“You… You were the one who did all this, weren’t you?” the pirate admiral growled. “That Ruby-Core was weak. A pushover like him couldn’t be the one to make this mess. Who the fuck are you?”

  Eri didn’t reply. Instead, he carefully studied the man. His Observation Skill searched even for the most minute weakness in his armour.

  There was none. Save for the slits in his face — so tiny that not even his smallest daggers could slip into — the man was impenetrable. Maybe the Hollowfang’s Fourth Art, [Life-Emptying Crucible], could cut through the diamond-like exterior, but even then it would be a gamble.

  A fruitless idea. In the first place, he had no mana left to perform any magic. Save, perhaps, for his Bloodflames Artes.

  Demonic arcana did not rely on the Goddess Core. The magic came from a more primordial source, and so it was not dependent on his body’s available stores of mana to function. The difference was why Eri had been able to use it against Gunther or the Hydras at the port, even when his body had been pushed past the point of exhaustion.

  But using it now was almost certain suicide. The Bloodflame Artes were not subtle. Their activation alone would result in an outpouring of corruption. Everyone nearby — those on the frigate, those on the biovore corvette, and even those on the imperial island nearby — would instantly sense the power of the Damned flooding from him.

  What else did he have? Weapons aplenty, but none that were effective against his opponent. Aiming for the usual weak points — joints, eyes, neck — was useless.

  Gas could be a solution. The man still needed to breathe and see, judging by the slits around his crystalline face mask. The problem was that Eri did not possess a powerful enough poison or acid in gaseous form to put down a Sapphire Core. He could slow him, certainly, but that was the limit of what he was capable of.

  Eri had prepared stores of potent poisons specifically for putting down Jewelled Cores — the vials of Basilisk Venom chief among them. But all of it relied on his stabbing the target with a poisoned dagger. None of it was worth a damn if he couldn’t get them into the enemy’s bloodstream.

  “Are you fucking mute?!” The pirate roared. His mana grew more agitated. “Talk, damn you! Give me your name so I’ll know who to butcher next! Are you part of those Coalition dogs? Or are you a rival corsair stupid enough to attack me while I’m raiding a fucking Imperial outpost? Because in case you forget, the truce between our lords is still in effect!”

  A truce between the pirate lords? “I didn’t think corsairs held enough honour to keep to their dealings,” Eri taunted.

  “So you can talk. And if you’re saying idiotic shit like that, it means you are not one of us,” the pirate spat. “Northern dog… No matter. I’ll break your limbs. Keep you breathing for the rest of my crew to play with. Then, once you are properly broken, I’ll have you sold to the flesh laboratories. Lord Oleander would appreciate fresh meat to work with.”

  “I’ll pass on the offer,” Eri said, shifting into an unarmed stance. With blades being useless, he had to trust in his Unarmed Skill to pull through. “Enough talking. Come and die.”

  “Cheeky fuck…” The admiral chuckled darkly.

  Without warning, the crystalline pirate blurred forth.

  The corsair’s punch was perfectly executed. Low-stanced and backed with a ridiculous burst of strength, the air in the ship’s belly rippled at the strike.

  Eri’s Core was strained, but it was not yet entirely dry. A small trickle of mana had been restored from Eri’s emergency stimulants. He would be crippled for days after the battle — assuming he lived — but for the moment, it meant he had enough to enable his Goddess-given superhuman speed.

  Eri shifted to the side, hips low and feet apart, as the fist missed him by inches. His hands grabbed the pirate’s arm while his feet violently kicked the back of the corsair’s knee.

  The impact hurt his foot like hell, but Eri managed to trip him. The admiral tilted over, falling far faster than Eri anticipated. He was unbelievably heavy — the crystals on him dense beyond any natural quartz. They both crashed to the deck, with Eri barely avoiding being crushed. Swiftly avoiding a back elbow strike, Eri caught the arm and pinned it with clever positioning, one knee at his shoulder blade, one hand pressing the elbow flat to the ground.

  He strained with all his might, hoping to snap the arm. But no matter how his Core burned, nothing gave. His leverage was worthless before the pirate’s strength.

  “Weakling. Did you think that would work?!” The pirate laughed as he punched the deck, mana blooming in his fist. The sheer force of the concussive blow threw Eri off. His heart pounded as he saw death approach — a crystalline knee heading straight for his face.

  He would have died in the next moment had he not pulled out a greatshield from his spatial pouch in time. The arcane shielding immediately overloaded on impact. Eri was sent flying, smashing hard against the ceiling.

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  The youth coughed blood, heaving heavily. There was no time to relax or recover. Driven purely by instinct, Eri leapt away as the admiral jumped up and almost punched a hole through the reinforced ceiling.

  Falling away, Eri took out the only weapon that proved effective thus far: the acid gas pellets. Stinging gas soon filled the space around them.

  The admiral cursed and coughed, but was undeterred, charging at him once more. This time, however, the punches were less accurate, the movements slower. Eri’s superior speed allowed him more room to dodge, but it wasn’t going to last forever. The gas was not strong enough to kill the admiral, and judging from how the pirate was speeding up his punches, it appeared his Sapphire-Core body was adapting quickly to the poison.

