Chapter 24: The Penniless Pirate (Part One)

April 3rd, Sea Circle Calendar Year 1506, the Northern Sea.

A ship, classified as "Epic Ruin," sailed through the Northern Sea, its destination a mystery to any observer. Its sail, dark red and sticky, billowed in the ocean wind, the sound of the canvas flapping thick with the heaviness of dampness. The ship’s battered hull was stained with black, the kind of mark that blood, as a natural dye, would leave—impossible to wash away.

Unusual sea creatures with peculiar tastes circled the vessel, perhaps drawn by instinct or simply waiting for the ship’s demise. Yet, their anticipation seemed in vain. This floating wreck, teetering on the edge of sinking, was, paradoxically, the hardest to truly sink.

If one asked its name, it could only be called "The Giant."

Now, The Giant’s hull was cleaved open on one side, exposing the layered structure of its cabins, while breaches at the waterline allowed seawater to pour in ceaselessly. Crew members swarmed within, desperately patching the ship. Complete repairs were impossible, but controlling the flooding was vital. Those who had hoped for rest after hoisting the sails, exhausted from rowing, found no respite.

With the ship’s balance disturbed, The Giant’s bow floated high, and it listed nearly forty degrees. Yet, it refused to go under.

Thick blood dripped from the sail onto the deck, seeping through the cracks in the planks and pouring into the uncharted sea. For those who sailed the New World, navigating the Four Seas was a blessing, even aboard a ship on the verge of sinking. At least here, the weather was not capricious—now was spring in the Northern Sea, a spring that would not suddenly turn to summer and unleash a tropical cyclone.

At last, The Giant reached the Northern Sea, Captain Grisha’s voyage a success, though the final stretch had been harrowing. The Calm Belt was no game, and the Sea Kings were no mere bosses; their territory was not limited by "activity range." Even after The Giant escaped the Calm Belt, Sea Kings pursued it into the Northern Sea.

Though the numbers weren’t as overwhelming as in the Calm Belt, Sea Kings continued their pursuit, even now.

At the stern of The Giant, the massive head of a Sea King lay crushed against the deck, its neck trailing into the sea, its body long gone.

This "remnant body" was the main reason The Giant was so front-heavy and unstable. The head was grotesque—not merely for its size, but for the multitude of blades embedded in it, shallow and deep, like a hedgehog that had died from some cruel play. Beneath its jaw, more precisely at its mouth, lay Qiubai, seemingly reduced to half a body, his lower half vanished.

It seemed the Sea King had swallowed him whole. His chest barely moved, his gaze hollow, as though he was on the brink of death—in truth, he had nearly died, both physically and mentally exhausted, unable to move.

His mouth, however, could not be silenced.

He spoke as if uttering his last words: "If I were a bird, I would sing with a hoarse throat. Why do my eyes always brim with tears? Because I care for you..." Who he addressed was evident, but before he could finish, he was dragged inch by inch out of the Sea King’s mouth like a slab of pork hauled on a cart.

The good news: though he appeared close to death, he was not truly lost—his lower half was intact. The Sea King’s head only had half a mouth; its lower jaw was gone. When Qiubai was pulled free, he rolled onto his side.

"I thought I was really going to die!"

A long exhale carried the relief of survival. The speaker was a white bear clinging behind Qiubai—though, bathed in blood, it now looked more red than white.

In this battle, the bear’s only contribution had been to drag Qiubai out. That was no fault of his; at his age, the furfolk were far stronger than their human peers, but in a fight against a Sea King? Beppo could do nothing; he was, after all, just a cub.

The upper jaw of the Sea King’s head was embedded in the deck, while its lower jaw was gone—cut off by Qiubai at the last possible moment, saving him from being devoured.

Qiubai, slumped to the side, was deeply frustrated. Even at death’s door, he wasn’t allowed to finish his speech.

It was Aion who, supporting his shoulder, helped him up from the deck.

Qiubai was truly spent, leaning against the girl for support. Yet, this single-dog envy-worthy moment was lost on him.

From start to finish, Aion had been protected by Qiubai, and her condition was far better than his. Qiubai had slain countless Sea Kings—she couldn’t and hadn’t kept count, but knew she had fired over two hundred arrows, not counting misses, inflicting light, heavy, and fatal wounds on many. But in the desperate encirclement they faced, there were things she simply couldn’t attend to.

Their escape from the Calm Belt owed much to Qiubai’s ability to use "Fantasy Collapse"—essentially detonating stored energy, avoiding direct melee with the Sea Kings. Had he fought them hand-to-hand, he would have been doomed. Crucially, the disaster struck when they were already on the edge of the Calm Belt.

By rushing out as quickly as possible, they provoked only a few Sea Beasts—far fewer than the vast numbers within the Belt.

During the battle, Qiubai exhausted himself completely, a tactic he’d never tried before. On the other hand, his arsenal was more than adequate; he hadn’t even used up the mass-produced blades. Within his "Reality Marble: Unlimited Blade Works," there were nearly ten thousand counterfeit weapons, and he’d always been expanding their number and variety. The thousand-blade, absolute blade, blunt blade, thin blade—these were just self-made concepts and forms; he’d never seen the originals, and though their quality might rival the real thing without side effects, making them was unnecessary—a matter of personal preference. For true quality, his Reality Marble contained overwhelmingly superior legendary swords.

"Should we push it into the sea?" Aion asked after helping Qiubai up, referring to the Sea King’s head.

"No need. Let the ship float as it is," Qiubai replied. If they threw it overboard, the ship’s balance would shift forward, greatly increasing the flooding.

Qiubai glanced at the head, remembering the crew members lost overboard. The dream of crossing the Calm Belt with all hands intact was just that—a dream. Captain Grisha had succeeded, but his crew was now less than two-thirds its original number.

This was inevitable. Crew members lost overboard during the ship’s violent movements could not be rescued—surrounded by Sea Kings, The Giant could neither stop nor slow.

The work of the fallen was silently taken up by another, without complaint. It seemed cold, but it was not out of fear; it was simply rational judgment.

Once in the sea, no one could save anyone.

Even Qiubai—if it wasn’t Aion who fell in, he could do nothing. Simply dealing with the Sea Kings left him stretched thin.

But whether Sea Kings, humans, or News Birds, the death of any life carried an infectious weight. No normal person could remain unmoved by death, whether their own or another’s.

Qiubai stared at the Sea King’s head, and no one could guess what thoughts filled his mind.