Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 245

Chapter 245: The Fourth Seat!
 

On the other side, the Black Knight wielded a single-handed knight’s sword, cutting through the air with precision. Ryan wasn’t entirely familiar with the knight’s style, but it became clear that the Black Knight favored stealth and deception, striking from the shadows rather than meeting his opponent head-on. In a direct confrontation, he lacked Durland’s finesse in swordsmanship. But what the Black Knight lacked in raw skill, he made up for with an arsenal of secret techniques.

Ryan could see that every time the Black Knight found himself cornered, he would rely on these special abilities to tip the scales in his favor. Already, in the brief span of two minutes, Ryan had counted five different techniques: shadow control, shadow incarnation, shadow rush, and two others likely drawn from secret methods of cultivation, the ability to break free from bindings and a technique that seemed to enhance his spiritual power.

But despite all of his efforts, the tide of battle was still turning against the Black Knight.

Ryan knew that, for all the Black Knight’s tricks, the outcome of the fight was becoming increasingly clear. Yes, the Black Knight was an elite warrior, formidable, no doubt, but even an elite’s prowess depended on who they were up against. Durland, once the chief of the Sky Sword Hall, had a deep well of experience and skill. While his spiritual power hadn’t grown significantly in recent years, his swordsmanship had only sharpened with time.

As the battle raged on, Ryan noticed something fascinating. The awkwardness in Durland’s technique was fading. His movements became smoother, more refined. It was as though he had finally found the rhythm, the precise sword form that allowed him to fight at his absolute best, even under these challenging conditions.

Suddenly, there was a loud ‘clang’ as the two swords collided.

Durland’s sword, encased in a shimmering green light, broke through the Black Knight’s defensive stance with stunning precision. The blade arced toward the knight’s face, aiming directly between his eyes. It was a perfect strike, fast and lethal.

“It’s over…” Ryan thought, his shoulders relaxing as he watched the decisive blow. There was no question now. The battle was won.

Even though the Black Knight had a slight edge in spiritual power, he was no match for Durland’s honed swordsmanship. The fight had reached its inevitable conclusion, and Durland had emerged victorious.

The disparity in skill between Durland and the Black Knight was glaringly obvious. The Black Knight fought with all his might, relying on secret techniques and tricks, but Durland was simply too far ahead in sheer combat prowess. In truth, if Durland hadn’t been so cautious, wary of the Black Knight’s hidden abilities, the fight could have ended in a fraction of the time.

As Durland’s sword slashed through the thick veil of shadows, a trail of green light followed the blade’s deadly path. The tip of the sword pierced through the Black Knight’s brow with precision, but something unexpected happened. The Black Knight’s body shimmered and faded into an ethereal form, dissolving into swirling shadows before scattering into the air.

A hundred meters away, the shadows on the ground began to rise and twist, coalescing into the form of the Black Knight once again. His face was pale, drained of energy. It was clear that the escape method, the ability to substitute his body with an illusion, had taken an enormous toll on him.

Without wasting a second, the Black Knight turned and bolted, his instinct for survival overriding any remaining will to fight. He knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that he couldn’t defeat the black-haired swordsman.

But Durland had no intention of letting him escape.

With a flicker of blue spiritual energy, Durland’s senses locked onto the Black Knight’s new position before he had even fully materialized. Just as the Black Knight turned to flee, the flash of Durland’s sword was already upon him, barely ten centimeters from the back of his head.

The sheer sharpness of Durland’s strike, though it hadn’t even made contact yet, was enough to slice off strands of the Black Knight’s hair and leave a thin, bleeding cut along the back of his scalp.

At this distance, with his body weakened and his energy spent, the Black Knight’s defeat was inevitable. He could feel the edge of death approaching with terrifying speed.

But then, just as Durland’s sword was about to deliver the final blow, an armored hand, encased in shimmering obsidian, intercepted the blade with a deafening clang.

Boom!

A spiritual explosion followed the impact, the force of it so immense that it sent Durland flying backward, his body skidding more than ten meters before he managed to regain his footing.