  Eri realised he was going to die at this rate. Desperate, the youth took the momentary reprieve from the pirate’s sloppy punches and sought to read the description the System was providing for him, hoping for any information that could help him.

  \-\

  Admiral Vimmel Rann

  Lvl 124 Crystal Juggernaut

  A Jewelled Admiral who rules from a powerful modified frigate. A heartless slaver through and through, the man named Rann rose from a lowly powder runner to a mighty fleet Admiral in the course of a hundred years, killing and enslaving countless thousands along the way. Stories have it he slew the Archon of the Young Deep Islands, Marquis Andrealphus, in single combat when he was but a Gold Core. After which, the man ate its heart, gaining the immortal crystal scales of the legendary beast, as well as the power to rapidly ascend to Sapphire-Core in under six decades.

  The first part is half-truth: the Archon was technically ‘defeated’ by Rann, though not in single combat. The second part is definitely not true: Eating demon hearts does not grant superpowers. Do not attempt this.

  \-\

  The information was not as helpful as Eri had hoped. Level 124 meant the Admiral was a relatively new Sapphire Core, but that knowledge was little comfort when a single punch would still be more than enough to kill Eri in his current state.

  There was, however, one notable exception.

  The Marquis Andrealphus. The 54th Favoured of Hell. Eri remembered. The demon of the geometric stars. Their crystal scales are almost indestructible, but the damn peacock always had one weakness…

  An idea hit Eri. It was risky, but there were few other options.

  A brief lull in the fighting allowed the two to leap back from each other. Eri quickly injected more stimulants while the admiral coughed wetly, expelling the acid from his mouth and nose.

  “You are fast, I’ll give you that,” the pirate hissed. “More than twice as fast as my best Silver Cores. Normally, I would give you a chance to surrender and join my crew, but that’s not in the cards. Not for what you did. The elites loaned to me are dead. The frigate is ruined! I’m fucked! Lord Drake is never going to forgive me! This was her goddamn ship! Do you know what she’ll do to me once she sees this?!”

  Lord Drake? Eri frowned. “You are a direct subordinate of one of the Four Pirate Lords?”

  That explained the ridiculous size of the ship and the strength of those elite Chosens on board. The vessel had been closer to a galleon than a frigate, and the durability of the hull spoke of potent enchantments unseen in its weight class.

  This must have been one of the personal warships of the Pirate Lords. Those elites earlier were likely part of the permanent crew who guarded the vessel for them.

  And now the ship was damaged, and the elites were dead. No wonder the admiral was terrified.

  Pirate Lords were not the forgiving sort.

  “You blindly attacked my ship without even knowing who it belonged to?” The pirate was taken aback. “What kind of fool are you?!”

  “To be fair, I just got to the West recently. I’m not very familiar with the local small fries yet,” Eri replied evenly.

  “Small fry?” The man started giggling. Apparently, the absurdity of the situation broke him. “I thought one of my rivals might have diverted you here, hoping to put me down in the eyes of our Queen. But no, you are just an idiot.

  He stopped laughing. “I am Admiral Rann. Slayer of the Crystal Roc. Third Mate of Lord Elizabeth Drake, the Voyager of the Wild Hunt. I swear on salt and blood, I’ll carve those words on your back, so all those who use you will know who you were stupid enough to mess with.”

  Lord Elizabeth Drake… Eri knew that name well. He doubted there was anyone in the Slaver Isles who didn’t.

  Four Pirate Lords currently terrorise the waters of the West. Lord Augustus was the most well-known, for he ‘sailed’ upon an ancient flying dreadnought known as the Sun Garden. Then there was Lord Baroque, commanding the largest pirate fleet in the West with his volcanic shipyard-dreadnought, the Iron Cage. Most feared among the four was undoubtedly Lord Oleander, a supposed mad scientist who conducts vile experiments on his leviathan-corpse dreadnought, the Despoiled Canticle.

  Last, and somewhat least, was Lord Drake, the elusive female Admiral of the ghost-ship dreadnought, the Flying Hind.

  The first three Pirate Lords held infamous reputations, their deeds both legendary and reviled. The information Eri and Peythra had gathered on them filled entire shelves, and thus countermeasures could be prepared.

  But Lord Drake? There was barely anything on her except her name, ship, and status as a Pirate Lord.

  No matter how much Eri and Peythra searched, they could find nothing else. Not her deeds, Chosen rank, abilities, or even how long she had been a Pirate Lord.

  “If you are who you claim you are, then I have many questions for you,” Eri said, shifting into a stance as he lifted his bare hands, palms facing outwards. “Unfortunately, I don’t think I’m in a position to take you alive, so I suppose I’ll have to settle for whatever I can pry from your corpse. Unless you are inclined to surrender peacefully?”

  The Admiral snicked. He then burst into uncontrolled hysterical laughter.

  “Thought not,” Eri smiled.

  The admiral charged at the same time Eri leapt forward.