Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 170

Chapter 170: Spear of Blood!
With a swift and brutal motion, the great sword cleaved through the air, splitting No. 4’s body in two. Blood and viscera painted the sky in a grotesque arc, his remnants collapsing to the ground only to reform into black mud, shaping into a form at a distance.

“Too weak…” Ryan’s voice was a blend of disappointment and resolve as he turned to another challenger, a man in a black robe marked with blood patterns. This new foe’s eyes were wide with terror as he beheld the formidable swordsman.

He had intended to reinforce his fellow dark-robed warriors, but the grim scene unfolding before him had turned his resolve to ash. He arrived too late; two of his comrades were already fallen, their strength vastly diminished even as they clawed back from death’s embrace.

The cost of resurrection was steep, leaving the revived nearly defenseless. It was clear now that if he didn’t intervene, all their fates were sealed.

Wordlessly, the desperation of the battle rendered further conversation pointless. Instead, the black-robed man with blood patterns summoned his spiritual energy, which coalesced into a phantom resembling a ghastly specter’s head, an ominous display of power.

Ryan’s eyes narrowed slightly at this. The spiritual force emanating from this adversary was profoundly more potent than any he had faced today. His power seemed to straddle the boundary of a third-tier hero, nearing the upper echelons of their dark art.

“Is this the peak of third-level professionals?” Ryan mused, his expression unreadable.

Just yesterday, such a formidable opponent would have given him pause. Today, however, a new resolve steeled him. Victory was uncertain, but the will to confront it was undeniable.

Without warning, the air between them crackled with tension as the man in the black robe with blood patterns lunged forward, his left hand outstretched in a menacing grasp aimed directly at Ryan. The battle, it seemed, was far from over.

In the blink of an eye, the battlefield morphed drastically as the ground beneath Ryan swirled into a dark abyss of black mud. Sinister tentacles, wrought from the viscous pool, thrashed upwards, ensnaring him with a relentless grip that made escape seem futile. The sucking mud held its prey fast, allowing the whip-like tendrils to lash at him mercilessly.

Despite the grim scene, the man in the black robe adorned with blood patterns continued his assault, unfazed. With his left hand orchestrating the brutal dance of the black mud tentacles, his right hand became a conduit of dark power. Energy swirled and condensed into a sphere, glossy like obsidian yet alive with leaping black arcs, each pulse a harbinger of destruction.

He poised his right hand, aiming the charged orb at the beleaguered figure of Ryan, submerged and seemingly vulnerable beneath the mud’s assault. Yet, as he prepared to unleash his devastating attack, a sudden surge of blood-red light pierced through the chaos of the black tentacles.

A spiral spear, radiant and swift, cleaved through the air towards him. The black-robed man’s heart skipped as alarm took hold, but the spear’s blistering speed left no room for defense or evasion. In desperation, he detonated the energy orb in his hand.

The resulting explosion was thunderous, sending a black spiritual shockwave fanning out. It clashed with the incoming spear, diminishing its force but not halting its deadly trajectory.

With reflexes honed by countless battles, the black-robed man’s hand crystallized into a black crystal shield, meeting the weakened spear with a defiant grasp. The collision produced a sharp “Crack!” as the spear fragmented into a cloud of blood-red particles. Yet victory was short-lived, his expression darkened as a spear tip pierced his crystallized palm.

Gritting his teeth, he yanked the fragment free with his other hand. Logic dictated that the black mud should swiftly heal his wound, but to his horror, blood continued to flow unabated, a relentless stream that defied his magical interventions.

“There’s something cursed about that bloody spear,” he realized, a chill of fear threading through his thoughts.

Meanwhile, the black mud tentacles, now unguided, dissipated as quickly as they had appeared. Ryan stood amidst the remains of the dark swamp, a subtle smile playing on his lips, his eyes twinkling with a mix of mirth and menace.

The black-robed man had underestimated his opponent. Ryan’s “Spear of Blood” was not merely a weapon but a bane even to beings far mightier than himself, capable of breaching defenses that even superior monsters could not withstand. The persistent bleeding was a testament to its cursed nature, a dire effect that could jeopardize even the mightiest of foes.

Even in its dormant state, the [Holy Relic·Embrace of Blood] bore the indelible mark of its origins, a creation from the era of the former deity known as the King of Blood. Its power was undiminished by the black mud’s strange properties, and the relentless bleeding it induced was proof of its lofty pedigree.

The ongoing loss of blood drained the color from the man in the black robe adorned with blood patterns, his skin growing ashen and his lips pale. Nearby, Ryan seemed unfazed, almost refreshed by the ordeal. The tentacles’ attempts at constriction felt more like a gentle massage, thanks to his formidable armor.

