Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 80

Chapter 80: Storm Fighter!
With a resounding clang, a visible shockwave erupted, scattering wood chips and dust into the air. A figure staggered backwards under the force, carving deep grooves into the wooden deck.

“One-eyed” Santas, eyes narrowed, extended his hand in a commanding gesture, a spectral light swirling in his palm as he attempted to summon the spear back to him. To his astonishment, though his call was answered, the spear remained immobile, as if ensnared by an unseen force.

A perplexed frown creased Santas’ brow as he fixed his gaze on the silhouette emerging from the swirling debris.

As the dust settled, the pirates and Santas beheld the sight of a young man, defiantly holding his ground. In one hand he brandished a sword; in the other, he gripped the silver spear that vibrated violently, attempting to escape. Yet, his grasp was unyielding, firm as iron, thwarting the spear’s frantic efforts to break free.

Ryan met Santas’ stare with a challenging smirk. “Want it back? I’ll gladly return it to you!”

With a swift motion, he hurled the spear, now tinged with a faint blue aura. As it sped towards Santas, the connection between the pirate and his weapon eerily dissolved.

Santas’ expression darkened with shock.

Had the young man severed the mystical bond with the spear so effortlessly? Was he an alchemist? A scholar?

Such questions flickered through Santas’ mind, but there was no time to ponder, action was imperative.

As the silver spear hurtled toward him, devoid of extensive spiritual enhancement, it emitted an eerie, otherworldly screech that cut through the air. Its movement, driven by sheer brute force, caught Santas off guard, a flicker of astonishment flashing across his eyes.

The distance between them was negligible, a mere few dozen meters, distance the spear could close in less than a second. In that critical moment, Santas’ shock was swiftly overtaken by a calculated calm.

He opened his mouth wide, releasing a torrential wave of spiritual energy. This was the signature ability of a [First-level Pirate], the [High-spirited War Roar]! A potent spiritual blessing amplified the roar’s force, creating visible sound waves that shimmered in faint light blue, freezing the hurtling spear mid-flight.

This same skill, if wielded by a second-level elite, would have been even more formidable, but Santas was proficient enough to stave off immediate danger.

However, before he could revel in his momentary reprieve, a figure blurred past the suspended spear, closing the gap instantly. It was Ryan, his hand clutching a gleaming silver-blue sword.

Ryan too unleashed a roar of his own, albeit weaker than Santas’; yet, it was sufficient to dampen the impact of the [High-spirited War Roar] that Santas has casted, allowing him to advance unimpeded by the residual energy waves, thanks to his nearly monstrous physique.

In the split second as their eyes locked, Santas could only watch as Ryan’s sword descended with the ferocity of a tidal wave, the weight of the strike felt like a thousand pounds crashing down.

The air howled as the blade cut through it, sending Santas’ hair whipping wildly about his face. In a desperate reflex, Santas summoned another silver spear from the space ring on his finger, attempting to parry the formidable blow.

The clash of sword against spear sent shockwaves through the air. Santas’ eyes bulged, bloodshot from the sheer force, as a numbness spread rapidly through his arms. The impact sent him hurtling backward, crashing through his own men, who spat blood from the sheer force of being struck. He finally came to a jarring stop against the ship’s bulwark.

Panting heavily, the metallic tang of blood filling his mouth, Santas struggled to clear the darkening veil from his vision.

“What kind of terrifying strength… is this man a monster?” he gasped, horror dawning in his eyes as he watched Ryan approach, dragging his sword, step by relentless step. Fear, raw and palpable, etched itself across Santas’ face as he confronted the young man’s formidable presence.

After decades spent navigating the treacherous seas, Santas had encountered many fearsome foes, but never one as peculiar and terrifying as the young man before him. To call him merely a professional felt inadequate; he was more akin to a leviathan wearing human skin, a sea monster cloaked in the guise of a man. Such a comparison stirred Santas’ deepest fears, reviving fragmented, nightmarish memories of sea monsters that had once lurked in the shadowy depths.

In the midst of his dread, Santas suddenly felt an ominous tingling in his calf. Instinctively, he glanced down.

To his horror, he saw dark blue tendrils snaking up his leg, resembling venomous serpents ready to strike. His one good eye narrowed to a pinprick.

Ignoring the searing pain from his injuries and the blood that painted his battered body, Santas summoned every ounce of his spiritual energy. Veins bulged visibly beneath his skin, glowing faintly with a light blue aura as he fought to expel the invasive force.

This was the hallmark ability of the “Storm Fighter,” a second-level profession on the Pirate Path, [Storm Body]. This ability hyper-activated his spirituality, enabling him to resist external afflictions temporarily.

As he activated [Storm Body], the progression of the sinister blue lines slowed, granting Santas a brief moment of hope.

However, before he could even catch his breath, Ryan was upon him, his large sword now radiating a ghostly white light, indicative of some arcane technique. The world of mystic arts was vast, and in that critical moment, Santas couldn’t decipher the exact nature of Ryan’s power. All he could do was gather his fading strength, clutch his spear, and shift from defense to a desperate counter-attack, aiming the spear straight at Ryan’s heart.

But as Santas mustered his spiritual power for the throw, the suppressed blue tendrils surged anew, paralyzing his muscles momentarily.

Ryan’s attack was relentless. The sword, now aloft, descended with a terrible force, the air itself seeming to scream in anticipation of the blow.

Santas, struggling against the attack of the dark blue lines within his body, realized too late that his window for attack had closed. With no other option, he braced himself for defense, positioning his spear to intercept the devastating strike. The convergence of forces was imminent, and Santas prepared for the impact, knowing that every moment could be his last.