When I opened my eyes in the morning, I initially thought I was still asleep and dreaming. Why was my first thought like this? Because I clearly heard the human speech. More precisely, someone was barking out orders in a guttural voice.
Peering out of the crevice where I had spent the night, I determined that it was almost noon. The rain had long since ended, and the rocks had dried. Meanwhile, the sky was covered with low clouds, which made it difficult to see Dairin. Before leaving my shelter, I checked how my gear was secured, and only after that, making sure I wouldn't make any extra noise, I removed the sheath from the tip of my spear and quietly slipped out of the crevice.
The voice that had woken me up came from the other end of the island, roughly from where the "Defector" had dropped me off. Trying to blend in with the rocks, I cautiously moved towards the noise in a straddling manner, somewhat resembling the local crabs. Such movement was slow but unnoticeable from the ocean side. It wasn't ten minutes before the wind shifted slightly, and I began to make out individual words:
"Heave! One! Two! Three!" They sounded loud and steady and kept repeating, "Heave! One! Two! Three!"
By the time I finally took up a position convenient for observation, I already knew what I would see, looking out from behind the rock. Those commands were painfully characteristic.
I was right. Along the shore, less than a hundred meters from the rocks, a galley was moving. More precisely, this ship could only be called a galley with a great stretch of the imagination. The vessel looked like something in between a drakkar and a junk. Less than thirty meters in length, with one mast, the sail of which was currently rolled up. This galley didn't even have a continuous deck, just like the Scandinavian ships, but it did have partially covered bow and stern parts. I counted fourteen oars on each side. Even from such a distance, the vessel seemed, to put it mildly, a floating wreck. Old, weather-beaten, the oarlocks creaking, it seemed a slightly higher wave would split it in two. But this external impression was deceptive because the ship showed excellent speed and could easily outrun, say, the "Defector" in a light wind.
The red flag with a bone image on the stern and the characteristic boarding bridges, now in a raised state, along the entire side and at the bow, left no doubt that this galley was a pirate ship. It looked too shabby to belong to the military of the city-states of the southeast coast and didn't carry any distinctive identifying flags. Besides, it didn't have a ram on its bow since a pirate's task is not to sink but to capture cargo.
I wonder what these corsairs are doing here? And do they plan to approach the island?
The idea to emerge from hiding and draw attention to myself was immediately discarded. Firstly, the galley was manned by slaves. This was evident from the fact that these people were half-naked and shackled in a single chain. The overseer, who cracked his whip along the rowing benches with each command from the boatswain, left no doubt about this. Therefore, simply jumping out and shouting, "Hey, I'm here, save me!" meant ending up on such a bench as a chained rower. Neither my high-quality armor nor the recently achieved Bronze would save me.
I took a closer look at the ship using "True Attention." The galley crew consisted of twenty-four people, a dozen of whom were at the Iron level, seven at Bronze, one full Steel warrior, and three mages with an unbalanced Core, Bronze/Steel. The captain of this ship was a warrior with the maximum humanly possible unbalanced Core of Wootz/Bronze.
I turned my gaze to the slaves. To my surprise, most of them were at the Bronze level, apparently former soldiers, but there were also Iron ones, as well as two fighters of full Steel. At first, I was surprised: wasn't it too risky to keep such advanced people as rowers? But then I realized that such slaves were much stronger and more resilient than Copper or Wooden ones. The captain apparently didn't fear a mutiny on his ship. In addition to the fact that the rowers were naked and unarmed, their shackles radiated with Magic. Most likely, they were somehow enchanted, and even a Steel warrior couldn't break out of them, and for the mages, these shackles interfered with their spellcasting.
Yes, due to my achievements and the density of my Core at the Bronze level, I was almost equal to Steel. Yes, I have excellent armor. But even a quarter of the pirate crew would be enough to deal with me and shackle me. A quarter - without engaging the captain because I'm not sure I could handle such an opponent one-on-one. I looked closer at the galley's commander and changed my mind. I couldn't defeat him. His movements, gestures - everything literally screamed that the pirate chief was no less an experienced fighter than Ender.
Attacking the pirates myself was complete madness. Here I should rather think about how to stay unnoticed by them. My armor is worth so much that they would be delighted to loot it. And then they would add me to their rowing team.
