CREAK! CREAK!...
The wooden sailing ship swayed violently from side to side amidst the strong winds and waves, emitting a grating moan that set one's teeth on edge.
The higher one's position, the more terrifying the degree of the sway.
The Navy officer, climbing the mainmast's shrouds with all his might, wore a captain's uniform. A leather belt across his chest held four short flintlock pistols.
Compared to a warrant officer, merely an officer-in-training, a captain—with at least two years of service and having passed the Navy Department examination—was a commissioned officer aboard a warship.
Moreover, like Byron, he was a half-Transcendent who had awakened his Spirituality but had not yet undergone the Promotion Ceremony.
In human society, apart from a minuscule number of geniuses who could independently complete their Spirituality elevation before adulthood, most Transcendents awakened gradually. This happened as they grew older, took on societal responsibilities, and gained richer experiences, often aided by potions and Spices. Transcendents over twenty years of age constituted the mainstream.
"I've made it!"
Taking advantage of the surrounding chaos, the captain, tasked by Baron Adonis with planting his flag, finally reached the mainmast's top spar.
A hint of joy touched his face. In such Force 6 winds, only the bravest sailors dared to climb the topmast.
Tens of meters below him, spray-flecked waves churned. A fall meant certain death.
High risk, however, also meant high reward.
The merit earned from this task would be enough for him to acquire the knowledge for the Promotion Ceremony.
His goal was to become an Artillery Expert of the Lighthouse Sequence, accumulate more merit, and be commissioned as a field officer.
He aimed to serve aboard a Level Four battleship or higher, take the fast track to promotion, and become a "gentleman" recognized by high society!
Although he had sworn allegiance to Henry VI of Lancaster upon enlistment, he was not one of those obstinate Punitive Knights.
Compared to his own future, who cared about loyalty?
Never mind pursuing a suspected remnant of the Lancaster Party, the Child of the Devil; it wouldn't be beyond him to stab the old King himself.
After all, the Lancaster Dynasty had fallen, and the York Dynasty had risen to power.
The White Rose controlled the Iron Laws of Sovereignty; as long as his conscience allowed, the consequences of oath-breaking wouldn't touch him.
The captain tore down the original pirate flag—a skeleton riding a Man-Eater Shark—and firmly nailed the Hightins Blood Cross Flag he had brought in its place.
Planting the flag was the signal. The captain didn't hurry away; he would stay to ensure the Edict took effect and, incidentally, welcome his moment of glory.
Aboard the Stern Cruiser, Baron Adonis had already raised his palm toward the Man-Eating Shark, which had entered his judicial jurisdiction.
He aimed the gold Ring of Law and Authority on his finger at the pirate ship and commanded:
"Edict: All pirates and acts of piracy not possessing this nation's Privateering License..."
But just then, as the captain thought the dust was about to settle, he suddenly saw the noble Baron's expression change dramatically, his finger pointing behind the captain.
He whipped his head around just in time to see a figure, like a cheetah, pouncing toward him from the shrouds on the other side of the mainmast.
A warning from his Spirituality allowed the captain to sidestep and retreat at the critical moment. The sword slash, aimed to sever his neck, instead grazed his chest, blocked by his Chain Mail with little damage.
Byron, however, remained unperturbed. He instantly changed tactics, using the rope tied around him as a safety line to leap to the other side of the spar.
As they passed each other, a close-quarters slash successfully sliced a chunk of flesh from the captain's thigh.
The sudden agony made the captain—an aspiring Artillery Expert clearly unskilled in swordsmanship—nearly lose his balance and fall from the spar.
He scrambled to grab one of the Flintlock Guns tucked into the leather belt across his chest.
As the saying goes: "Beyond seven paces, a gun is fast; within seven paces, a gun is both accurate and fast!"
Especially for Low Order Transcendents, cases of being killed by concentrated gunfire from ordinary soldiers were not unheard of.
Unfortunately, in the panic of the surprise attack, the captain failed to realize that in the instant they had exchanged positions, Byron had gained the windward advantage, leaving him downwind.
When Byron flicked his wrist, tossing a pouch of red powder, the fourteen-meter-per-second sea wind instantly carried it into the captain's face.
"AHH—!"
An even more piercing scream echoed above the battlefield. The searing pain in his eyes robbed him of the strength to reach for the Flintlock Gun on his chest.
Byron immediately lunged forward. With a slash, he not only snatched the belt from the captain's body but also kicked him off the spar, sending him plummeting tens of meters.
Below, the Man-Eater Sharks kept by Bloody Eye had been waiting for some time.
