Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 181

Chapter 181: Frost Field!
 

The existence of a “Witch Club Branch” on the remote island was a known fact, yet the information Ryan had gleaned from Meloye, the Fantasy Beast Witch, suggested no other witches should be present. Witches were rare, their powers marked and notable. If another existed on the island, she would have surely been discovered, unless she had cleverly hidden her magic.

Ryan’s thoughts raced, recalling Meloye’s words from their last conversation: “I’ve only been overseeing this branch for two months. My predecessor vanished without a trace, cutting off many of our intelligence links.”

Could the Ice Witch be tied to the former branch leader, or could she even be the leader herself, now operating in the shadows?

With a sigh, Ryan shook off these ponderings and settled onto the ground, crossing his legs and centering his thoughts on more immediate concerns.

The “Gluttony Joy” of the [Gluttonous Hunter] and the [Pirates]’ “Resistance to Rules” weighed heavily on him, the need to enhance his [spirituality] pressing. Mastering the “True Charge Slash” demanded a high level of spiritual power, and Ryan felt an urgent pull to strengthen this aspect of his being.

To advance spiritually, he had to rise in his mystical arts, performing a “Pleasure Ritual” a spectacle that must garner the favor of over a hundred onlookers through an act of profound desire and thrill.

In theory, the “Gluttony Joy” and the “Resistance to Rules” could work hand in hand, both feeding off the thrill of challenging established norms. Whether through a daring public spectacle or a direct confrontation, these acts could capture public imagination if done for a just cause.

But the power Ryan aimed to challenge was formidable, entrenched with authority and might. The stakes were high, and the risk of failure loomed large.

As chaos stirred the island above with the unsealing of the Labyrinth, Ryan pondered the possibility of an audacious disguise to provoke a confrontation with the powerful Libra Holy Church, sparking a spectacle that might satisfy both his ritualistic and rebellious needs.

In the shadowy depths of the underground maze’s eighth floor, Ryan found himself grappling with the challenges of advancing in rank among the [Pirates].

“I really don’t know how other [Pirates] managed to level up so quickly,” he mused internally, a mix of frustration and awe swirling within.

With a shake of his head, Ryan decided to set his concerns aside for the time being. “Focus on the mission,” he reminded himself, closing his eyes to dive into a meditative state.

This wasn’t just idle time for Ryan; it was a strategic pause. Meditation deepened his mastery of the [Storm Sword Skill] and heightened his senses to the environment. Although his spiritual skills lagged, his robust physique compensated with an enhanced sixth sense.

Perception linked to [Physique] was limited in range but precise in detail. Meditation allowed him to broaden this sensory field, albeit at the cost of some accuracy. It was a trade-off: perfect for close quarters combat but less effective for broader awareness and exploration.

As he expanded his sensory perimeter, Ryan could feel the presence and condition of his teammates. Blue Mountain was deep in sleep, his snoring growing louder, a testament to his usual reliance on others for security during rest. In contrast, Green Tide slept lightly, ready to wake at the slightest disturbance, a sign of a seasoned warrior always on alert.

Yellow Sand, meanwhile, had encased herself in a sphere of ice crystals, shielding her from any prying senses. Cyan River was equally elusive; Ryan could only detect her vague location but nothing more specific about her condition or actions.

After checking on his team, Ryan refocused, dividing his attention between honing his sword skills and maintaining a vigilant watch.

Time seemed to stretch endlessly as the team stood guard. Surprisingly, more than twenty hours passed without any sign of an enemy on the eighth floor. The eerie silence of the vast hall didn’t bring relief but heightened anxiety among them.

“It’s the calm before the storm,” Ryan thought grimly. The tension of waiting for an enemy attack was sometimes worse than the fight itself. The longer the quiet lasted, the more catastrophic the potential onslaught.

Despite the unnerving quiet, the team couldn’t risk abandoning their post. The threat of the “Hanged Man” possibly breaching the stone door to the ninth floor loomed over them, and failure of the mission was not an option.