The [Dragon Helmet] and [Ceratops Armor] he wore provided a cumulative damage reduction of a staggering 40%. To him, each strike from the black mud was trivial, barely registering as more than a light tickle. The corrosive effects of the black spirituality? Mere child’s play against the defense offered by mid-level rare items.

Yet, the energy sphere previously wielded by his adversary had been a genuine threat, a reminder that not all challenges were so easily brushed aside.

Noticing the fearful expression on his opponent’s face, Ryan couldn’t help but taunt, his voice a deep rumble of amusement, “You are much weaker than I thought.”

Silence was the only response from the black-robed man, who stole a desperate glance towards another battle scene. His compatriot, donned in similar dark attire but facing a yellow-masked foe, was also faring poorly. Anxiety flickered across his features.

“You dare to be distracted while fighting me?” Ryan’s voice boomed, startling his opponent as he suddenly appeared beside him, his large sword poised menacingly overhead.

The blade sliced through the air, its path marked by a howling wind and the visible distortion of the space around it. A potent sense of mortality gripped the black-robed man, his face contorting in terror as he scrambled to respond. From deep within, he summoned a violent surge of black spiritual energy, creating a protective shock wave and materializing vortex-like shields around him.

All his defenses snapped into place just as the sword descended.

“Crack!”

The impact was earth-shattering. Ryan’s presence remained unshaken by the black spiritual wave, a faint bloody aura glimmering across his form, enhancing his ordinary strike into one that bore the full weight of accumulated power.

The howl of the wind grew ever more desolate as the greatsword tore through the spiritual shields like paper. The man in the black robe watched in horror as the blade came crashing down upon him.

“Boom!”

The ground beneath them erupted, the soil upheaving in a spray of dirt and debris, exposing the layers of harder earth and stone beneath. The tremor that followed felt akin to a localized earthquake, a testament to the devastating force behind Ryan’s attack. The air was thick with dust and the echo of power, marking the clash of titanic forces in this desolate battleground.

Ryan lowered his gaze to the man in the black robe adorned with blood patterns, whose hands lay shattered like fragments of dark obsidian scattered around the hilt of the greatsword. The soil around them had been upheaved into a vast depression, testament to the ferocity of their clash.

The man’s exposed skin was fissured and streaked with blood, giving him an appearance of gruesome defeat as blood seeped from his wounds, painting him in a macabre tableau.

Suddenly, a guttural roar erupted from him. His body convulsed violently as if possessed, and a surge of dark spiritual energy exploded outward. His flesh began to warp grotesquely, swelling and expanding into an ominous form. In moments, his left side morphed into a massive, serpentine creature of nightmares, complete with glossy scarlet eyes and a flickering tongue that tasted the air with malice.

Ryan stepped back, his sword ready, eyes narrowed at the monstrous transformation. “What in the abyss is this abomination?” he muttered, tension coiling within him like a spring.

The transformed man’s eyes glowed red as his new form, devoid of any human reason, only radiated malevolence and the desire to destroy. With a deafening roar, the giant snake head lunged at Ryan, its path tearing through the earth.

Ryan exhaled softly, his stance grounded and calm, as he began to channel energy into his blade. The black mud snake bore down on him with the unstoppable force of a cataclysmic storm.

Meanwhile, in the distance, black-robed men No. 1 and No. 2 prepared their own dark gambit, their hands conjuring orbs of destructive energy aimed at Ryan’s back. But their efforts were abruptly thwarted as shadowy daggers, connected by thin black lines, pierced through their palms, traced back to Cyan River’s deft hands.

Behind Cyan River, another adversary collapsed into a puddle of black mud, only to reform weakly far away. It was clear she had been far from idle, dispatching one of their number with lethal precision.

At the same time, her allies, Green Tide and Blue Mountain, grappled with another of the black-robed figures. Their battle was fierce and unresolved, but their main goal was achieved: they kept their foes engaged and away from Ryan.

Cyan River’s piercing gaze swept over to the thwarted assailants, her expression sharp and unyielding. Her look alone was a clear warning: any attempt at subterfuge under her watch was doomed to failure.

Ryan, ever vigilant, had sensed the danger from behind even before Cyan River intervened. He was aware of every movement on the battlefield, but Cyan River’s swift handling of the threat impressed him.

Turning his head slightly towards Cyan River while still facing the monstrous adversary before him, Ryan acknowledged her prowess with a nod. “You’re quite capable,” he affirmed, his voice carrying a note of respect and gratitude. As the serpent-form attacker surged forward, Ryan steadied himself, prepared for the continuing onslaught, his allies secure in their positions, ready to face whatever chaos ensued next.