Chapter 72

The closer the small boat carrying the old fisherman came, the thicker the despair that settled over the deck.

“It’s really the Whale…”

“Niko’s here…”

An unidentifiable murmur sparked an explosion of chaos.

Mixed with the lingering effects of alcohol, a hint of madness began to ripple.

People ran across the deck in a panic, utterly terrified.

“Hey, navigator! Navigator! Speed up!”

“Lower the lifeboats, the lifeboats—!”

“No, no, first turn the bow…”

Words blurted out in urgency tangled together.

Even the gold-toothed Kifkos was frozen in shock.

The only one relatively unshaken was Shion Pollinglight.

The blue-eyed Regressor cleared his throat and shouted.

“Everyone, calm down first—.”

A deafening explosion.

A resounding Kwa-ang echoed.

The medium-sized ship, carrying dozens, rocked like a roly-poly.

Raging waves swept over the deck.

Liquor and plates were washed away, along with a few people.

‘Fantasy Finger.’

Had it not been for Shion’s Ars, they would have fallen into the sea.

Splinters of wood scattered.

Shock, screams, groans.

A cacophony of despair.

In the tilted field of vision along the floor, something appeared.

Rising from the broken deck, a massive man who had leapt aboard like a cannonball.

A white beard tinged with salt.

Huge hands and feet, like barrels.

The unmistakable Whale of Hobel Bay.

Niko Nereyades, Commander of the 11th Legion.

He held a massive oar in one hand.

An oar so large it would take twenty men to row, bigger and heavier than an average log.

Yet the old fisherman gripped it with one hand, showing no sign of strain.

“…”

“…”

“…”

The man waited.

He waited calmly for the tilted ship to regain balance and for the chaos to subside.

His low, rumbling voice pierced clearly through the silence.

The silence, laced with fear, grew heavier.

“A fine ship.”

Though the ship had rocked like a roly-poly and waves had swept over, not all traces of the lavish feast had vanished.

Expensive liquor bottles from Maesh rolled about, and crystal glasses lay shattered in pieces.

“You’ve done well, Centurion Kifkos.”

“…Commander Nereyades.”

Kifkos was trembling.

He wanted to act bold in front of his men and wife, but his body wouldn’t obey.

Even staying upright drained his strength.

Niko spoke without caring about Kifkos’s trembling.

“Who do you think made your success possible?”

Gold-toothed Kifkos bit his lip.

He didn’t want to answer, but he had to.

“…Of course, it’s thanks to you, Commander.”

“Then where are you going?”

“…”

Niko tapped the deck with the back of the oar.

Tang! The sound made Kifkos flinch.

A light tap, yet the iron-plated deck dented.

Niko asked again.

“I asked where you’re going.”

“After working so long, I’m taking a vacation…”

“With all your wealth?”

“…”

There was no way to answer.

Not just Kifkos—nobody could move.

Niko Nereyades was an old man, a head and two spans taller than most, with disproportionately large hands and feet.

Those hands, like banquet plates, easily gripped the massive oar.

Those feet, with each step, thundered like a beast’s, leaving deep footprints.

Anyone stepped on by those feet would be crushed like a leaf.

“Centurion Kifkos.”

“…Yes, Commander.”

“How long were you under me?”

“I joined as a soldier at fifteen, became a centurion at twenty-two, so about seven years and some.”

“Quite a long time.”

They hadn’t interacted much directly.

With sixty-two centurions in the 11th Legion, they only met for important missions or routine meetings.

Without post-retirement dealings, his name might have been forgotten.

“Were you close with Chief of Staff Bukenos?”

“…We were in the same century as soldiers. Gloriosus too.”

“Bukenos said so.”

Niko stroked his thick beard.

“He suggested giving you a chance, for old times’ sake.”

“…”

“Turn the ship around.”

Niko glared at Kifkos.

“Go back to Sillemol and fulfill your role. If you do, I’ll overlook this.”

“…No, even so…”

“I can’t hear you. Speak louder.”

“…I mean, it’s just…”

Kifkos mumbled.

His five gold teeth gleamed, and Niko roared.

“Speak up—!!!”

The thunderous shout rang out.

The gold-toothed man collapsed.

He tried to stand but fell again, his legs weak.

His chin hit the deck, painfully.

He wanted to stay down.

“Stand up!!”

Tang, came the sound.

Niko struck the deck with the oar’s back.

Kifkos stood instinctively.

Even in the 11th Legion, no matter how exhausted, Niko’s tang made him stand.

…Damn it, does he still think I’m his centurion?

Kifkos cursed inwardly.

He couldn’t say it aloud.

No matter his feelings, old memories and habits stiffened his body first.

He stood straight, back rigid.

He felt pathetic, like a clueless recruit, humiliated.

Gold-toothed Kifkos, a big shot in Sillemol, reduced to this in front of his men and woman!

“Kifkos.”

“…”

Niko didn’t care about the gold-toothed man’s shame.

