Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 162

Chapter 162: Overthrow Tample Meeting!
[The “Beginner’s Heart” Traveler encounters a formidable foe – the [Superior] Thunder Dragon. A battle is imminent.]

[Combat power comparison: Traveler (42) vs. [Superior] Thunder Dragon (45)]

[Your current investment amount: 19,032 Spirit Essence]

[Investment ratio: Traveler vs. [Superior] Thunder Dragon = 9.9:1.01. Minimum investment: 100 Spirit Essence.]

[You have 30 seconds to place your bet…]

——

Freni was taken aback by the staggering investment return ratio 9.9 to 1.01. This nearly tenfold gap indicated the slim odds of the Traveler’s victory. Though the Thunder Dragon’s combat power was only two points higher than the Blood Claw Dragon’s, she knew that such differences were exponential at higher levels.

From her extensive experience, Freni understood that combat power over 40 followed a tiered system:

– 40-43: First Level

– 44-46: Second Level

– 47-49: Third Level

Thus, a 45-point combat power wasn’t merely a slight edge over 43; it marked a significant leap in strength.

The countdown timer ticked closer to zero. Freni’s hands trembled as she made her decision, taking a deep breath before placing her bet.

—

On the outer beaches of the outlying islands, within a secluded cave, Ryan’s eyes fluttered open. He could feel a newfound power coursing through his veins, and a genuine smile spread across his face.

[Spirituality]: 5.3 → 7.8

[Physical Fitness]: 18.44 → 23.03

Compared to before his venture, his growth in both attributes was remarkable, significantly boosting his overall strength.

“Now, even if chaos has erupted on these islands, I can hold my own and maybe even turn the tide to my advantage,” Ryan murmured to himself. He stood up, stretched, and walked out of the cave.

As he emerged, the horizon greeted him with the first light of dawn. Golden-red rays stretched across the sky, illuminating the world with a warm glow. These beams traveled far, casting a brilliant shine upon the city of Santos. In the heart of the city, the sacred scales, a revered artifact symbolizing supreme divine power, gleamed with a radiant, holy light.

Ryan gazed at the breathtaking scene, feeling a sense of renewed purpose and readiness for the challenges ahead.

“Today is the ‘Day of Plenty Stars’…” Ryan murmured, narrowing his eyes. He knew that beneath the surface of tranquility, hidden currents would inevitably rise today.

“According to the intelligence, the ‘Sacred Ceremony’ will be held at noon…”

As he mulled over the implications, his attention was drawn to the entrance of the cave where Freni and Cecilia resided. The barrier dissipated, revealing Freni’s flowing long skirt and her distinctive blue-and-white gradient witch hat.

“Good morning, Captain.”

“Good morning, Mr. Ryan.”

Ryan blinked in surprise as Freni settled next to him, hugging her knees and gazing at the sunrise. There was a melancholic air about her, a stark contrast to her usual lively demeanor.

“Good morning, Captain Witch,” Ryan replied gently, glancing at Cecilia. The wolf knight, clad in silver chain mail and sporting a serious expression, responded with a slight shake of her head, equally puzzled by Freni’s sudden sadness.

Since no answers were forthcoming, Ryan turned his focus to preparing breakfast. He retrieved various utensils from his space ring and set about his task. Soon, the pot was bubbling with hot water and colorful ingredients, filling the air with an alluring aroma.

The enticing scent finally drew Freni from her thoughts, though a shadow of her earlier regret still lingered. She had bet 1,000 spiritual essences on the Traveler, hesitating to invest more due to the daunting odds. The final outcome, an unexpected victory for the Traveler over the [Upper] Thunder Dragon; left her with a bittersweet feeling. Her 1,000 spiritual essences had turned into 9,900, but the missed opportunity to bet more haunted her.

‘If only I had bet 10,000, or even 15,000! The thought of lost potential gains’ this thought gnawed at her.

But as the battle had concluded, there was no changing the past. Her heart ached at the thought of the enormous amount of spiritual essence that had slipped through her fingers.

It hurts so much! Next time, I’ll bet on the Traveler no matter what. I need to have absolute faith in my dear Traveler.

Freni exhaled slowly, gradually shaking off her gloom. The aroma from the pot helped lift her spirits as she walked over to it, taking in the delicious scent. Her mood lightened considerably.

Seeing this, Ryan couldn’t help but smile. He ladled some soup into a bowl, ready to serve it to her, when he suddenly froze. A familiar sensation washed over him, the call of the [Mask of Overturning]!

His expression shifted slightly, but he maintained his composure as he handed Freni her soup. “Enjoy,” he said softly, his mind already racing with thoughts about the mysterious call.

“Thank you, Captain,” Freni replied, her eyes sparkling just a bit more now.

