Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 171

Chapter 171: Labyrinth’s Broken Seal!
Ryan couldn’t help but smile inwardly as he faced the colossal black mud snake, now just a mere meter away. Its stench was palpable, the slimy surface of the mud undulating grotesquely as it closed in for an attack.

In an instant, the snake’s massive jaws snapped forward, aiming to crush him, but Ryan was ready. A faint, blood-hued aura enveloped him, signaling the activation of his [Special sword skill: Attack Collision].

As the mud snake made contact, the reactive force of the skill stopped its momentum dead. The creature’s head recoiled violently, flinging upwards, exposing the vulnerable figure of the man in the black robe with blood patterns behind it.

Ryan’s body tensed as he charged his next move. “Thump thump thump!” The sound of his heartbeats seemed to sync with the charging stages of his attack, his sword aglow with a fierce, white spiritual light that resembled flames licking the blade.

“Die!” Ryan’s shout echoed across the battlefield as he brought his sword down with devastating force.

Caught in a moment of crazed stiffness, the black-robed man had no chance to react. Ryan’s blade struck true, cleaving through head and torso with a gruesome squelch reminiscent of a watermelon being split open. As the sword halted mere centimeters from the earth, the body before him disintegrated, leaving nothing but a grotesque stain where the man once stood.

The severed snake, its connection to its host severed, roared in futile rage before dissolving into inert clumps of mud that pattered to the ground.

Ryan flicked his wrist, flinging off remnants of mud and blood from his blade, then turned his attention to another part of the battlefield where Yellow Sand and her adversary had just concluded their own clash.

Behind Yellow Sand, a semicircle of glistening ice crystals hovered ominously. Her foe, another black-robed figure, was encapsulated in a massive block of ice, his transformation into a mud snake cruelly arrested by the freezing spell.

The air around the ice shimmered with cold, a chill that reached even Ryan, observing from a distance. “Such domineering ice magic power,” he remarked appreciatively, “that’s Yellow Sand’s true strength.”

Yellow Sand, her eyes a striking blue, turned to face Purple Wind and then floated effortlessly over to Ryan. “I was right, you are very strong,” she said, her voice carrying a tone of respect.

“Thank you for the compliment, you too,” Ryan responded with a grin. His gaze then shifted to the black-robed man who had managed to reconstitute himself some distance away. The man’s aura was diminished, his figure gaunt and feeble compared to before.

Ryan contemplated Yellow Sand’s approach, immobilization. Indeed, if their foes could resurrect, then binding them in ice or sealing their movements was the optimal strategy. No matter how potent their recovery, it would be useless if they couldn’t move.

Sword dragging slightly along the ground, Ryan advanced toward the newly resurrected, weakened adversary. The battle was not over, but the tide had turned distinctly in their favor.

In the spectral gloom of the haunted chamber, even the formidable Black Robe Man adorned with Blood Patterns, in his zenith of power, had proven no match for the unyielding force they faced. Now, weakened by the tribulations of resurrection, he seemed even less capable of defiance.

“If they refuse to perish with a single blow, then we shall strike them down repeatedly,” Ryan mused, skepticism lacing his voice. He harbored doubts about the endless resurgence these adversaries claimed to possess.

But as he advanced, a chorus of piercing, ghastly howls erupted. The air turned thick with their despair.

Each of the black-robed figures, including the freshly risen Blood Patterned Man, fell to their knees in unison, quaking violently. They ignored the impending blows, surrendering to some unseen agony. As if compelled by a dark force, their forms began to disintegrate, waxen figures melting under an unseen sun, dissolving into viscous pools of shadow that slithered towards a distant bone altar.

The man with the blood patterns, stronger yet still bound by the same cruel fate, dissolved more slowly. Kneeling, trembling, his voice quivered with desperation, “My lord, grant me another chance, I—”

His plea was cut short, his form collapsing into the black ooze before he could bargain for mercy. Nearby, another such figure encased in ice shared the same fate, though restrained by the icy seal, he thrashed violently, unable to join the macabre procession towards the altar.

Ryan’s gaze shifted, fixating on a sinister figure suspended upon a dark, inverted cross at the center of the bone altar. The merging sludge from the black-robed acolytes coalesced around the base of this ominous cross.