I carefully followed all the maneuvers of the galley, and the more I watched, the more clearly I understood that they were looking for a place to land on the island. I wondered what they had forgotten here. Maybe a pirate trove is buried on Gnur? What if?!! It doesn't sound as insane as it seems at first glance. This is a Cursed Island; everyone avoids it. And if you're bold and reckless enough, there's no better place to hide your treasure!
There was one thing that bothered me about this theory. Judging by the galley's maneuvers, its crew had never been so close to the shores of Gnur before. Although, if they came for someone else's treasure, it all made sense. Otherwise, I couldn't understand why anyone would sail to the Cursed Island. Every captain in the archipelago knows that there are only barren rocks here, and not even a spring to replenish fresh water supplies. The only good use for this shore is to abandon those sentenced to death. If they don't die from hunger and thirst, the abandoned ones will be eaten by zombies by the end of the month. And if the dead fail to do the job, three elemental mages of precious ranks will come and burn everything living.
As it turned out, this was the assumption closest to reality.
As soon as the galley found a place to dock and dropped a gangway to the shore, the captain stepped forward. He was dragging two people behind him. The first, an already gray-haired man of about forty, a Bronze healer, and the second, a young boy of about seventeen, a Copper warrior.
"Merchant Liao!" the captain bellowed at the top of his lungs. "I, Tongar Wano, the Storm of the Blue Sea! Did I promise you that neither I nor my crew would kill you or your son?"
"Yes," the elder of the pair responded quietly, so quietly that I could barely hear him.
"Did I promise you that I would not take you or your son into slavery if you surrendered your tub?"
"Yes," came another terse answer from the merchant.
"Did I promise to release you as soon as we dock?" roared the pirate chief.
"You did."
"From Tries to Kilat, everyone knows that I, Tongar Wano, always keep my word! You and your son are alive, we have docked, and I am releasing you!"
As soon as the captain finished shouting, his entire crew guffawed like a herd of well-fed horses. The slaves, for the most part, watched all this indifferently. Most of them simply collapsed on the benches, fully using the rest provided. However, there were those among them who barely held back their anger at what was happening. But they could do nothing except grind their teeth in impotent fury.
"I am releasing you!" The chief pirate laughed again.
"But this is Gnur, the Island cursed by the God of Plague!" The older merchant turned to him. Then he fell to his knees and started crying. "I beg you in the name of Elai! Kill us here and now!"
"Kill?" The captain roared and began kicking the merchant down the gangway towards the shore. "And break my word? You're a cowardly rat! Do you even understand what you're suggesting? And to whom? To me?!" Contempt literally poured from the corsair's speech. "The walking dead will eat you soon enough!" His words were met with another burst of laughter from the crew.
"Kill us!" The merchant continued.
"If you are so faint-hearted that you don't want to fight for your life, then climb with your worthless son to the top of the mountain and throw yourselves down headfirst!" Tongar roared. "What do I care about you now? I am keeping my word!"
"We worship Elai!" The merchant moaned, his hands folded in a prayerful gesture. "We cannot take our own lives."
"A merchant praying to the Goddess of Life!" The pirate shook his head. "You're as stupid as my boatswain's head!!!" At these words, the entire crew laughed, except for one bald man, a full-fledged Steel warrior, who looked upset. "You're a merchant! You should pray to Dyled[1], the patron of trade and deals!" The captain turned to his crew. "Perhaps, this is why this Liao is so unlucky, and his leaky vessel crossed our path?!"
These words were met with full understanding by the crew. The guffawing intensified; some pirates even fell to their knees from laughter. Even Tongar Wano himself was laughing so hard that he threw his head back.
The old merchant, without getting up from his knees, cast a glance at his son, and I saw his face. The face of a man who had just made up his mind. While the pirates were rolling with laughter, the merchant bit into his wrist and clenched his jaws as hard as he could, then jerked his head to the side. Blood spurted towards the galley. Those hit by these red droplets instantly experienced severe burns at the point of contact. Even the pirate captain got a share as five large droplets landed on his neck.
The dying sacrifice of a healer. The magic that they can perform only once. The magic three ranks higher than what the healer could access in life. But even such a sacrifice couldn't do irreparable damage to the pirates. Yes, it was unexpected for them, and they did not have time to defend themselves. Those who were hit by the sacrificial blood droplets felt great pain, and they got severe debuff for a short time. But this could not fundamentally change anything in the current situation.
