Byron, who had just successfully joined the **Man-Eating Shark**, was unaware that he had already earned a new moniker, the **Child of the Devil**, and that his head alone was worth a whopping 5,000 pounds!
The entire pirate ship erupted into chaos the moment the lookout struck the alarm bell.
First Mate **Bone Crusher** Miles, his voice betraying an unmistakable panic, reported,
"Captain! Those **Man-Eater Sharks** didn't give us any advance warning, and by the time we detected the cruiser, it was already too close for us to evade!
Moreover, the force six winds from the northeast came too fast; we must reef, or even furl the sails."
As he spoke, one could clearly see large groups of black shark fins circling near the pirate ship's waterline.
They hadn't noticed the arrival of the cruiser at all.
Indeed, the **Man-Eater Sharks** that **Bloody Eye** Salman raised were not merely pets but the pirate ship's most reliable allies and armed guards.
With a sense of smell over 32 times sharper than that of a hunting dog, and enhanced by some **Extraordinary Power**, these sharks could easily detect a drop of blood from 5 kilometers away.
As scouts, they were invaluable assets.
However, to keep these sharks in service and under control, a **Blood Sacrifice** was necessary, or else they would become disobedient, and might even turn on their masters.
If one were to blame, blame **Bloody Eye** Salman, who, while conducting a **Blood Sacrifice** with the crewmen of the **Pelican**, had summoned all the released sharks back to the ship.
After the feeding was over, and before these **Man-Eater Sharks** could return to their posts,
the **Stern Cruiser**, taking advantage of the dense fog, breached the safety distance that would have otherwise allowed for preemptive maneuvering.
The pirates knew all too well the vast gap in raw power between their ship and a **Navy** vessel—they knew better than the eager **Navy** themselves!
Moreover, the captain of a **Level 5 Ship**, no matter which **Transcendent Sequence** they hailed from, possessed at least a **Second Order** 'Professional' **Class**.
There was no advantage to be had on the **Transcendent** level either.
**Bloody Eye** Salman finally ceased his feeding. His eyes, usually slits, now round and bulging, shot forth a blood-red light as he scanned the entire ship.
Every pirate aboard, including Byron, felt a shiver down their spine.
He promptly issued a decisive command.
"I'll take the helm personally.
Order: Take in the sky and top sails, reef the upper sail by 50%, throw away all the worthless stores, lighten the load to increase speed, and do whatever it takes to shake them off!"
On a full-rigged **Garen**-type sailing ship, a foremast or mainmast typically carries four horizontal sails, from bottom to top: the main, upper, top, and sky sails.
Controls for each individual square sail require nine different types of rigging: halliards, buntlines, leech lines, clewlines, tacks, sheets, and three distinct sets of reef lines (for the foot, bottom edge, and side edges of the sail).
A sailing **battleship** often boasts eleven such horizontal sails. Thus, these riggings are repeated eleven times, totaling at least 99, and larger warships have even more of each type.
Therefore, as the sole source of propulsion, the complex sail system requires meticulous "tuning" at all times to achieve high speed.
One must be ready for sudden changes in wind direction at sea.
If the sails are damaged, a significant loss of speed could be disastrous for a ship stranded in the vast, open sea.
"Aye-aye, sir!"
The sail chief immediately ordered the sailors to tighten the reefing winches, taking down the top and sky sails without delay.
At the same time, he directed a group of the bravest sailors to climb the towering, sturdy masts, swaying in the rough waves, along the net-like shrouds.
Hauling in the reef points, they carried out the task of reefing the "upper sails" to reduce the area caught by the wind by a full fifty percent at once.
If the sails were allowed to catch the wind fully, the excessive dip from the sails alone could make the warship "nod" incessantly on the sea.
It would be laughably pathetic if they all ended up tipping into the ocean.
In these force six winds, maintaining high speed while preventing the sails from being torn by the sea breeze is a severe test of the sail chief's and the sailors' skills, certainly not something any sailing ship could handle with ease.
Meanwhile, the ship's **Sailor Chief** dashed to the hatch in a few strides and bellowed down to the crew in the hold, relaying the captain's orders,
"The captain commands to ditch the stores! Quick, quick, quick!"
**SPLASH! SPLASH!**
Blankets, cloths, ironware, kegs of spirits, iron pots... seized from the **Pelican** fell into the ocean one after the other.
But the pursuing warship showed no intention of slowing down to salvage the spoils of war.
Clearly, they held no regard for these trinkets; their eyes were set on the big prize aboard the pirate ship!
As time passed, the pirates exhausted all their tricks, and yet the distance between the two continued to close.
It was only a matter of time before they were caught.
The pirates of the **Man-Eating Shark**, armed with cutlasses, short swords, boarding axes, long and short **firearms**, were shouting as they took their battle stations.
All the pirates were aware that they had no **Privateering License** issued by the **Kingdom of Hightins**—once caught, hanging from the gallows was their inevitable fate.
Byron, watching the cruiser approaching from the northeast grow ever clearer, muttered softly to himself as the malice his **Spirituality** sensed became increasingly strong,
"One of you is a soldier, the other a thief. It makes sense for you to fight to the death!"
