Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 103

Chapter 103: Scarlet Stage!
On the blood-soaked stage, as the three of wolf-like creatures approached Ryan, they paused in their advance. Instead of lunging, they strategically disbanded and maneuvered into a triangular formation, effectively encircling him. This was a signature tactic of wolf packs, a methodical isolation of their prey.

Ryan’s demeanor remained serene amidst the looming threat. Hovering before his eyes, a digital panel flickered to life, revealing details about his adversaries:

[Gray Light Wolf: A Level One creature, known for its teamwork in packs of three to five. Agile with a proficiency in shadow manipulation. Individually, its strength is modest among its tier, but a trio can pose a substantial threat even to a seasoned Level One professional.]

Murmuring under his breath, “Gray Light Wolves…” Ryan assessed his surroundings. The wolves circled, their silhouettes ghostly under the moon’s glow. He didn’t falter; instead, he charged towards the wolf directly ahead.

Before his transformation into the formidable [Glutton Hunter (First Level)], Ryan would have proceeded with utmost caution. A lone wolf at his back could spell disaster. Now, however, such caution was unnecessary.

Armed with enhanced spiritual and physical prowess, Ryan knew he was beyond such mundane threats. Advancing on a ‘weaker’ adversary was not just strategy; it was a test of his own evolution. His speed was breathtaking, a blur akin to an arrow unleashed from a taut bowstring, closing the gap in an instant.

The wolf, startled by the prey-turned-predator, emitted a burst of shadowy, gray-black spiritual light, attempting to meld into the surrounding darkness. Nighttime was their realm, the shadows cast by the moonlit columns their allies.

Yet, as the wolf’s paw touched the shadow, Ryan’s sword; a dazzling silver-blue arc, swept through the air. A cascade of ice crystals trailed the blade, scattering light blue specks that danced like tiny stars in the night. Beneath this ethereal beauty, a brutal reality unfolded; a gush of blood signaled the end of the wolf, its head severed cleanly.

Expressionless, Ryan pivoted, his greatsword arcing behind him in a fluid motion.

“Bang! Bang!” Two thuds resonated as his blade met its next targets. The first wolf behind him exploded into a mess of blood and shattered bone, its internal organs splattering like grotesque confetti. The second, spared the full force of Ryan’s strike by the body of its packmate, met a slightly less gruesome end, though it too succumbed to the swift, merciless attack.

Within mere seconds, the stage’s first formidable challengers lay defeated, testament to Ryan’s prowess.

“Oh, you truly are formidable, a veritable ‘hero’ among men,” cooed the blood witch Serena, her voice echoing across the stage, her figure unseen yet omnipresent. “No mere ‘church knight’ could hope to rival you~”

In the audience, the focused gaze of two ordinary black knights sharpened momentarily, their attention caught by the moniker the blood witch had used for the swordsman.

“Mr. Knight.”

This title was not lost on them, it suggested that the man wielding the greatsword, while possibly not a direct protector of the Dark Moon Witch, was undoubtedly an ally of significance. He represented yet another barrier in their quest to confront the Dark Moon Witch.

Even though the Blood Witch overshadowed the Dark Moon Witch in importance, the two knights understood their limitations: the Blood Witch was far beyond their ability to contend with. Soon enough, a Black Knight of higher status would likely intervene based on the unfolding events. Their mission was clear: they were to handle the Dark Moon Witch alone.

The prowess displayed by the young swordsman could not be ignored. He had dispatched three “Gray Light Wolves” with only two strikes, a feat unachievable by a mere first-level professional, perhaps not even by a quasi-second-level professional on the cusp of advancement.

This implied a disquieting truth: the swordsman possessed the combat capabilities of a second-level fighter, despite the spiritual energy around him indicating he was only first-level.

This realization was deeply troubling.

Meanwhile, the more seasoned Black Knight among them remained unimpressed. Greatswords were uncommon, yet the feat of slaying three wolves did not stir him; any competent knight could achieve such a task with ease. To him, it was all unremarkable.

“Having vanquished the ‘church knights’ blocking his path, the ‘hero’ now advances to face a second wave of formidable adversaries,” intoned the silky voice of the Blood Witch Selina.

“—The Pope!”

“He is the most venerated leader under God within the church.”

“Empowered by the faith of his followers, the Pope possesses unsurpassed military prowess on the continent.”

