Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 78

Chapter 78: Cyclops Pirates!
“Boom!”

No sooner had they entered the region near East 4 Island than the [Black Rose] was assaulted by the predicted duo of blue-spotted electric rays. Under other circumstances, a first-level professional might have fled, but Freni was no ordinary opponent.

Under Ryan’s watchful eye, one ray was swiftly subdued and captured alive, while the other met a swift and brutal end.

The scene was grisly but necessary, both creatures would serve as valuable components in Freni’s potions, provided they were processed correctly.

Just as Freni used a massive hand of deep blue energy to haul the vanquished sea creatures onto the deck, another threat emerged.

“Boom!”

A dark spherical object sliced through the sky, crashing into the ocean near the ship, erupting into a violent spray of water.

“It’s a cannonball!” Ryan exclaimed, his face tensing as he scanned the horizon.

Through the mist, a sinister pirate ship crept forward, its flag bearing a blood-red, single-eye insignia fluttering ominously.

“Blood-red, one-eyed… It’s the second-level pirate crew, the Cyclops Pirates,” Ryan murmured, his eyes narrowing with resolve. The encounter was about to escalate far beyond a mere hunt for sea creatures.

The Cyclops Pirates, a formidable band of buccaneers, reign over the treacherous waters of the Inner Sea. At the helm is the notorious “One-Eyed” Santas, a seasoned pirate who long ago mastered the art of the spear, making him a legend for his deadly precision that has claimed many adversaries.

The moniker “One-Eyed” traces back to a fateful encounter with dense fog and formidable sea creatures in the murky depths of the Inner Sea. In this harrowing ordeal, Santas lost an eye but narrowly escaped with his life, a tale that has only burnished his fearsome reputation among the pirate ranks. Far from a mark of shame, his eye patch has become a symbol of his indomitable spirit.

Among pirates, tales of survival from the fog are rare. The fog itself, a spectral curtain of mist, is an omen most would rather forget. Ships that venture into its embrace seldom ever returns, and those few sailors who come out, speak only in fractured whispers of their ordeal, their memories as shrouded as the fog itself.

The One-Eyed Pirates command the Eastern Island, a place ceded to them by the triumvirate of the largest pirate factions. Traditionally, their dominion was marked by the occasional patrol vessel warding off interlopers among the Whirlpool Islands. However, today’s full-scale deployment has a singular objective: the capture of the elusive blue-spotted electric ray.

This creature, with its potent electric shocks, is a formidable foe to anyone daring enough to approach. It possesses a vengeful memory, able to recognize and attack a past aggressor even years later. While it presents a significant nuisance, capable of damaging ships with its electric discharge, it holds greater value. The ray’s electric gland is a crucial component in crafting both the pirate’s second-level magic potions and the “clear mind potion,” vital for ventures into the enigmatic Minin Forest, where the Moon Wolf had last appeared.

The forest itself is influenced by the Moon Wolf, drawing hordes of irascible, bloodthirsty monsters that attack humans on sight. Yet, the real danger lies deeper within, as prolonged exposure has been known to erode the sanity of even the most hardened pirates. In this perilous context, the “clear mind potion” becomes an essential safeguard, allowing for deeper exploration and greater understanding of the mysterious forces at play in Minin Forest.

As the haunting red glow of madness began to burn in their eyes, the sailors’ minds fell prey to an enigmatic force, edging toward hysteria. Without the safeguard of the “clear mind potion,” delving deeper into the shadows of the Minin Forest was a perilous venture reserved only for the foolhardy or the prepared.

Yet, the craft of potion-making was a rare art, mastered by only a handful of alchemists or learned scholars. With the looming time of the next full moon night, the three leading pirate factions found themselves compelled to secure the services of a renowned potion master from Silver Moon Bay, no matter the cost.

Onboard the deck of the Cyclops Ship, a question hung in the salty air as “One-Eyed” Santas, the distinguished yet formidable captain of the Cyclops Pirates, sought alternatives. His cultured demeanor belied his rugged profession; though he wore the refined garb of a scholar, the eyepatch over his sapphire-blue eye hinted at a life of peril and command.

