he hurriedly concealed it.

"Not as easy as you thought it would be, eh Davy?" she teased him before using her shield to throw him back, knocking him off balance. She used this opportunity to lunge forwards with her water trident, aiming to wound his leg.

"Not so fast, lass!" the Heretic God roared. He grabbed the trident with his claw hand and used it as leverage to haul himself back up. Jean dismissed that trident and formed a new one in a matter of seconds.

The two opponents circled one another warily, each seeking an opening in the other's stance. Jean, with her shield and trident had the advantage of defence and reach, while Davy Jones had divine strength and a great deal of experience to draw from.

Nigh simultaneously, the two leapt to the attack. Cutlass met trident and prongs met blade repeatedly as the two strove to slay the other. Jean blocked a heavy cut with her trident's shaft before smashing the rim of her shield in the God's face, making him roar in pain and stagger back slightly.

While first blood went to Jean, she didn't have it entirely her own way. A few minutes later, she received a heavy cut to her left leg that reduced her mobility by quite a bit, then a wound on her shield arm.

'Bastard…he's planning on cutting my limbs until I can't move a finger in defence!' she thought angrily.

"I see ye have realised what my plan is, wench." Davy Jones sneered as he feinted at her wounded leg, before shifting his attack to her left arm instead, "I'll bleed ye until ye cannot even twitch a finger. Then my crew will see how the flesh of a usurper tastes!"

"Brilliant plan, with one flaw." Jean said grimly as she blocked his strike before shifting her stance slightly, "Now that I know, rather than merely suspect, what your plan is, I can take steps to counter it."

Jabbing her trident forward into a series of quick thrusts, Jean forced the Seaman's Devil onto the defensive while keeping her wounded limbs out of the line of fire, giving her divine healing time to work its magic on them.

She finally hit the target she was aiming for; the gap between the upper and lower parts of the crab claw hand he had grown. With a roar, she prised the two sections apart and left Davy Jones bellowing in pain as his remaining half-a-claw gushed blood like a fountain.

"Y-You…!" Davy Jones growled.

"Got anything else to say? No? How boring!" Jean taunted him, "I mean, you've said 'you' so many times that I have to wonder if you know any other words…"

Like a bull having a red flag waved in front of it, Davy Jones charged forward in a blind rage, beating on her shield like a man possessed with his blade.

Jean counted the cadence of the blows and then struck at the exact moment that the cutlass was halfway drawn back after a blow. She slid two of her trident's prongs into the small gap between the guard and Davy's Jones' hand, twisted and pushed up, disarming the off-guard Heretic God in an instant.

"What the…?!" he exclaimed as his cutlass flew into the air, "Noooooo!"

"Hell yes!" Jean growled. She used the water beneath her like a trampoline, dissolved her shield and trident and caught the cutlass as it started to fall.

As she landed on the water, she was struck by a barrage of emotions and visions that hit harder than any of Davy Jones' attacks.

*Sailors whispered the name of the feared figure that waited at the bottom of the sea for those unfortunate to drown. The Welsh sailors, invoking a Christian saint for protection, called him 'Davy Jones, the Seaman's Devil', who took the impious to his Locker, which spread throughout the Royal Navy and beyond…*

"What the…?" Jean whispered.

*The Pirate Davy Jones, who had been caught by the Navy of a local nation in the Indian Ocean, bitterly mourned his lack of infamy as he was led to the gallows…*

'This is…his origin…'

*'He's a Jonah, a jinx, a curse upon the sea!' they whispered about him wherever he went. Those called this epithet ignored them all, but railed against their treatment in their hearts…*

"GIVE MY SWORD BACK!" Davy Jones bellowed in a panic. He charged at Jean, who absently stamped a foot on the water, sending a large wave crashing out over him, sending the Pirate Heretic God flying as one final vision crashed over Jean.

*It was hopeless. He had disappointed his God and the sailors around him were being punished for it. Jonah accepted his fate as the sailors threw him over board. He had been ready to suffer death for his refusal to obey God, when a large sea creature swallowed him whole. For three days, he fasted and prayed his thanks…*

"I see…so this is your origin…" Jean said slowly, "The common sailors of Wales are the last to alter your name. The name 'Davy' is a bastardisation of 'David', as in the Patron Saint of Wales, Saint David. It makes sense, considering how severe he was in his asceticism, how they would associate his name with a Seaman's Devil who punished the impious."

"Silence!" the Seaman's Devil roared in a fury, "Speak not of my abhorrent past!"

"The second half of your name, Jones, is a common Anglo-Welsh name even to this day, but it is also a mispronunciation." Jean continued mercilessly, "The original way the name was pronounced was as 'Jonah', the name spoken of in whispers by sailors for generations as a person aboard ship cursed by bad luck. There would have been little effort to correct the pronunciation of another sailor back then, so the name 'Davy Jones' stuck until this day."

Davy Jones gritted his teeth at this recitation.

"There was once a pirate in 1630's sailing the Indian Ocean who went by your name, but he was of little renown. Still, some heard of him and linked your name and his together, cementing your image as a pirate." Jean said with a frown, "However, that is not the whole truth of your origin. The name 'Jonah' stems from the Hebrew Saint, St Jonah, who fled from a command by his God and took a ship in the opposite direction. God caused a storm to spring up around the ship as a punishment, bringing the ship close to sinking."

