Knight: from Apprentice to the Almighty

Scar-faced Carl shot upright, cocking his head to listen.

"Tom, did you hear that?"

Tom tensed up as well, straining to make out the sound.

"Probably just the wind, right? Or an echo in the gorge? In this damned place, you hear all sorts of weird noises..."

Despite his words, his hand had already drifted unconsciously to the Curved Saber at his waist.

The thick fog continued to blanket everything in silence, swallowing the faint sound as if it had never been there.

Only the cold dampness stubbornly seeped into every inch of wood, every strip of canvas, and the taut nerves of every Pirate.

They didn’t know that behind this natural curtain, a pair of sharp eyes had already locked onto their blurry silhouettes.

And with the spreading fog, a meticulously planned "hunt" was quietly beginning.

The next moment, everything changed.

The fog was no longer a silent curtain; it was as if it had been violently ripped apart by a giant, unseen hand.

A massive silhouette, like a beast from the Deep Sea, burst without warning from the milky-white Chaos, carrying a suffocating pressure as it slammed viciously into the fragile broadside of the Blood Claw.

"Enemy attack!"

Scar-faced Carl’s cracking shriek was instantly drowned out by the deafening roar of the impact.

CRACK! BOOM!

The wooden structure groaned and splintered with a sound that set teeth on edge.

The Blood Claw listed violently. The unprepared Pirates on deck were sent flying and tumbling like bowling pins, their screams and curses mingling into a single, chaotic din.

Carl clung desperately to the slippery gunwale to keep from being thrown overboard. He stared, wide-eyed with terror, at the warship that had appeared like a Ghost.

Its streamlined hull was similar to their own Pirate Ship, but its sturdy oak frame was sheathed in polished copper. The figurehead was a ferocious Sea Sparrow with its wings spread as if to strike, its sharp beak glinting coldly in the gloomy fog.

"Whose ship is this? Damn it, how did they find us in such thick fog?"

Tom’s voice was distorted by Fear. He drew his Curved Saber, but his arm was trembling uncontrollably.

Before the Pirates of the Blood Claw could mount any real resistance, a volley of grappling hooks whistled through the air, thrown from the high gunwales of the Sea Sparrow, and bit deep into the Blood Claw’s deck and railings.

The ropes instantly went taut with a low thrum, pulling the two ships tightly together.

Immediately after, countless boarding Warriors swarmed onto the deck, swinging their weapons at the bewildered Pirates.

But the most terrifying of them all was a slender figure, fast as a ghost.

She seemed to ignore the obscuring fog, running across the taut ropes with perfect precision, as if sprinting on solid ground.

The Foil in her hand carved a cold, silver arc through the mist. Wherever she passed, the Pirates who hastily rushed to meet her were cut down like wheat.

"A monster! She’s a monster!"

Carl watched as one of his own subcommanders, a man known for his ferocity, had his throat pierced in a single strike by the slender figure.

Fear, like a cold viper, seized his heart.

’This isn’t a battle, it’s a one-sided slaughter!’

Chaos spread like a plague.

Panicked shouts and the clash of blades rang out from the nearby Black Tooth and Broken Wave, which had clearly suffered the same Thunderbolt strike.

The screams and clashes of steel rising and falling within the fog made it impossible to judge the enemy’s exact position or numbers. All they knew was that death was closing in from every direction.

The Pirates ran around like headless chickens. Some tried to cut the grappling ropes, only to be pinned to the deck by a Crossbow Arrow.

Others tried to jump overboard to escape, but were run through by a Long Spear that suddenly thrust out of the mist.

More still just shoved and trampled one another in despair.

In just a few breaths, the number of figures on deck still daring to resist had dwindled by more than half. The rest were either cowering in corners, trembling, or had already dropped their weapons and knelt to beg for mercy.

Meanwhile, standing on the high quarterdeck of the Sea Sparrow, Roland’s voice was as steady as a rock.

The various pieces of nautical knowledge he had diligently studied were being converted into practical battlefield tactics at an astonishing rate under the effects of [Concentration].

"Port side grappling hooks have hit the aft side of the Blood Claw’s mainmast! Boarding party, suppress the mid-deck! Prioritize eliminating those with heavy weapons!"

His voice wasn’t loud, but it cut clearly through the fog to the waiting Messenger below.

The orders were swiftly relayed via a specific sequence of whistles.

"The Broken Wave is trying to cut the lines and break away!"

The lookout’s voice came, tinged with urgency.

"Hmph. Too late."

A cold smirk touched Roland’s lips.

The second wave of the boarding party he had arranged in advance, like cheetahs lying in wait, launched a surprise attack from the other side of the ship—a blind spot shrouded in thick fog—just as the Pirates of the Broken Wave were busy dealing with the ropes.

Screams erupted once more, and the resistance on the Broken Wave’s deck was swiftly extinguished.

The battle went even more smoothly than expected.

The Pirates had been completely stunned by the attack from within the fog, even before Roland himself had a chance to act.

They were completely disorganized, fighting for themselves, and even trampling each other.

On the Sea Sparrow’s side, however, under Roland’s overall command and the leadership of Teresa and a few other elite crew members, they worked in perfect concert. They moved as swift as the wind, each attack striking the enemy’s weakest point.

"Report, Captain! The deck of the Blood Claw is clear! A Pirate leader on the Black Tooth put up a desperate fight but has been wounded and captured! The Broken Wave has surrendered!"

Hobbit’s excited, panting voice rang out as his small figure darted nimbly across the deck, his eyes shining with adoration.

Roland merely nodded, his gaze sweeping over the battlefield.

The fog still lingered, but the three Pirate Ships were now like defanged sea serpents, lying limp on the water’s surface. Only scattered fires, the pervasive stench of blood, and the suppressed sobs and moans of the prisoners remained.

As for the Sea Sparrow’s losses, they were negligible—only a few dozen crew members with minor injuries.

"Well done."

Roland’s voice carried a hint of post-battle adrenaline, but it was mostly filled with the calm of someone in complete control.

"Tally our gains, take the prisoners into custody, and treat the wounded. Put someone reliable in charge of that Pirate leader. He should have plenty of information in his head that we want."

"Yes, Mr. Roland!"

Hobbit replied loudly, his small frame brimming with energy as he quickly turned to relay the orders.

Not long after the crew began the clean-up operation, Roland, who was looking at his Professional Panel, finally let out a sigh of relief.

In the qualification column for the [Pirate] Profession, the text that had originally read "Plunder 0/5 large ships" now showed "Plunder 3/5 large ships".

’Just two more large ships, and I can officially take on the [Pirate] Profession!’

At this thought, Roland clenched his fists, his gaze turning toward the depths of Wailing Gorge.

The fog there was even thicker and heavier; even the churning gray mist seemed to carry an ominous Shadow.

According to the intelligence he had gathered recently, there were at least eight to ten Pirate Ships lurking in the depths of Wailing Gorge.

More than enough for him to qualify for the [Pirate] Profession!