Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 52

Chapter 52: A Single Slash!
Certainly, the pivotal half-second “control time” granted by the [High-spirited War Roar] technique proved instrumental in Ryan’s ability to subdue his adversaries with such startling ease.

Il wielded a long sword with exceptional sensitivity, tailored for swift, decisive strikes. Had he been given the opportunity to escalate the fight into a hit-and-run guerrilla conflict, the battle would undoubtedly have stretched on far longer.

Ryan stood over his opponent, a man now half-kneeling on the dusty battlefield, his gaze cold and unyielding. With a practiced flick of his wrist, Ryan executed a swift, clean motion.

The razor-sharp edge of his sword swept across the man’s neck, severing it cleanly. As the head tumbled to the ground, Ryan, with his sword still dripping with blood, advanced toward Lord Sproul, who was watching from a short distance away.

The rhythm of Ryan’s boots against the hard ground echoed ominously, each step sounding like a grim toll from the bell of the reaper in Lord Sproul’s ears.

The sight of Il, a renowned figure among first-level professionals, being effortlessly decapitated sent waves of terror through Lord Sproul. His complexion turned ghostly white, and the harp he had been confidently playing moments ago now quivered silently in his tremulous grip.

As Ryan continued his relentless approach, Lord Sproul stumbled backwards in panic, eventually tripping over the body of a fallen navy soldier.

Crashing to the ground, his harp nearly slipped from his grasp. Gone was the bravado with which he had arrived; replaced now by a visceral fear.

“No! It shouldn’t be like this!” he cried out, his voice a mixture of disbelief and dread. “He was merely an ordinary man, subject to the [Golden Rule], transformed into a professional by some fluke. How could he possess such formidable strength?!”

In a burst of desperate rage, Lord Sproul flung his hand upwards. The space ring on his finger shimmered, and from it materialized a unique flintlock pistol. Its barrel shone silver-white, while its butt was a deep red, with grotesque tendrils resembling veins that burrowed into his palm, pulsating eerily as they siphoned his blood.

Lord Sproul’s finger jerked the trigger, and a loud “bang” ripped through the air, the acrid scent of gunpowder filling the space between them.

A bright red bullet, like a harbinger of vengeance, rocketed forth from the barrel, aimed directly at Ryan’s forehead.

The bullet from Lord Sproul’s flintlock was quick, yet his skills as a Bard, an auxiliary class, meant his physical prowess was minimal, marked at only 2.0, the lowest tier for first-level combatants. This starkly contrasted with Ryan, whose capabilities far exceeded his.

Indeed, while Ryan couldn’t outspeed the bullet, he didn’t need to; he only needed to outmaneuver its shooter.

As the bright red bullet whizzed mere centimeters from his cheek, Ryan closed the distance with a few swift strides, reaching Lord Sproul in an instant.

With a soft “Puff…” the sound of flesh being punctured filled the air. Lord Sproul’s expression froze as he slowly, tremblingly lowered his gaze to the silver-blue sword impaling his chest.

He desperately attempted to fire again, but before his fingers could graze the trigger, Ryan executed a swift, upward slash. The blade sliced through Lord Sproul’s right arm and torso, spilling torrents of blood across the deck. Lord Sproul’s eyes dimmed and then dulled entirely as life fled from his body.

Withdrawing his greatsword, Ryan’s attention shifted toward Cecilia. Across the chaotic deck, the remnants of three shadow hounds had dissolved into a viscous black puddle, and the knightly Cecilia was charging toward him.

Their eyes met, and Cecilia’s showed a flicker of astonishment, especially upon seeing the decapitated swordsman and the bisected noble. Her perception of Ryan, a man she had presumed to be a mere navigator, was radically altered. His combat style was nothing short of ferocious.

“Miss Cecilia, where is Lady Freni?” Ryan inquired urgently as he approached her.

Cecilia’s voice was icy, tinged with unmistakable concern. “The [Black Prison] is a unique ability of the Black Knight, only dissolving either through internal resolution or if the caster willingly ends it.”