But that's under the assumption... that I'm not on this ship.
Given another weather condition, wind direction, or relative position, the pirate ship might have had a chance to escape using its natural agility.
But under the current headwinds, which were exactly the same for both ships, the situation played right into the hands of medium-sized cruisers like their pursuer.
Including **Bloody Eye** Salman, who was temporarily of an unknown **Sequence**, they had all run out of options.
However, Byron had one last ace up his sleeve!
His **Talent: Weather Intuition** stated: Today will go from clear to overcast; at 1:35 p.m., a sudden northeast wind of force six will arrive, shifting in three hours to force seven, with medium waves...
Even **Transcendent**s are merely weak ants under the **Great Power** of nature.
The escalating wind is their only chance at life!
But there is one condition: the **Man-Eating Shark** must hold out for three hours.
Sailors out at sea all share a common fate with the ship they are on, and there is simply no option to frown slightly and fall back amongst the crowd.
If they lose collectively, no one escapes.
In the storm five days ago, Byron was utterly powerless against the crisis that struck from dreams.
But this time, he was determined to seize his fate firmly in his own hands.
He looked down at his palms, at the calluses formed from years of practicing the sword since childhood.
Then he strode quickly past a group of shouting pirates, towards the pile of spoils looted from the **Pelican** in the center of the deck.
His eyes instantly found a sword standing out among a barrel of assorted swords, a longsword different from the sailors' cutlasses.
It was a **Bastard Sword**, elegant in design, yet exuding a deadly aura from within.
The **Bastard Sword**, also known as: hybrid sword, one-handed sword, hand-and-a-half sword, or mixed single/double-handed sword.
It combines the nimbleness of a broadsword, the **thrust** of a **knight's** sword, the chopping power of a two-handed sword, and the classical grace of a longsword.
Effective whether wielded with two hands or paired with a shield, it was hailed as the most perfect type of sword in the age of cold weapons.
It was also one of the most common and beloved weapons among knights in current wars.
**Echoes of History** activated, and an additional line of text appeared in the log's inventory section:
'**Bastard Sword** full length 120 cm, weight 1.98 kg, double hand grip, with a brass pommel.
Previous owner: Captain Jodie Gordon of the **Pelican**, a **First Rank** **Attendant** level **Punitive Knight** in the **Tribunal**.
Died from the combined **backstabbing** by his own crew and the joint assault by the **Marines** of the **Man-Eating Shark**.
This is an exceptional quality weapon, just one step away from reaching the **Miracle** level, possessing its own name and "Severing Inscription."'
Seeing the history attached to the sword, Byron's profound eyes darkened briefly.
Captain Jodie Gordon of the **Pelican** was the one who ordered that I be fished out of the sea, essentially saving my life. Although a vassal's vassal is not my vassal, Lord Crawford died fighting for **Lancaster**, and you died protecting Lord Crawford's assets. I have taken upon myself all of your hatred in the name of **Lancaster** and will make them pay in blood!
At this moment, a cold voice sounded from behind Byron:
"New kid, put that sword down.
Fresh faces on the ship don't have the right to share in the spoils that belong to us!"
Looking up, he saw First Mate **Bone Crusher** Miles approaching him fiercely.
**Bloody Eye** Salman, who was personally steering the ship, did not intervene.
Pirate ships might follow a fierce set of rules, yet they still belonged to the dark domain of lawful evil alignment. Every new recruit would have to face this baptism of intimidation. Their future status and the amount of say they'd have were largely determined by their conduct at this moment.
"Oh?"
The flicker of murderous intent within Byron's eyes was fleeting.
In theory, victory should be the priority in wartime.
Experienced pirates wouldn't suddenly switch to unfamiliar weapons during combat, even if the spoils were superior to their current armament.
That would be irresponsible to their own lives.
But evidently, the crux of the matter wasn't really about the **Bastard Sword**.
On a pirate ship where no cook could survive a month, how could anyone take a disposable chef seriously?
Without this sudden chase, even if Byron somehow managed to survive temporarily, he was destined to be at the bottom of the ship's food chain.
When you're poor, don't speak out of turn; when you're lowly, don't offer advice! This is true wherever you go. If I want to influence the captain's decisions, even the course of the upcoming battle, I must gain sufficient authority on this ship!
Byron ignored what the first mate said, stood up, and on his own accord, hung the **Bastard Sword** at his waist.
If this were the **Navy**, perhaps everything would need to proceed by the book, by seniority.
But among pirates, the way to win others over was straightforward and simple.
At the very instant Miles stepped into the **Bastard Sword's** maximum attack range.
**CLANG—!**
The longsword was drawn from its sheath, a flash of cold light, and a howling wind swept his hair violently back.
By the time Miles could see clearly again, the gleaming blade of the longsword was at his throat.
A cold sweat slowly slid down the temple of the pirate's first mate.
Across from him, Byron, his sword hand as steady as a rock and his face expressionless, stated,
"**Pirate's Ten Commandments**, Commandment Two: Fairness to all; the able rise, the mediocre fall.
First Mate, sir, what do you say... am I qualified to replace you?"