Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 225

Chapter 225: Storm Swordsmanship- Splitting the Gods!
Exiting the Golden Hammer Blacksmith Shop, Ryan made his way back to the ship that had brought him here, the [Goddess of Victory], now rechristened as the [Black Rose]. As he stepped aboard, the vessel, now fully resupplied, began its graceful departure under the cloak of moonlight.

Standing alone on the stern deck, Ryan gazed at the island receding into the distance. His brief stay had been packed with life-changing encounters, from the Overthrow Palace to the enigmatic Libra Holy Religion, the twisting paths of the Underground Labyrinth, the haunting Remains of the Gods, to the secretive Ancient God Society. Each memory was a vivid chapter of his journey, but it was the fiery sacrifice of Miranra, the Fire Witch, that lingered longest in his mind. Her transformation into a sky of red butterflies had saved the city of Santos from certain doom.

Lost in his reverie, Ryan’s eyes caught a poignant sight at the port, a princess with eyes as deep and soothing as the ocean, a small black cat perched on her shoulder, both gazing at him, bidding farewell with a gentle wave.

Beside the Water Drop Princess stood a girl in a yellow mask. She watched silently as the ship sailed away, the figure of Ryan at the stern growing smaller with distance. Her lips pursed softly, a whisper carried away by the wind:

“We will meet again.”

—

Under the celestial glow of moonlight, the sea transformed into a canvas of shimmering silver, each wave glistening as if sprinkled with starlight.

A crisp sea breeze danced across the water, playfully tossing the waves into sparkling crests that mirrored the vast, starlit sky above.

From the midst of this nocturnal ballet emerged a majestic warship, the [Black Rose], slicing through the ocean currents with breathtaking velocity. It was a spectacle of engineering marvel, combining raw power with elegant finesse.

At the prow stood Ryan, a determined figure against the expansive ocean. He lowered the compass from his gaze, a subtle nod conveying his approval. The [Black Rose] was not just a ship; it was a pinnacle of naval architecture, boasting superior performance and operational ease.

Unlike traditional vessels, the [Black Rose] thrived on spiritual energy, obviating the need for a bustling crew. It required merely a set course and desired speed programmed from the captain’s quarters to navigate autonomously. This innovative spirit-driven system even possessed rudimentary decision-making capabilities, able to circumvent obstacles autonomously.

However, this feature, humorously likened to “artificial mental retardation,” was not infallible. Ideally, a vigilant navigator should steer to ensure stability. At present, though, the crew; Ryan, Freni, and Cecilia were still mastering the intricacies of their roles, leaving the [Black Rose] to chart its own path.

“Should we collide, the Black Rose’s robust hull will likely pose a greater threat to anything in its path than vice versa,” Ryan mused. The ship cruised steadily at 50 knots, a pace that would see them reach Thundera in merely three days, a journey that would take lesser vessels up to half a month.

Indeed, the [Black Rose] was akin to a supercar of the seas.

Above deck, Freni stood at the entrance of the captain’s room, her gaze lost in the horizon, pondering deep thoughts. Cecilia lingered quietly behind her, while inside, the Purple Flame Dragon King, Sophilia, lay curled up, a slumbering infant dragon.

This baby dragon’s responsibilities were simple: eat, sleep, and grow, a cycle facilitated by the nutrient-rich eggshell from which it had hatched. Yet, those nutrients would soon deplete, necessitating a more potent source of energy to sustain its astonishing growth.

Freni’s concern was palpable. Unversed in rearing even human infants, she now faced the daunting task of nurturing a dragon. What does one feed a baby dragon? Milk? Fruit? Meat? The dilemma was frustratingly complex.

Ryan, releasing a contemplative sigh, settled onto the deck with a mystical artifact in hand; the azure, octahedral “Storm Sword Skill Inheritance Crystal.” It was time to advance his mastery of the [Storm Sword Technique – Divide the Sea].

He placed the crystal against his forehead, and as spiritual energy coursed through it, reality blurred into a vision. The sounds of roaring waves filled his ears before his surroundings snapped back into focus.

Before him, the familiar deck of the Black Rose stretched out, and there, amidst a towering wave, stood a colossal figure wielding a greatsword. Looming beyond, a monstrous sea creature emerged, its tentacles rigid like the arms of death, exuding an aura of dread.

“What the hell is this?” Ryan muttered, his brow furrowed in consternation.

Even the imposing black mud python, a monster known for its fearsome appearance, paled in comparison to the creature that now loomed before Ryan.