"Forgive me, Elai!" The merchant's fading lips whispered.
The gray-haired man pushed his son from the gangway to the shore and swung his self-gnawed hand again. He swung and fell headfirst into the sea waves - fell already dead. But this time, the pirates were prepared, and not a single drop of cursed blood fell on the crew members. Only the merchant did not aim at them. Heavy drops of enchanted blood, bypassing the pirates huddled at one side, flew precisely where the old merchant must have prayed in his dying curse. They fell on the shackles binding the rowers. The magic of the chain, restraining the slaves and depriving them of some of their strength, disappeared instantly, and the shackles quietly unlocked. The pirates, busy with their injuries, cursed so loudly that they didn't notice what was happening behind their backs.
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"And you, spawn of a bitch!" The captain yelled. "Catch him!" He pointed at the merchant's son, who was running inland. "Bring that creature alive! He will answer for his father's magic!"
Immediately, four of the corsairs nearest to the gangway jumped ashore, unsheathing their blades.
"Stop, bastard!" The strongest of the four, a Bronze/Steel mage, yelled and ran forward. The other three followed him.
While the other pirates were watching all this, seven slaves managed to get their bearings and quietly, like born killers, attacked the unsuspecting corsairs from behind.
The first Iron-ranked pirate died quickly. A warrior of full Steel, clad in some rags, appeared behind him and simply snapped his neck. No one heard the characteristic crunch over the shouting. The second pirate also parted with life silently. A foreign palm covered his mouth, and the second, slipping behind his belt, bared a dagger and thrust it into the temple of the sea robber. The third corsair also died quickly, but the fall of his body had already attracted attention.
"What the...?" began one of the pirate mages of incomplete Steel, who turned back. "Ala..."
He didn't have time to finish. A sword seized just a couple of seconds ago and changed owner, pierced the mage's throat, cutting through the cervical vertebrae. No potion can heal such wounds, and even the "Enhanced Body" won't help.
Not even twenty seconds had passed, and the pirates had already lost six fighters, two of whom were the elite of the team. It seemed that the corsairs were finished, and the unexpected attack of the slaves, supported by the healer's dying curse, would give the rowers a quick victory. But it was far from it. Piracy is a perilous trade. People with poor reactions don't last long in this "profession." They simply end up feeding the fish or crabs at the bottom of the sea.
The risen slaves were in the majority, and they had the element of surprise on their side, as well as the pirates being weakened by the curse. But they were naked, unarmed, and tired from hours of rowing. The corsairs, on the other hand, were fully equipped, on their ship, rested, full of strength, and for many of them, quelling slave rebellions was a routine task.
What was happening before my eyes was undoubtedly a great chance to escape from the island. Regardless of how this galley revolt ends, those who ultimately become its winners will certainly try to leave Gnur as soon as possible. No one would want to stay near the shores of the Defiled Island for long. I just needed to pick the right side. Because if I choose the losers, the winners will not take me aboard and most likely will simply cut me down as an enemy. And they will be entirely right, as only the victor gets everything, as is often the case in life.
As a mere observer for now, I could soberly assess the strength and chances of both sides, and my calculations and conclusions did not bode well for those who had started the rebellion. They will undoubtedly lose. Equipment, potions, alchemy, as well as the fact that the pirates were used to fighting side by side, covering each other, and were a real team, left no chance for the rebels. The slaves, of course, will resist desperately, but in the end, most of them will not even be killed. They won't be slain but herded back into shackles: slaves on a galley are a valuable resource. The only question was whether the pirates would be so weakened due to the battle that they wouldn't try to enslave me, stripping me to the bone beforehand. There was a lot of uncertainty with this. But a decision had to be made, and it had to be made quickly!
Just as I had chosen a side in the conflict, fate turned everything around as if mocking me. The merchant's son, who had escaped at the very beginning of the skirmish, ran straight to my hiding place. He saw an unfamiliar warrior, fully clad in armor, and froze like a frightened hare. But the mage of incomplete Steel, who jumped out after him, showed a much better reaction. The mage's mind had not yet fully assessed the changed disposition, but his experienced fighter's reflexes were already working full throttle, and a fireball began to form in his palm. And he would have had time to throw it at me if there weren't just two meters between us.