“Is there no other way?” Ryan’s expression grew tense.

Lady Freni had always been generous to him, providing potions, secrets, knowledge, and money without a second thought. His debt to her was deep, a favor he was determined to repay.

Ryan couldn’t stand idly by as Freni faced peril alone.

“…Yes,” he affirmed resolutely.

Cecilia addressed him with a gravity befitting the situation. “If we can engage a higher-ranking professional, they might be able to pinpoint the ‘fixed point’ of the [Black Cage] in our realm and eliminate it. Once that’s done, I can break open this special spiritual space.”

“I have the means to locate it,” Cecilia continued, “but the effort will leave me severely drained and immobile. The task of aiding Lady Freni will fall to you.”

“I understand,” Ryan responded with a solemn nod. “Proceed, and trust that I will handle the rest.”

Cecilia’s gaze lingered on Ryan, her initial hesitation fading into resolve. Although she harbored doubts about him, her trust in Lady Freni’s judgment outweighed her skepticism. Accepting that Lady Freni had deemed Ryan a worthy ally, she decided to place her faith in him as well.

They reached the site where Freni had vanished. Ryan watched, taken aback, as Cecilia drew a deep breath, and her hair began to shimmer, slowly turning a light gray and cascading down to her waist. Her eyes transformed too, their pupils elongating into vertical slits, bestowing upon her an almost regal, otherworldly appearance.

Cecilia’s presence became more imposing by the moment, her demeanor not so much aloof as transcendent, compelling those around her to feel unworthy of her proximity.

She was enveloped in a surge of spiritual energy, distinctly different from the usual pale white associated with first-level professionals; hers was a clear, smoky gray that seemed to flicker like ethereal flames.

After a moment of concentration, her eyes snapped open. “Mr. Ryan, I will soon mark the location with my spirituality where the Black Knight is bound to appear. From that point on, the responsibility is yours.”

Amidst the eerie silence, a ghostly gray fire hovered mysteriously in the air. Ryan, his eyes narrowed with determination, charged towards the spectral blaze. As he neared, he hoisted the formidable Big Sword·Ferocious Ice Flower onto his shoulder, his body beginning to pulse with a gathering storm of power.

“Initiating ten-second countdown,” Ryan murmured, his voice steady yet filled with an anticipatory tension.

“10, 9, 8…”

As he counted, Ryan’s muscles swelled visibly, his veins thrumming with spiritual energy that coursed wildly through his being. He knew the challenge that awaited him, a formidable second-level elite adversary. Against such a foe, opportunities were fleeting, and precision was paramount. He could not afford to miss when the Black Knight emerged from the sinister Black Cage.

“Everything on this one strike,” Ryan thought, his resolve steeling. “Push beyond every limit!”

The spiritual energy within him accelerated, surpassing the ‘half-stage charge’ of his Storm Sword Skill – Breaking Wave. It continued to rise, unbridled and relentless.

The strain was immense. Ryan’s blood vessels strained against his skin, some nearing the brink of rupture. Thankfully, the Necklace of Fertility he wore, an inconspicuous talisman hidden beneath his shirt, flared with a soft healing glow, staving off his physical collapse.

Despite the necklace’s aid, the agony of his body tearing and mending was intense and unrelenting. Ryan clenched his teeth hard. He had endured the excruciating burns of the Male Fire Dragon, a formidable leader among its kind; this pain was bearable in comparison.

“…3, 2, 1, 0!”

As the final count echoed in his ears, a sharp sound, like glass shattering, pierced the air. From the void, two figures plummeted to the ground, the Black Knight landing merely a meter away from Ryan.

With no room for doubt or delay, Ryan acted in the split second the countdown ceased. He unleashed a mighty slash with the Big Sword· Ferocious Ice Flower, a strike imbued with all the pent-up energy and fierce determination of a warrior pushed to his limits.