Thunderous heartbeats echoed through the chamber, resonating like war drums. Slowly, the figure on the cross lifted a drooping head, revealing eyes as fathomless and dark as a starless night.

“You all exhibit remarkable strength,” a hoarse voice croaked from the depths of the shadow, amusement tinged with disdain in its tone. “These minions are trifling, yet they possess some merit… The games end now. I anticipate a most thrilling performance henceforth.”

With a sinister chuckle, the voice’s pronouncement was followed by a sharp crack. A terrifying fissure spread across the chamber’s floor, the seal of the underground labyrinth finally succumbing.

The earth convulsed, and from the entrance of the now unsealed maze, a horrifying force erupted, drawing in everything within several kilometers. The nearest skeletal altar was swiftly consumed, and Ryan, along with others, despite their valiant efforts and deployed powers, found their resistance futile against the overwhelming pull.

Simultaneously, above ground, the scenario shifted dramatically.

In the Holy Duel Arena, the First Judge and the Pure White Female Knight paused their clash as the ground beneath them trembled. A seismic wave swept across the entire island of Santos, toppling buildings and eliciting screams of terror from the populace.

From the island’s heart, a colossal mountain ascended slowly, altering the landscape dramatically.

In the city of Saint Tos, pirates and adventurers, who had infiltrated under the guise of night, now watched with gleeful anticipation. The legends were true, the seal of the labyrinth was broken. What lay within monsters of legend and magical flora now awaited them, their hearts pounding with the thrill of the imminent adventure.

The earth shook violently, its tremors unearthing an ancient enigma long hidden beneath the surface. As the dust settled, a striking structure slowly emerged: a towering, four-sided pyramid, each face adorned with a swirling vortex gate, rotating solemnly in the stark daylight.

This was the underground maze, a legendary labyrinth that had slept undisturbed until the seismic activity disclosed its secrets. On the distant outlying island, the air thickened with a palpable increase in spiritual energy. If once the free spiritual concentration hovered around 0.1, it had now surged to an ominous 0.3 and continued climbing until it plateaued at 0.5. Such a spike was alarming; the enriched spiritual air was a double-edged sword.

In a world where the ambient spiritual forces intensified, the line between beast and man blurred. Creatures of the sea, once benign, morphed into monstrous forms, dragging themselves onto the shores with new, dreadful purposes. For humans, the effects were detrimental, their bodies ill-equipped for such potent spiritual invasions, often resulting in grotesque deformations over time.

Yet, for the ambitious souls among the island’s inhabitants, the dangers lurking in the maze’s depths were mere footnotes in their quest for glory and riches.

No sooner had the labyrinth’s gates opened than a frenzy ensued. Adventurers, mercenaries, and treasure seekers from all corners of the Kingdom of Santos dashed toward the enigma, each driven by dreams of wealth and power.

Amidst this chaos, two sanctuaries stood unshaken: the regal Palace of Santos and the venerable main hall of the Libra Church, flanking the Holy Duel Arena. It was here that Pope Libra and Princess Water Drop shared a silent, knowing glance across the expanse, a mutual acknowledgment of the impending catastrophe.

Their silent communion was brief. With the seal of the Labyrinth broken, the petty squabbles that had once seemed so crucial now faded into insignificance. They turned away, their departure a silent signal to all who watched: the true battle was about to begin.

The aftermath of their exit was not quiet for long. A resounding spiritual call echoed across the island, a clarion call to arms from Princess Ariel herself, known as Water Drop. Her voice, both stern and inspiring, reached every corner of the island:

“People of the outlying islands, heed this decree! The seal of the underground maze has shattered, and a grave threat looms over us all. I, Princess Ariel of the royal family of Santos, call upon every able man and woman to venture into the labyrinth’s depths and slay the monsters that stir within. Present their heads at Santos Palace, and you shall be rewarded handsomely. The treasury opens its doors to you, offering potions, rare artifacts, and arcane knowledge. Verify these treasures with your own eyes; their authenticity is guaranteed by the royal house itself.”

Her announcement stirred the hearts of many, inciting courage and determination. Even those who had hesitated found themselves drawn to the promise of untold treasures. As adventurers prepared to descend into the abyss, the air was thick with anticipation and the echo of clashing steel, Santos was about to face its greatest challenge yet.