“Mr. Twilight,” Santas inquired, his voice calm but carrying the weight of urgency, “besides the blue-spotted electric ray, are there any other viable substitutes for the mind-clearing potion?”

The alchemist, known only as “Twilight,” clad in a mysterious copper mask and a billowing gray hooded robe, responded from beside him. His voice was low and measured, “Indeed, there are substitutes. However, they pale in comparison to the efficacy of the blue-spotted electric ray. With alternative ingredients, the yield of the potion decreases significantly.”

Twilight, a shadowy figure renowned for his morally ambiguous practices, was among the few capable of navigating the blurred lines between legality and necessity in Silver Moon Bay.

Santas, half-jesting yet earnest, continued, “Why, a formidable pirate such as myself, with a bounty surpassing 55,000 pounds, finds himself at odds with a mere first-level sea creature?”

With a slight chuckle veiling his concern, Twilight retorted, “I presume the reputation of the blue-spotted electric ray precedes itself, Mr. Santas. It’s no ordinary foe, as you well know.”

“Indeed,” Santas conceded, a wry smile creasing his features. “But your point is taken. Regardless of the challenges, I shall secure one of these creatures for our needs.”

“But remember,” Twilight pressed, his voice as raspy as the sea winds, “their electrical discharges make them tricky quarry. Alive or dead, the integrity of the catch is paramount.”

“Understood,” Santas replied, nodding firmly. Just as he was about to strategize their approach to the creature’s known habitat, a sudden cry from the lookout pierced the air, “Captain, trouble! The blue-spotted electric ray has been snagged by another pirate ship!”

Santas’ expression darkened instantly. The stakes had just escalated; not only did they need to procure the ray for their urgent needs, but now they faced unexpected competition.

With swift determination, Captain “One-Eyed” Santas bounded up to the observation deck, his one good eye squinting through the telescope. There, sprawled on the enemy ship’s deck, were two blue-spotted electric rays, their bodies glistening under the sun. The sight steeled his resolve.

“We can’t let them get away,” he muttered under his breath, the weight of necessity pressing upon him.

He descended to the main deck with a sense of urgency, striding directly to the artillery bay where the ship’s largest cannon loomed like a slumbering beast. Santas made quick work of the calibration, aiming just beyond the enemy ship, and pulled the firing pin with a seasoned hand. The cannon boomed, a roar followed by a cloud of thick smoke as the cannonball soared across the sky.

The shot was strategic, meant more as a warning to halt the other ship’s escape rather than to inflict damage. Observing the unfamiliar flag fluttering on the rival ship’s mast, Santas surmised they were a minor, perhaps novice, pirate crew. Yet, their capture of two electric rays spoke of unexpected competence far surpassing the capability a novice should have.

After the cannon’s echo faded, Santas barked a command that carried over the din, “Full speed ahead!” His voice cut through the salt air, rallying his crew to action.

Meanwhile, aboard the Black Rose, tension mounted. Ryan, the ship’s navigator, observed the Cyclops emerging ominously from the mist. He turned to his captain, Freni, uncertainty etching his features. “Lord Freni, what should we do?”

“What should we do?” Freni echoed, her gaze sharp and a smirk playing on her lips. “They’ve fired upon us, Ryan. What else is there to do but respond?”

“Just fire the cannon!” she declared, her voice laced with a zeal that seemed to invigorate the air itself.

Ryan hesitated, the unspoken warning of Santas’ formidable reputation lingering on his tongue. But with Freni’s resolute command, he resigned himself to action. He positioned himself at their main cannon, far more formidable than standard issue. The White Dove, now the Black Rose, boasted an 18-pounder whose thunderous retorts were unmatched, a rare beast whose ammo was coveted by even the wealthiest of merchants.

With a wry smile of defiance, Ryan aligned the cannon with the looming silhouette of the Cyclops. He pulled the firing pin, the primer ignited, and with a resounding “Boom!” a mighty roar cleaved the silence, sending a cannonball hurtling towards their formidable adversary. The sound reverberated across the open sea, a bold statement of their unwillingness to yield.

As the iron cannonballs plummeted into the ocean, they erupted with tremendous force, casting towering geysers of seawater skyward. The thunderous roar of the impact, mere meters from the Cyclops, sent a wave of shock through the crew.