“And he is the adversary you are about to confront.”

On stage, Ryan scanned the empty expanse before him, a puzzled frown creasing his brow.

“Where is the ‘Pope’?”

In the “audience seats”, the tension escalated. One of the ordinary black knights, his focus intensifying on assessing Ryan’s capabilities, suddenly felt his seat give way. As the seat plummeted, the event captured everyone’s attention.

The knights attempted to rise, but a sinister, blood-colored glow from the seats ensnared them, rooting them helplessly in place. They could only watch in horror as their comrade was swallowed whole by the blood crystal column.

Then, a moment later, about twenty meters in front of Ryan on the crimson stage, the earth stirred, and the missing knight slowly ascended from below.

“Most intriguing,” commented Caius, the tavern owner watching from the “special audience seats,” his hands coming together in an appreciative clap. “The ‘audience’ themselves stepping into the fray? What a novel twist.”

As the sinister blood-colored halo dimmed, the ordinary black knight rose from his engulfed seat. Beneath his darkened mask, his eyes, cold and calculating fixed intently on Ryan, who stood boldly with his greatsword.

He could not help but think to himself anout how what was promised as a mere spectator’s role had morphed into that of a central performer.

However, the knight was no stranger to deceit. In a world where the currency of trust was worthless between factions such as his and the sea witches, the fact that the Blood Witch had spared their lives upon their initial encounter had been unexpected enough.

Now thrust into the role of an “actor,” this black knight found a silver lining. This unforeseen twist afforded him the direct opportunity to dismantle the support network surrounding the heretical Dark Moon Witch.

With a resonant “clang,” he drew his obsidian sword, its blade gleaming ominously as he pointed it to the ground, a silent declaration of his readiness.

“Playing the part of the ‘Pope’ today?” Ryan’s smile was tinged with derision, his gaze icy as he sized up his new opponent. “Fine, I’ll just have to eliminate you here.”

“Just you?” The Black Knight’s voice, low and gravelly, carried a mix of mockery and challenge. Without waiting for an answer, he lunged forward.

“Boom!”

The blood crystal ground where he had stood fractured into a web of cracks as he closed the distance in a heartbeat. His sword, tracing a lethal semicircle, aimed directly for Ryan’s unprotected neck.

Adorned with a dark, spiritual flame, the knight’s blade left a sinister streak of black in the air. His style was brutally direct, fueled by a solid pre-assessment of Ryan’s capabilities; he held nothing back.

This dark flame, the Black Knight’s signature skill known as [Shadow Fire], clung to his weapon, a viscous, nearly inextinguishable force that could sap vast amounts of spiritual energy from its target.

Ryan was well-prepared, having been briefed on the Black Knights’ notorious abilities by Freni, who had often found herself the prey of these relentless ‘hyenas.’ Through her tales, Ryan had learned enough to avoid the devastating touch of their shadow fires.

As the blade swiped menacingly close, Ryan executed a swift retreat. The tip of the sword missed him by mere millimeters. His eyes, cold and unyielding, caught the flicker of surprise in the Black Knight’s, clearly, he hadn’t anticipated such nimble escape.

What seemed like a simple step back was, in truth, a masterclass in combat distance control. Ryan’s maneuver not only evaded the strike but also positioned him perfectly to reassess and counterattack, ready to turn the hunter into the hunted.

Ryan’s greatsword carved through the air with ferocious intent!

“Buzz!”

As the heavy, silver-blue blade descended, it emitted a harrowing shriek that sliced through the atmosphere, signaling the raw power behind the swing.

The Black Knight, concealed behind his mask, felt a chilling dread. The mere whistle of the sword’s passage was enough to make his skin crawl.

In a desperate reflex, the Black Knight raised his long sword in a defensive stance, bracing for the imminent clash.

“Dang!”

Metal crashed against metal in a deafening cacophony that reverberated throughout the arena. The impact sent the Black Knight reeling backward; he stumbled, retreating over ten paces before collapsing into a half-kneel, his sword driven into the ground to steady his faltering form.

“Tick… tick…”

Blood trickled from his palms, seeping beneath the visor and dripping onto his blade, staining it with vivid streaks of crimson. Gasping for breath, teeth clenched in a grimace of pain and disbelief, he looked up at Ryan, who was now calmly sheathing his sword.