The redheaded Scot looked pityingly at Davy Jones as she finished her recitation. "Even as the crew fought the storm, Jonah admitted to them that throwing him overboard would end the storm and save the ship. Still the crew fought the storm, unwilling to slay a man, until they admitted defeat and were forced to throw him overboard to save themselves. As the storm faded, Jonah fully expected to die, but God saved him by having a vast sea creature, a fish or whale of some sort, eat him whole, where he spent the next three days praying in thanks to God for his salvation."

"And what of it, wench?" Davy Jones snarled, his sole remaining hand clenched tightly in anger, "You have seen the truth of my origin, but what does it change?"

"Nothing. Nothing whatsoever." Jean replied sadly, "Only understanding of who and what you are. You are a creature created from the legend of a Saint who was punished and thereafter wished to be strict in his punishments and have continued to be seen as a source or end result of bad luck or impiety for hundreds of years. You suffer from that, and it is something to be pitied for. That does nothing to prevent me from acting out my duty as a Campione."

"Good. Let us end this absurdity, wench!" Davy Jones growled. He ripped off the wounded claw on his left hand, which was replaced by another, even larger and nastier claw within seconds. He pointed it at his adversary threateningly.

"It is time." Jean agreed and readied the cutlass she had stolen from the Heretic God himself. Stealing the weapons of gods was turning into a habit, it would seem!

For a moment, neither God nor God Slayer moved, each attempting to read the other to get some sort of advantage over their opponent. The tension in the air was so palpable, you could cut it.

Then, the two figures exploded into motion, racing across the water towards each other, ready to end the fight once and for all.

"DIE!" the Seaman's Devil roared as he drew back his clawed hand and aimed it at Jean's head.

"You first!" Jean bellowed back. She met the claw with his cutlass, cutting the exoskeletal limb in half, right up to the shoulder, where the blade got stuck, lodged in something.

Releasing the sword, Jean slammed a kick into the gut of the Heretic God and ran around him, reaching up to her diadem.

Davy Jones anticipated that she would go around to his other side, so he spun around, already reaching for his sword that was embedded in his own body. He was met by a red coral trident impaling him through his chest and exiting through his back.

"Gaaaahh!" he choked out. Jean, face impassive, reached over with her free hand and took the cutlass from his now nerveless hand's grasp before burying it up to the hilt into his gut.

"AAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGGHHHHH!" he howled in pain. The pain…the pain…oh, how many centuries had passed since he had actually felt pain? Not since his dim memories of Davy Jones the Pirate, at least.

A part of him raged at the indignity of being slain with his own weapon, while another part was…proud. Proud of the fact that his opponent had felt it necessary to make certain that he was killed by any means necessary.

"Haaaahh….haaaah…" he rasped, "Well done, wench. Not many could be ruthless enough to slay me with my own weapon. Ye were right to use it, otherwise I would have had enough left in me to try and drag ye down with me."

"I suspected you would do so." Jean replied, the aura of power fading as she released her control of her Authority, "A pirate will do anything to obtain victory, more so for a Heretic God who is heavily influenced by pirate legends."

"Arrr…'twas a good fight, that it was." the God growled as he started to fade, "Before I go…who was your first God, God Slayer? Who did ye slay to gain such power to overwhelm the Seaman's Devil?"

"The Grecian God of the Sea, Poseidon." Jean said quietly.

"So…I was outmatched from the beginning." he chuckled, "I knew that ye had slain a sea god of some ilk, but one of the most powerful? Ye were using me to learn about your Authority, weren't ye? No, don't say anything. Look yonder; your odd boat has returned."

Jean could see, out of the corner of her eye, that the Pucelle had indeed returned. She could just make out Rebecca and Marcel in the cabin. The Campione still kept a weather eye on Davy Jones as, vanishing or not, he had been doing his utmost to kill her up until half a minute ago.

"Keeping an eye on me, eh?" he snorted with laughter, "Sensible lass. Well now…since ye like me blade so much that ye stole it from me, I suppose the least I can do is give ye it. Keep it safe until I come back and we'll see who the real Master and Commander is around here. Here's a hope that ye aren't jinxed with it like I was…"

With that last blessing of sorts, the Heretic God Davy Jones, originally the Hebrew Saint Jonah, faded out of existence, leaving behind his sword to be absorbed into him, along with some of his essence.

Jean staggered slightly before managing to stand upright. She felt like she had run a marathon with boulders tied to her back!

'Still, the practice with my Authority was good.' she though as she trudged towards the boat, dismissing her trident as she did. Rather surprisingly, she was able to walk on water even without any active use of her Authority.

"JEAN!" Rebecca yelled as the Pucelle pulled up a few meters away from her, "Dear God, get aboard so we can dress your wounds!"

"Yes mother!" Jean called out wearily, "I'll hop right to it! Literally!"

Demonstrating, Jean started mockingly hopping on her good leg, right up to the hull of the boat. Rebecca, was tapping her foot, clearly not amused by her King's antics.

"Campione are weird." Marcel muttered to himself as he saw Jean meekly allow the Hearth Witch to scold her unrelentingly as she bandaged her King's wounds up, once she was aboard.

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Next Chapter: Politics, Knights and Gods

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