Ryan nodded, the smile never leaving his face. Yet, beneath his calm exterior, he was already planning his next move, ready to respond to the summons of the [Mask of Overturning].

The summoning of the Temple of Overthrow wasn’t like any ordinary call, it was a complex and ethereal spiritual vibration, channeling through the enigmatic [Mask No. 7 of Overturning]. Once the mask’s wearer sensed this profound calling, they would be instantly transported to the Temple itself.

At that moment, Ryan felt an unmistakable tug at his senses, a mysterious summons emanating directly from the mask.

His sudden pause, hands frozen above the simmering pot of soup, drew immediate attention from his companions. Freni, the astute Witch of the group, was quick to voice her concern. “What’s wrong, Ryan?” she inquired, her brow furrowing with worry.

Beside her, Cecilia remained silent, though her eyes mirrored the same concern, fixed intently on him.

“It’s a call from the Overthrow Tample,” Ryan confessed openly, his voice carrying a mix of awe and uncertainty. “I’ve only been affiliated with them for a few days, yet the call has come so soon…”

“Captain, allow me to investigate further.”

In his eyes sparkled a fervent curiosity, perhaps a touch of recklessness. The invitation from the Temple of Overthrow felt both abrupt and urgent, unanticipated to the point of being alarming.

Ryan was still piecing together why the No. 4 Green Tide had extended such an unexpected invite. He pondered if his recent demonstrations of strength and potential had influenced their decision. Reflecting on his short time on the island, a notable incident stood out, the theft of a sacred relic. The only figure linked to that crime was the enigmatic Fantasy Beast Witch, Meloye.

What was her role in all this? And what could her connection be to the Overthrown Palace? The only link Ryan had to Witch Meloye now was a sound transmission conch she’d given him.

“Once I respond to this summoning, I’ll seek answers from Meloye,” he murmured to himself, a plan forming in his mind.

“…A call from the Overturned Palace?” Freni’s tone sharpened, her eyes narrowing slightly. “Be cautious, Ryan.”

He nodded, a subtle gesture of acknowledgment and resolve. “I will be vigilant.”

With a determined breath, Ryan approached the moment of truth. He raised his hand to the mask, pressing his palm against its center, right at the eyebrows, and whispered with solemn intent, “The Overturned Palace.”

The ten-second countdown dwindled rapidly, culminating in a bizarre spiritual disturbance that centered on [Overturned Mask No. 7]. A surge of gray mist enveloped him, and in a blink, he vanished from sight.

Freni’s expression grew increasingly grave as she watched the mysterious gray fog thwart any magical interference.

“Such a high status…” she murmured, her lips pursing in thought. The ramifications of the Overturned Palace’s reach and power made her reconsider her plans to remain on the island and manipulate the unfolding events. It seemed the undercurrents affecting the Kingdom of Saint Tos were far more tumultuous than she had initially thought.

As the gray mist cleared, Ryan’s surroundings slowly came into focus. The scene that greeted him was a dimly lit underground hall, lined with brass chairs flanking a long, orderly table. Seated there were familiar figures, No. 4 Green Tide, No. 5 Cyan River, and No. 6 Blue Mountain. Alongside these known ‘Sons of Overthrow’, an additional figure took their place in seat No. 3, adding another layer of mystery to the unfolding narrative.

As Ryan entered the dimly lit hall, his gaze was drawn to a figure cloaked in mystery. The person seated at position No. 3 wore a flowing white hooded robe paired with a yellow mask, obscuring any hints of their physique or gender. The robe draped loosely, concealing their form effectively.

Upon noticing Ryan, the figure shifted slightly, their pale golden eyes piercing through the mask’s eyeholes to meet his. In a voice both neutral and measured, they introduced themselves, “Newcomer? I’m No. 3, codenamed ‘Yellow Sand.'”

“Number 7, Purple Wind,” Ryan replied, nodding slightly as a purple mask materialized on his face, the true form of [Mask No. 7 Overturning]. It was a rule within the Hall of Overturning, upon entry, all masks reverted to their original state, shedding any disguise they might have worn outside.

The introductions were brief, with no further exchange as Ryan proceeded to his designated seat, awaiting the proceedings with patience.

Beside him, Cyan River, assigned seat No. 6, leaned slightly forward. Her voice was low but clear, “We just concluded our monthly ‘Exchange Meeting’ a few days ago. Yet, here we are again so soon. Is it a special mission?”

Her question seemed more an. informative gesture for Ryan’s benefit than an inquiry.

“You are correct,” responded a soothing, magnetic female voice. The puppet body of “Red Kite,” the leader, had appeared at the head of the table in seat No. 1. “No. 2 is absent, but the rest of us are here. Let’s proceed with the briefing of our special mission.”

A palpable seriousness descended upon the room. The importance of such missions was ingrained in every member, noncompliance could result in severe consequences as per the directives laid out by “Red Kite.”