Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 145

Chapter 145: No. 5 Cyan River!
“This is hardly a major concern,” Ryan mused to himself, his mind racing through the implications of Princess Water Drop’s involvement with the Overthrow Palace. The intrigue surrounding the recent theft of the sacred relic was now cast in a starkly different light.

Princess Water Drop, as the eldest progeny of the royal family of Santos, embodied the royal family’s stance and influence. From his very first day with the Overthrow Palace, the mysterious hall master known as “No. 1 Red Kite” had made their mission abundantly clear to Ryan: “Our goal is to dismantle the chains that bind the world.”

What, then, were these metaphorical “chains” in the Kingdom of Santos? Ryan had no doubts, it was the entrenched theocracy.

In an era where deities maneuvered from the shadows, the existence of a theocratic order alongside the monarchy was an anomaly Ryan found increasingly incongruent.

If he were in the shoes of a Santos royal, his thoughts would align similarly. Historically, the delicate balance between theocracy and monarchy might have been maintained due to a lack of opportunity or sufficient power. Now, however, it seemed that a newfound force or pivotal moment had emboldened the royal family to challenge this status quo.

“The Day of the Plenty Star… The Sacred Ritual… The stolen key to activate the Sacred Scales…”

Ryan connected the dots. The identity of the relic thief was becoming unmistakably clear, someone tied to both the royal house of Saint Tos and the Overturned Temple.

Yet, the “cat’s paw prints” discovered at the relic theft scene perplexed him. Was the enigmatic Fantasy Beast Witch Meloye also entangled in these affairs?

Moreover, why had the Libra officials not intervened in Princess Water Drop’s public blessing ceremony held in the heart of their domain? The gaps in his understanding were vast, leaving Ryan with more questions than answers.

As the ceremony concluded and the crowd began to thin, those untouched by the “water drop blessing” gazed with palpable envy at the fortunate recipients. Ryan maneuvered through the dispersing crowd, soon vanishing into a secluded alley.

The alley offered a stark contrast to the bustling streets, cloaked in silence and dim light. Just meters away from the chaos, it felt like a different realm entirely.

Ryan paused, his gaze lifting to the figure emerging from the shadows ahead. A tall, slender young man with a somber expression juggled a knife casually in his hand. Meanwhile, a burly figure materialized behind Ryan, effectively blocking any retreat.

“Hand over the ‘Water Drop,’ and the Black Hand Gang will let you go. Otherwise…”

The threat dripped from the thin man’s lips, cold and menacing.

Ryan turned slightly, peering into the darkness behind his assailant, and responded with a calm, even tone: “Is this how you greet everyone you meet?”

Ryan’s sharp retort made the tall, thin man pause, a sneer curving his lips. “You think I’ll be distracted and give you a chance to strike? That’s a child’s play, I’m far beyond such tricks,” he taunted, his voice dripping with scorn.

However, his smirk barely faded when a horrifying gurgle interrupted him. Blood frothed at his mouth, mingling with fragments of his innards. Trembling, he glanced down to find a hand, clad in stark black wrist armor, thrust through his chest. Crimson blood dripped from the armor’s edge, painting a grim picture of life slipping away.

Behind Ryan, the bulky man sensed the tide turning and spun to flee, but a shadowy spike shot from the darkness, piercing his forehead. His eyes clouded over as life fled his form.

“Of course not,” came a crisp, feminine voice from the shadows. As Ryan turned, a figure stepped into the dim light, a woman in the sleek garb of a knight but not just any knight.

“Night Watch? Black Knight?” Ryan’s eyes narrowed as he sized up the newcomer.

She corrected him with a serious tone, “I am a Night Watcher, but not a Black Knight. The [Black Knight] is a specific variant developed by the Augustus royal lineage, unlike the traditional Night Watcher class known as [Shadow Assassin].”

“I’m No. 5 . It’s a pleasure, No. 7 Purple Wind.”

As she introduced herself, her face momentarily morphed into a mask of verdant shades, then reverted as swiftly as it had appeared.

Ryan scrutinized her, his tone measured: “How did you find me?”

“With ten ‘Holy Water Drops’ distributed and excluding me, No. 4 Green Tide, and No. 5 Cyan River, seven remain scattered. How did you pinpoint my location?”

“My class ability as a Shadow Assassin allows me to mark a target’s shadow, lasting two days. I was actually nearby during your encounter with Green Tide No. 4,” explained, her voice even and revealing nothing but professionalism. “I wasn’t following you; it was merely the range of my marker.”

She spoke with a forthrightness typical of a knight, revealing her capabilities openly, a gesture of goodwill and transparency.

Ryan, though slightly uneasy, considered her words. He had been entirely focused on his battle with Hansal, the “Iris Knight,” unaware of the formidable assassin lurking so close.

After a moment of silence, he finally asked, “So, what brings you to me?”

No. 5’s proposal was straightforward: “Why not team up? If the ‘underground maze’ opens, we could explore it together. It’s safer and more efficient that way.”

Ryan squinted, skeptical. “Why choose to collaborate solely with me? The Tample Master suggested we could seek her out directly.”

“Because you’re the weakest,” No. 5 stated bluntly, not mincing words. “Though it’s impressive how you managed to push back No. 4, in a prolonged conflict, you’d be outmatched. I’d rather partner with someone who still has room to grow, it keeps both of us on our toes.”

“Besides, surely you don’t believe that trust runs deep among everyone in the palace?” No 5’s question lingered in the dim light of the alley, her tone laced with a hint of cynicism.

“Even within the same organization, we hold different ranks and roles. Isn’t it naive to think conflicts of interest won’t eventually tear us apart?” she continued, her words cutting through the evening’s stillness with stark realism.

Ryan was momentarily speechless. In all his dealings, he had never encountered someone so disarmingly forthright. “I appreciate your candor,” he finally said, regaining his composure. “I already have allies, but should you need assistance, you can reach me through the mask. Of course, any help will come with its price.”

His involvement with the Overthrow Tample was strategic, limited to leveraging its remote trading and intelligence capabilities, with no interest in deeper entanglements with its members.

Upon hearing Ryan’s polite refusal, No didn’t press further. “Understood. As an apology for my earlier intrusion,” she said, shifting her stance slightly, “allow me to offer you a tip. Tomorrow, the ‘Day of the Plenty’ will ignite a major upheaval in Santos City, particularly around the Libra Temple headquarters. Stay clear of the area before noon if you wish to avoid trouble.”

With those parting words, No. 5’s form began to dissolve into the shadows, blending seamlessly until she vanished without a trace.

Ryan’s brow furrowed as he scanned the surroundings. Despite his vigilant gaze, No. 5’s disappearance underscored her formidable stealth abilities. This was a clear reminder: in a direct confrontation, merely pinpointing her location would prove challenging.

This revelation was partly due to his own heightened sensory abilities, which, while acute within a three-meter radius, differed significantly from broader spiritual perceptions.

He exhaled softly, a sigh brushing past his lips. The realization of No. 5’s shadow mark had initially unsettled him, but as he inspected it more closely, it dissipated, clearly her doing.

“This doesn’t quite fit the stereotype of her profession…” he mused, shaking his head lightly. The encounter was a stark reminder of the diverse capabilities professionals might wield and the constant vigilance required.