“Behold the Sea Monster – Krakendes,” the deep, resonant voice of the towering figure before him filled the air, his tone both instructing and introspective. “A terror of the deep known to conjure massive waves and lay waste to entire islands…”

In a dramatic display of its might, a colossal tentacle surged upward from the tumultuous sea, casting a shadow larger than the ship itself. Its immense girth promised destruction, threatening to capsize the vessel and consign all aboard to a watery grave.

At that critical moment, the figure reacted with a warrior’s grace.

With a practiced ease, he hoisted his greatsword onto his shoulder, channeling a surge of powerful spiritual energy that seemed to command the very skies. A radiant force expanded, blanketing a kilometer in all directions, rendering the chaos of the ocean still, as if time itself had halted around them.

Ryan watched, awestruck by the spectacle.

What level of mastery was required to wield such power? Certainly beyond Level 4, was this the stuff of Level 5 legends, or perhaps even higher?

Under Ryan’s intent gaze, the spiritual essence within the greatsword pulsed vigorously, signaling the onset of an intricate sequence of charged attacks. The sword’s bearer executed the three preparatory stages seamlessly, culminating in a brilliant eruption of energy, the true charge, a masterful display far surpassing Ryan’s own proficiency in the “Storm Swordsmanship.”

If it were Ryan, such an exertion would mark the zenith of his ability, but the figure before him was far from finished.

With a powerful cry, the protective sphere began to contract. As it diminished, the sea and air caught in its wake snapped back to reality, resuming their natural flow, until the sphere condensed entirely onto the surface of the mighty warrior, enveloping him in an ethereal, blue-green flame.

The massive tentacle descended with the force of a thousand storms, but the warrior was ready. As it made contact, a blinding burst of green light exploded from the point of impact.

The greatsword, now fully charged and radiating a fierce energy, swung through the air. A luminous green blade, over a hundred meters in length, extended from its edge, cleaving the monstrous appendage in two with unyielding force. The severed pieces crashed into the ocean, sending colossal waves cascading to the sides.

The spectral blade continued its relentless advance, growing to an astonishing thousand meters. It bisected the hidden bulk of Krakendes along with the towering wave it rode, splitting both asunder.

The ocean heaved as the remnants of the upheaval settled, and the figure stood unchallenged, his sword now a silent testament to his prowess.

“This is the third technique of Storm Swordsmanship – [Splitting the Gods]. Do you grasp its essence?” His voice, calm and authoritative, echoed in the charged air.

Ryan’s vision began to recede, the world of his vision blurring as he was pulled back to reality.

He exhaled deeply, his eyes wide with awe and understanding.

Such power, such mastery, undeniable and supreme.

“[Storm Sword Skill – God Splitting]… I’m genuinely looking forward to mastering it,” Ryan mused, a spark of anticipation igniting within him as the initial shock in his eyes gave way to an eager glint.

With a swift motion, he turned, drawing his new sword with a flourish before positioning it confidently over his shoulder. He was ready to test his limits.

The rhythmic thumping of his heart seemed to sync with the stages of the sword’s charging: Thump thump thump! Each beat marked a significant reduction in the time required for each phase. What initially took three seconds now only took 1.5, and with the full mastery of the [Concentration Technique], this duration had halved yet again to a mere 0.75 seconds.

Following the three rapid stages, the true charging commenced, condensing the spiritual and physical energies into a sphere teetering on the brink of explosive force.

Ryan’s face set into a mask of concentration, aware of the critical nature of the moment. The inherited memories from the “Crystal of Inheritance” whispered that the key to advancing from “Dividing the Sea” to “Splitting Gods” lay in relentless compression of this burgeoning power sphere within him.

One second… Two seconds… Three… As the seconds stretched on, tiny rivulets of blood began to emerge along Ryan’s skin, a stark indicator of the internal pressures mounting dangerously high. If he didn’t release the energy soon, his physical form might give way before the technique was ready.

Yet, even with his intense effort, the level of compression required to unleash “God Splitting” remained frustratingly out of reach. This was merely the first of several daunting steps required to master the technique.

With a weary sigh, Ryan allowed the spiritual energy to dissipate, casting his gaze to the crescent moon that hung low in the sky. There was a lack of disappointment in his expression, more a resignation to the current limits of his abilities. From witnessing the powerful figure in his inherited visions exerting himself to wield this sword skill, Ryan had sensed that his current spiritual and physical capacities might fall short.

His trial confirmed it. Achieving the minimum compression standard for “God Splitting” would require a [Spirituality] of at least 100, matched by a nearly equivalent [Physical Fitness]. Such levels were daunting, likely beyond what a human could achieve even at a fifth-level legendary status. This skill, it seemed, set a threshold that even many legends could not surpass due to the extreme physical demands.