Seeing a meal delivered, they immediately swarmed.
As a chef, it's perfectly reasonable to carry a bag of chili powder, wouldn't you say? I just wonder if sharks are accustomed to spicy food.
At the same time, his sword flashed again, not forgetting to slice the Blood Cross Flag in half.
This rendered the Edict Baron Adonis was shouting utterly meaningless.
The weather change sensed by my Weather Intuition isn't far off now, Byron thought, silently beginning a countdown:
Ten, nine, eight…
With five seconds remaining, he signaled Little Hans, the carpenter he had alerted beforehand.
Little Hans, who had been poised at the bow's anchor station for some time, immediately released the Man-Eating Shark's anchor—a piece of equipment heavier than any of its cannons.
*Tactical Maneuver: Anchor-Turn!*
Precisely because a warship's main anchor was heavier than its cannons, the jolt of the anchor striking the seabed would abruptly tauten the entire anchor cable, instantly shaking the whole vessel.
Normally, such instantaneous jolts, which could potentially break a ship apart, were strictly forbidden.
But at this critical juncture of life and death, it was the Man-Eating Shark's only chance to break free from the Cruiser and escape.
SNAP—!
Dozens of grappling hooks binding the two ships snapped under the violent strain, and the two vessels, once pressed tightly side-by-side, truly separated.
After giving the signal, Byron didn't immediately slide down the mast. Instead, he clung tightly to the yardarm that extended out over the Stern Cruiser.
From his waist pack, he retrieved two bottles of 84.5 ABV Bacardi Rum from Captain Salman's personal collection.
A bright Spiritual Radiance flashed in his eyes. An invisible third hand uncorked the bottles and stuffed cloth wicks into their mouths, soaking them thoroughly with the liquor.
These were none other than the infamous Molotov Cocktails (improvised version)!
Ignited by sparks from the tinderbox in Byron's hand, the two bottles plummeted directly toward the warship's hatch below.
With two violent explosions, a fierce fire erupted in the warship's lower hold.
"The warship is on fire!"
"Fall back! The Baron is still on board! If the gunpowder depot explodes, we're all doomed!"
The Navy men, sent sprawling like tumbling gourds by the massive jolt, saw the dire situation. They quickly scrambled up from the deck and hurried to jump back to their own ship.
Even Fortress Guard Harold was no exception.
Had they been able to advance methodically, they might have eventually killed all the pirates with minimal losses.
But the pirates, having glimpsed a hope of survival, were now counterattacking fiercely, driven by their desperate will to live.
The Navy simply couldn't bear such a heavy price.
Coupled with the fire in their own "backyard"—their warship at risk of burning with a noble of York potentially still aboard—no one dared to take that chance.
Just as the Man-Eating Shark, under the dual forces of its anchor and the raging wind, carved a wide arc, its bow turning northeast to meet the gale—
"Cut!"
Bloody Eye Salman, his body radiating visible energy waves, leaped into the air and, with a single slash, severed the thick anchor cable.
Propelled by inertia, the Man-Eating Shark instantly shot northeastward, into the wind.
WHOOSH— WHOOSH— WHOOSH—
With only a few seconds' margin of error, the Force 7 gale, gusting at 27 knots, arrived as predicted, bringing tears to the pirates' eyes.
Huge, white-capped waves rose like hills, pushing the two sailing ships farther and farther apart in the blink of an eye.
A miraculous reversal!
"ROAR—!"
"The wind is here!"
"We really survived! Hahaha..."
Hearing the cheers erupting to the heavens from the pirate ship, the expressions of both Baron Adonis and Captain Harold turned exceedingly grim.
Meanwhile, the fire in the Cruiser's lower hold was spiraling out of control, threatening to reach the Ammunition Depot.
Captain Harold had no choice but to order:
"All hands, fight the fire! Everyone else, evacuate for now!"
One group of sailors desperately cranked the manual pumps, drawing water to combat the blaze.
Elsewhere, Baron Adonis, covered in soot and grime and supported by Marines, leaped onto a lifeboat. He clenched his fists so tightly that his nails nearly dug into his palms.
"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!..."
His furious roars were powerless.
Damaged rigging, the raging fire, and the sudden, abnormal weather meant the Cruiser had lost all possibility of pursuing the pirate ship.
He knew full well that today had been his closest, and likely his last, chance to capture the Child of the Devil.
Once his quarry completely escaped Hightins territorial waters, the reach of his family's warrant for him would inevitably expand.
The Navy, privateer captains, Bounty Hunters, and even other pirates... they would all soon swarm in for the prize!