As the dust settled, the air became thick with tension. From within the swirling cloud of smoke, a towering figure stepped forward, his silhouette imposing and menacing. He was clad in pitch-black armor, similar to that of the Black Knight but far more refined, with intricate details etched into the metal. This was no ordinary knight.

On the visor of his helmet, between the eyes, a golden number “4” gleamed ominously.

A wave of overwhelming spiritual pressure radiated from the newcomer, spreading across the battlefield and covering nearly a hundred meters in every direction. The sheer weight of it pressed down on everything, suffocating the air and plunging the surroundings into an unnatural, eerie silence.

Ryan’s expression darkened as he took in the sight of the new arrival. This wasn’t just another Black Knight, this was the Fourth Seat of the Black Knights, one of the most dangerous individuals in the Alliance.

Without thinking, Ryan’s hand moved instinctively to the hilt of the greatsword strapped to his back, fingers tightening around the grip. His heart pounded in his chest as the atmosphere grew heavier, the tension rising with every passing second.

Durland had already faced a fierce battle, but now, the true challenge had just arrived. And Ryan knew, this would be no ordinary fight.

The oppressive force of spiritual energy pressed down on Ryan like mountains and crashing waves. It was a suffocating, all-encompassing power that he hadn’t felt in ages. His breath grew shallow as the weight of it bore down on him.

The fourth-level limit… Ryan thought, a chill running down his spine. But this wasn’t just any fourth level. This was a level reserved for the strongest, those who stood at the very pinnacle of their tier.

The Fourth, Fifth, and Sixth Seats of the Black Knights were not titles handed out lightly. They were earned through blood, battle, and mastery. Each one of them was a living nightmare, capable of hunting witches alone, monsters in human form.

Durland let out a low, almost bemused laugh. “Ahahaha… well, this just got a whole lot harder,” he muttered, his lips twitching as he eyed the newly arrived Black Knight. His tone held a mix of frustration and grim humor. “Didn’t expect a big one to show up… tsk.”

The Black Knight who had narrowly escaped death moments ago turned to the newly arrived figure, bowing deeply in respect. “My lord, I—”

But before he could finish, the Fourth Seat raised his hand, a simple gesture that silenced the subordinate immediately.

“Leave it to me,” the knight said in a calm, authoritative voice. Those three words carried the weight of absolute certainty, unshakable confidence born from countless battles, from never knowing defeat.

The other Black Knight stepped back in reverence, admiration flickering in his eyes. He knew better than anyone the gap that lay between them. Even though they were both at the peak of the fourth level, the difference in power between him and the Fourth Seat was like night and day. He couldn’t hope to match his commander’s strength, not in a hundred years.

He retreated a hundred meters, silently conceding the battlefield to his superior. There was no need for him to interfere. Now that the Fourth Seat had arrived, the outcome was all but decided.

The two before him, Durland, the black-haired swordsman with near-flawless technique, and Ryan, a target on the Black Knight’s hunt list, posed no threat. No ripple would disturb the inevitability of this battle’s end.

With deliberate, almost leisurely slowness, the Fourth Seat reached for the hilt of his sword. His movements were so measured that even a common bystander could follow every step of the process. Yet, as he drew the blade from its sheath, the spiritual pressure in the air became volatile, oppressive. The very atmosphere darkened, as though the moonlight itself recoiled from his presence. Shadows bled into every corner of the battlefield, as if summoned by his mere will.

Clang.

The knight’s sword gleamed as the tip rose, pointing directly at Ryan and Durland, the two figures who stood in defiance before him. The Fourth Seat didn’t care who this black-haired swordsman was. He didn’t need to. There was a faint trace of magic on Ryan, and that was enough. Anyone associated with witches was an enemy, and the time for words had passed.

Ryan, feeling the immense spiritual force radiating from the knight, took a step forward. His gaze never wavered. He had waited for this moment, the confrontation he knew was inevitable. Now, standing before the most fearsome of the Black Knights, he felt the tension in the air crystallize.