After a necessary period of rest and rotation, the refreshed warriors of the Overthrow Temple regrouped, rallying in front of the stone gate to continue their vigilant watch. Together, they prepared, knowing well that whatever was to come, they faced it united.

As soon as Ryan felt the shift in the air, his eyes snapped open. Nearby, Yellow Sand sensed the same change and rose to her feet, her aura palpable as streams of intense spiritual and magical power radiated from her, transforming the hall into a shimmering landscape of ice crystals.

During their vigil, the team had been far from idle. Yellow Sand had strategically prepared this environment by setting up a “Frost Field,” a specialized magic circle created through several anchor points she had laid out earlier. This magic not only boosted her combat abilities but also protected her allies. She had marked Ryan and the others in advance, ensuring the biting cold of the field would not affect them.

The sudden manifestation of the “Frost Field” drew immediate reactions from Blue Mountain, Cyan River, and Green Tide. Though they hadn’t detected the initial threat, they were quick to adopt combat positions, their instincts finely honed from their time in the Overthrow Temple.

Ryan gripped the hilt of his greatsword and fixed his gaze on the distant passage, the sole access point to the upper levels of the maze. Silence hung heavy until a single drop of sticky black liquid oozed from the passage’s edge, splattering on the ground with a sharp “click.” This small noise set off a terrifying cascade, as waves of black mud surged through the passage and began to seep from the ceiling, encroaching into the hall.

Yellow Sand reacted instantly, her eyes narrowing as she knelt and pressed a hand against the icy floor. The “Frost Field” blazed to life, casting a radiant glow that halted the advance of the black mud right at the stone gate.

The mud, thwarted in its onslaught, coalesced into a monstrous, writhing mass, roaring as it clashed against the magical barriers of the ice. The battlefield was starkly divided, with both forces momentarily stalemated, each controlling half the hall.

As the mud stilled, it transformed into a dense black swamp cradling a sinister skeleton altar at its heart. Affixed to an inverted cross, the “Hanged Man” slowly raised his head. His blood-red eyes, veiled by tangled strands of hair, fixed on Ryan and Yellow Sand with chilling intensity.

“You still have time to leave now…” his voice rumbled through the hall, low and threatening.

Silence met his warning. Ryan and his team held their ground resolutely. With just one hour left until the mission’s deadline, retreating wasn’t an option, not even in the face of such palpable danger.

The “Hanged Man” seemed unfazed by their silence, perhaps having anticipated their resolve. From the skeleton altar, ink-black veins pulsed outward, and a horde of monstrous figures began to rise from the mire. These creatures, twisted and dog-like, growled menacingly as they advanced.

The clash erupted with the sound of “Bang bang…” as the creatures breached the boundary of the “Frost Field.” Instantly, their forms were sheathed in a crisp layer of frost, the biting cold sapping their speed and clouding their ferocious advance.

As Ryan stood in the foreground, Green Tide and Blue Mountain exchanged a quick glance, a silent agreement passing between them. With a sudden burst of energy, they charged forward together, determined to take the lead in the fight.

As the other two melee experts in the team, it was their unspoken duty to step in and handle the frontline battle whenever Ryan was occupied elsewhere.

The air filled with the resonant clang of metal as Blue Mountain, a formidable figure, struck his shield with his mace while sprinting forward. The sound created a kind of spiritual melody that seemed to disrupt the minds of their enemies. Influenced by this melody, a deformed black dog, previously snarling at the edges, lost control and lunged directly at Blue Mountain.

This tactic was Blue Mountain’s special skill as a Shield Knight, a notable branch from the Soldier Path. His skill, known as [Taunt], not only enhanced his resistance to physical attacks and knockbacks but also compelled nearby enemies to focus their attacks solely on him for the duration of the skill.

The profession of a Shield Knight, like many others, was a product of time, evolving and branching off the main Soldier Path into various specialties that only a handful understood and fewer still mastered. This lineage of skills shaped the unique fighting styles of various warrior families, each with their distinctive flair.

However, those tales were relics of a bygone era.