He roared at his former subordinate, who didn’t respond.

“—Kifkos!”

“…Yes!”

“You sold Amrita, and I turned a blind eye. In return, you reported on Sillemol’s affairs and handed over the names of bad actors. It wasn’t a hard task.”

Kifkos’s face flushed beyond words.

The big shot of Sillemol was exposed as a lackey for the 11th Legion.

In front of his men and wife.

“…”

The gold-toothed man couldn’t bear to look back.

He feared imagining the eyes on him.

Contempt, probably.

Anger, too.

If they thought him a fool, he’d be furious.

But the worst…

‘…Please, don’t pity me. Don’t think of this gold-toothed Kifkos as a pitiful man!’

He didn’t want to look, but he couldn’t not look.

Kifkos’s eyes slowly turned.

To the most beautiful woman in Sillemol, at least in his unwavering belief—Ofenia.

But, damn it, look at those tender eyes.

Those black pearl-like eyes, mixed with pity, as if it could be so!

What’s the point of living if his woman pities him?

Kifkos gritted his gleaming gold teeth.

“…I can’t… do it…”

“A voice unworthy of a Hobel Bay man.”

“I said I can’t do it, you old man!”

Kifkos shouted at the top of his lungs.

A voice worthy of a Hobel Bay man.

“What’s so easy about it!”

Gold-toothed Kifkos’s Ars, Stalwart Guts.

With enough grit, he wouldn’t shrink even before Niko Nereyades.

If he had the grit!

Ofenia’s eyes held admiration, and Kifkos, empowered, clenched his fist.

“Meddling in every deal, telling me to sell out those I shared meals with! I couldn’t stand it anymore, so I took my family and ran!”

Niko listened quietly.

Kifkos vented his rage.

He looked ready to punch Niko Nereyades’s jaw.

“I’ll say what I must, even if it kills me. There’s a limit to treating people like fools! Wasn’t it a deal? You got your share, I got mine—why drag it out? Just kill me!”

“Alright, then.”

The Whale of Hobel Bay stepped forward.

“I understand your intentions.”

With his massive feet, his strides were wide.

Three steps, and he was already in Kifkos’s face.

“I’ll do as you wish.”

“Uh…”

Kifkos stepped back instinctively.

Ars, grit, whatever—facing Niko up close, the fear was overwhelming.

“…I, uh, Commander… I didn’t mean kill me literally, just an expression of will…”

“Don’t say things you can’t take responsibility for.”

Niko held the oar.

A shortened handle from a massive galley oar, still twice Kifkos’s height.

Raised by Niko Nereyades, it carried the momentum to split the ship in two.

And he seemed intent on doing just that.

“Go like a Hobel Bay man, Centurion Kifkos.”

“That’s right, Big Brother. Go like a Hobel Bay man.”

A voice interrupted, and the oar poised to split the ship stopped.

Niko tilted his head.

Something invisible held his oar.

It took considerable force to shake it off.

There was no sign of mana surging.

And this strange sensation—an Ars.

Niko Nereyades glared at the blue-eyed boy.

“A kid I’ve never seen.”

“Let me introduce myself. I’m Big Brother Kifkos’s bodyguard. I’m new.”

“A bodyguard.”

Shion Pollinglight let out a chuckling laugh.

“…Pasionus.”

Kifkos, under protection, muttered Shion’s alias.

“Just trust me, Big Brother!”

Shion winked at the gold-toothed man, urging him to play along.

“I’ll send this old man packing in no time!”

Niko stroked his beard.

He looked Shion up and down.

A young man’s build, a boy’s face.

At most fifteen, maybe eighteen.

“You’re making things difficult.”

The Whale of Hobel Bay didn’t hide his slight annoyance.

Did he really think he could stop him, the Commander of the 11th Legion of Cordis?

There’s a limit to foolishness.

Or did he have some hidden secret?

“You’re too young to pay the price for recklessness.”

“Don’t underestimate me because I’m young, old man. Recklessness or vigor—doesn’t strength settle it?”

“Old man, huh.”

Niko, studying Shion’s face, snorted.

He felt a faint sense of familiarity in his features.

But Shion had already bought a magical device in Sillemol to slightly alter his appearance.

All that remained was a generic impression—blond hair, blue eyes, shared by over half of Cordis’s population.

“I had a granddaughter your age…”

The oar moved.

“…once.”

A whoosh arrived slightly late.

The deck shattered, and the air trembled.

Niko Nereyades swung the oar fiercely, but it missed.

Shion Pollinglight made it miss.

“They say old age makes you impatient. Swinging an oar without warning?”

“Hm.”

Niko showed slight surprise.

It was a surprise strike.

Not meant to kill, but to send someone flying into the sea.

He thought Shion wouldn’t even know what hit him, yet he dodged easily.

Niko’s eyes began to gleam heavily.

“Don’t be shocked already.”

Shion chuckled, a bit childishly playful.

“You’re about to be even more surprised.”

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