"Seaweed Blade?" At the mention of that name, Pasfield's brows drew together sharply.
He had heard of them. Even among the so-called Sea Hunters, this guild ranked among the most brutal. They didn't just hunt treasure; they were involved in the slave trade as well.
If it truly was them, then a clash would likely be unavoidable. If this had merely been a case of shipwrecked sailors, perhaps they could have offered temporary aid. But Seaweed Blade clearly didn't fall into the category of people worth rescuing.
After a brief moment of thought, Pasfield decided to ask Ur's opinion. Matters of combat were hardly his strong suit.
"Ur, what do you think we should do?" Ur, who had been mentally drifting off, blinked when he heard his name and snapped back to attention. He looked at Pasfil as if he couldn't believe what he'd just heard.
"Do you even need to ask? Blast the hell out of them. Cannons, now. What's there to think about?" Lately, Ur had admittedly been a bit… relaxed.
But that was hardly his fault. For five straight days, he had lived a life where everything was handed to him, luxury at its finest. The kind of decadent aristocratic indulgence that could corrode anyone's discipline.
Even though he'd "struggled valiantly," he had ultimately succumbed to it.
Still, when Bich had come to report earlier, Ur had caught enough to understand the gist. The moment he heard someone might try to seize their ship, he'd stopped listening.
Under normal circumstances, the next step was obvious: open fire. There was no need for discussion.
What was there to deliberate?
If someone was clearly trying to steal your ship, you just hit them. Their wreck of a vessel probably didn't even have working cannons anymore. With such overwhelming advantage, how could they possibly lose?
Hearing Ur's answer, Pasfield immediately made up his mind. "Guild Master Bich, pass the order. The moment they approach, concentrate fire. Destroy their vessel first."
"Understood!" Bich wasted no time heading below deck to prepare for battle.
Once he left, Pasfield sat back down on the sofa. His expression appeared calm, but a closer look revealed flickers of tension in his eyes.
After all, this was the first time he had personally faced such a confrontation.
By the time he was born, the Dori family was already a powerful and renowned commercial force. Even when conducting trade by sea, most ships would steer clear at the sight of the Dori crest.
The occasional fool who failed to do so would be swiftly eliminated under the command of his uncles. But a scenario like this—this was a first.
Ur cast him a lazy glance before collapsing back into the sofa in a shameless sprawl.
He genuinely couldn't understand what there was to be nervous about. With the number of enemies on that ship, he figured a single fireball would be enough to wipe them out entirely.
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Meanwhile, aboard Seaweed Blade's crippled vessel, Bubuta couldn't decide whether today was lucky or cursed.
Lucky, because he had merely set out according to guild tradition: search for treasure, hunt exotic beasts, and capture a few Vichy tribe slaves along the way. But just as he'd located a small Vichy settlement and barely started rounding people up, a white-haired woman had appeared out of nowhere.
One spell, and half his ship was obliterated.
If they hadn't fled fast enough, they might have all died there.
Unlucky, because just as their leaking vessel was on the verge of sinking, a lavish warship suddenly appeared before them.
He recognized the emblem.
Turtle King's Shield.
A mid-sized guild with a ship like that would deter most people. But Seaweed Blade wasn't "most people." After quickly arranging a few instructions with his subordinates, Bubuta strode to the bow, preparing to call out for help.
Truth be told, he loved dealing with "righteous" guilds like this. They were so easy to fool. A few well-crafted words, and they'd relax their guard.
Using this trick alone, Seaweed Blade had robbed countless legitimate guilds blind.
He slapped his cheeks a few times and stared into a mirror, forcing his facial muscles into what he hoped was a bright, grateful smile. After all, if you're going to act, you commit to the role.
Right now, he was a man on the brink of despair who had just spotted salvation. The joy had to feel genuine.
…Though why did his grin still look so sinister?
Staring at his own upturned lips, Bubuta felt something was off. "Whatever. Good enough."
He climbed to the bow and began waving frantically at the approaching ship, shouting at the top of his lungs with all the desperation he could muster.
"Good sirs ahead, please save—"
Boom!
Before he could finish, a cannonball exploded beside him, blasting several crew members clean off the deck.
Bubuta froze.
What the hell?!
That's not how this is supposed to go!
Whoosh!
Boom! Boom! Boom!
In the seconds that followed, several more cannonballs roared across the sea from the opposing vessel. Within moments, his already shattered ship began to tremble violently, threatening to break apart entirely.
"Damn it! Return fire! Full speed ahead—ram their ship!" After just a few volleys, Bubuta understood. They'd been exposed.
But he reacted decisively.
Their ship wouldn't last much longer. Their only chance now was a desperate gamble—close the distance as fast as possible, board the enemy vessel, and fight for survival.
The cannons of the Turtle King's Shield thundered relentlessly, maintaining both the initiative and the advantage. In mere moments, Seaweed Blade's forces were nearly in complete disarray.
Just as they prepared to press their advantage and finish the enemy off, a spell erupted from behind them, striking in a bizarre and unexpected arc.
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Next Chapter: Jangsen's Strength
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Next Next Next Chapter: The Vichy Tribe