"Ha!" With a sharp exhale, I transitioned from a semi-lying position into a deep lunge.
My obsidian tip answered me with the sound of piercing through the pirate mage's eye socket.
As the dead body, dressed in a red hanfu, fell onto the rocks, three remaining pursuers jumped out from behind the rocks. A couple of warriors of Iron and one Bronze. Two auras, "Perception" and "Acceleration," were working at full power for me, while the opponents, it seemed, used only speed enhancement to catch up with the runaway. This is what doomed the first of them, and he simply didn't have time to react to my strike. The tip, sharper than a surgical scalpel, cut through his jugular vein with one of its edges, and on the return swing, when the enemy opened up even more, it split his larynx.
The remaining enemies were experienced fighters who had been through more than one skirmish. None of them panicked, no one made a stupid mistake. They instantly spread out, taking a step to surround me from two sides. And on the second motion of their legs, they struck simultaneously. I would undoubtedly have been in a very tight situation in this case if I did not possess the memory of the "future," and my morality had not changed under its influence. On Earth, it would never have occurred to me to act as I did now. But the current me was a hundred times tougher and more cynical than the one who had been taken from home by questers less than a month ago.
A shoulder nudges into the side of the young man, frozen like a rabbit at the sight of a boa constrictor. And the merchant's son unwillingly rushes onto the sword of one of the pirates, giving me a couple of much-needed seconds. The rotation of the spear deflects the blade of the second corsair, and this same rotation ends with an attack on the groin. As I was taught by numerous teachers, from Ronin to Ender, any defense is an attack! The corsair stops the threat with a lower fan block of his sword, but it was a feint. He manages to see the real attack, but there's nothing he can do about it, and the wootz dagger gifted by Larindel, piercing the single-layer chainmail, effortlessly cuts through the light gambeson behind it and fully enters the pirate's heart.
The last of the four pursuers pushes the merchant's son, bleeding from a wound in his back, aside and launches into an attack. A brave act. Brave and foolish. He's Iron, and I'm full Bronze. Twice the wood of Tal clashes with the dark bronze of the enemy's sword. But the third time, the metal can't keep up with the wood. For Iron, this pirate was very good! And against a regular Bronze warrior, he might even have had some slim chances. But not against me. A strike, and, with a kick, I send the now-dead body on a short flight onto the rocks below.
And yet, I'm still far from who I will become in the "future," too sentimental. And before I myself jump down, my hand slides into the left pouch, and I throw one of the three remaining Full Recovery Potions to the boy bleeding out because of me. Incredible wastefulness. A huge mistake in battle. But I can't do otherwise. Had I not done this, the boy would have died. Died because of me, by the way. His body gave me a couple of much-needed seconds. Without even looking to see if he caught the life-saving flask or not, I jump down.
I jump from a height of six meters onto stone steps. Even in my best form on Earth, I would not have dared to attempt such a stunt, but now I knew I wasn't risking anything. My feet didn't appreciate the landing, of course. My knees groaned in protest but held up, and in the next moment, like a coiled spring, I soared up onto the gangplank that had not been dropped into the water.
Using the element of surprise and attacking from behind, I could have taken out two pirates whose backs were turned to me right away. I could have, but I chose differently. Strategy in any battle is more important than gaining a local tactical advantage. Following this logic, I wounded the nearest corsair with my dagger, pushed the second one into the water, and then mentally shouted:
"Kiss of Seguna!"
In a deep lunge, I reached the unprotected thigh of the galley captain. The wound turned out to be minor, just a deep scratch, essentially not dangerous for a Wootz warrior if not for the debuff it carried. Sensing the new enemy, the captain spun around but didn't have time to throw himself at me. Immediately, three half-naked bodies jumped onto his shoulders from behind. All three who attacked the captain were merely Iron. "Peace to your ashes and your courageous act!" I mentally thanked these brave souls and hurried to distance myself from such a dangerous enemy.
The "Kiss of Seguna" has a critical flaw: it doesn't act instantly. This curse gradually drains the Spirit reserves of the enemy wounded by it. And the key word here is "gradually."
Taking two chopping hits to the breastplates of my armor, blocking a stab to the left leg with my dagger, warding off another attacker with my spear, I jumped off the gangplank onto the shore.
I was hoping to draw some of the pirate crew's strength onto myself, four or five people, and then repeat the feat of the ancient Roman warrior. Running away, using my knowledge of the island, stretch out the pursuers in a line and then, abruptly turning around, kill them one by one. But my plan went awry. Instead of a group of four or five ordinary fighters, only one warrior jumped down to me, the same bald pirate boatswain, a warrior of full Steel. An opponent on the level of Ender.
"Who are you?" he bellowed, immediately delivering a double strike.
In his hands, like fan blades running at maximum speed, two short cutlasses are spinning. Convenient weapon in a fight on a cramped ship deck. From the way he moves, from how quickly his blade is rotating, I clearly understand - I can't handle him. And it's not so much that he's Steel and I'm Bronze. The point is that he's an experienced duelist. And I don't yet measure up to such a status, even despite the "memory of the future."
I have only one chance to survive. A foul trick. Absolutely unfair. For such a thing in tournaments, you'll be banished, a "black mark of disgrace" will be hung on you, and you'll never be allowed into any of Ain's arenas again.
But we are not in a tournament. This is a fight. A slaughter without rules and honor. Therefore, I quickly answer his question:
"I'm from Earth and was brought to Ain by questers!"
The Sacred barrier struck the boatswain like an attack of an experienced mental mage. His eyes clouded over, his legs buckled for a moment, and the cutlasses in his hands slowed their rotation. This fighter is too experienced; he will recover quickly and won't fall for this trick a second time.
A second time… Which he won't have. The tip of the dark obsidian enters under his chin and appears from the top of the boatswain's head.
"Discharge!"
And the bald head of the recently alive and powerful enemy bursts like an overripe watermelon, freeing my weapon. If Lan Lin had seen this fleeting duel, I'm sure the girl, biting her lip, would have scornfully said something like: "That was despicable!" or "How could you do such a thing?!" Perhaps, in a sense, she would be right, but I don't care. The main thing is that I'm alive, and my opponent, falling into the water, is sent to feed the crabs.
My subsequent attack on the rear of the pirate formation disrupts it. There are already fewer of them than the rebel slaves. If the pirates had fought with full strength from the start instead of wanting to preserve the lives of their rowers initially, they would have quelled the rebellion, and my help would not have changed anything. But it was the reluctance to kill valuable slaves at the start of the uprising that doomed the corsairs. The broken formation and my attack from behind turned the tide of the battle.
I attacked from a distance, shamelessly using the advantage in weapon length, and retreated immediately. I circled like a wasp, and when I saw a gap, I stung it instantly. I was worried about the pirate captain, whom I somehow didn't see. Therefore, my attacks were sharp, unexpected, and even when they didn't reach their target, I still jumped back. "Kiss," "Discharge," Rune of Des – everything I knew came into play during this battle. And five minutes after the pirate formation broke, the last corsair fell dead onto the bloody deck of the galley.
But where is the pirate captain?
Jumping onto the narrow planks of the galley's side, I saw Tongar Vano. Or rather, I saw his body. In some incredible way, that trio of slaves had literally bitten him to death! Three Iron rank fighters, sacrificing their lives, ripped the throat of a Wootz warrior! A feat worthy of legends. Without any sarcasm, it's an act deserving of a song!
Two heroes are already dead, and one still breathes. He breathes, but nothing can help him now. Not even a Full Restoration Potion can heal wounds like his. If he were an earthling with an "Enhanced Body," there might have been a chance. But without this achievement, wasting potions on someone so grievously wounded would only be throwing away precious resources.
The mortally wounded man convulses, and his eyes turn skyward. Dirty, with broken nails, in rags, a thick red beard growing up to his eyebrows, with at least three fatal wounds, a real hero is ready to give his last breath to this world. But before life leaves his body, my hands pour a life-saving Full Restoration Potion into his mouth.
I recognized him. He was the fifth member of our group. The one who had "sent far" the questers, left us in Unudo and then sailed off somewhere into the ocean.
[1] TLN: In the original, the god is named Debt, but since this word has a well-known meaning in English related to money, I replaced it with something a little more foreign while keeping the naming logic.