As soon as Myra burst out of the barrel, Johnatan's face twisted in frustration.
"Myra! What do you think you're doing?"
he scolded, his voice firm and stern.
"You can't just sneak onto the ship without permission!"
His words came out sharper than he intended, reflecting his concern over the unexpected situation.
Myra, sensing the disappointment in Johnatan's tone, quickly adopted a pleading expression.
"Please, Johnatan,"
she begged, her voice small and earnest.
"Don't send me back. I promise I won't be a burden. I just... I want to see more of the world, and I can help! Really, I can!"
Her eyes widened, looking as innocent and persuasive as possible.
Johnatan let out a deep sigh, rubbing his temples as if trying to relieve the sudden stress Myra's antics had caused.
"I guess we have no choice, then,"
he muttered, exhaling heavily as he tried to reconcile his frustration with Myra's eager determination. His shoulders slumped, a sign of reluctant acceptance.
Laron, who had been silently observing the exchange, stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on Johnatan's shoulder.
"Maybe it's not such a bad thing to have her along,"
he suggested.
"Having a water dragon with us could be useful, especially while we're at sea."
Johnatan glanced at Laron, his brow furrowed in thought.
"But how will we inform everyone back on the island? They'll start worrying when they realize she's missing."
Myra piped up with a confident smile,
"Oh, don't worry about that! Lemes helped me sneak onto the ship. I'm sure he'll explain everything to them. He promised he wouldn't let anyone worry too much."
Johnatan sighed again, shaking his head.
"Lemes, that old softie,"
he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile playing on his lips. He turned back to Myra, his expression softening slightly.
"Alright, you can stay. But you need to listen and follow orders. No more sneaking around, understood?"
Myra nodded enthusiastically, her earlier fear replaced with relief and excitement.
"I promise, I'll be good!"
With that, the tension on the deck eased, and everyone returned to their tasks, preparing for the long journey ahead. Johnatan stood at the helm, watching as the island of Silver Vale slowly disappeared from view, his mind already turning to the adventures and challenges that lay ahead on the open sea.
The ship sailed steadily across the calm sea, its crew vigilant and alert. As they navigated through the open waters, Lot, one of the warriors, squinted into the distance.
"Master, I see something!"
he called out, pointing towards the horizon.
"A ship, not too far away. Look at that flag!"
Johnatan followed Lot's gaze and spotted the unmistakable black flag with a skull and crossbones flapping in the wind—a Jolly Roger. His expression turned serious.
"Pirates,"
he muttered, recognizing the classic symbol of lawlessness and danger.
As the two ships drew closer, the crew could make out a group of ragged-looking men aboard the pirate ship, armed to the teeth and eyeing them with malicious intent.
Johnatan turned to Laron, his curiosity piqued.
"Who are these people?"
he asked, keeping his voice low but firm.
"Do you know anything about them?"
Laron nodded, his face grim as he recalled his past.
"I remember them well,"
he began, his tone darkening.
"Back when I was a slave in Alevion, I heard stories of a group of criminals who managed to escape captivity and fled to the sea. They learned how to conceal their mana to avoid detection by Alevion's forces."
Johnatan listened intently, intrigued by Laron's knowledge.
"What do they want?"
he asked.
"Why attack us?"
"They're not just after us,"
Laron explained.
"These pirates target anyone they come across, mainly for food and gold. They're ruthless. To cover their tracks, they rob fishermen and kill them to ensure no one can report back to Alevion or anywhere else."
Johnatan's eyes widened in surprise.
"How do you know so much about them?"
he asked, impressed by Laron's detailed account.
Laron gave a small, modest shrug.
"When I was younger, during my time in Alevion, I spent a lot of time learning and researching. I wasn't like the rest of the primevals, who focused solely on brute strength and speed. I wanted to understand more about the world. That's why I was appointed as a shaman by the high chief before we were exiled in hailzard. Back when I was a kid I learned a lot from the stories of those who survived the pirates' attacks and escaped their clutches. Those stories were terrifying, but they gave me knowledge."
Johnatan nodded, appreciating Laron's wisdom.
"Well, your knowledge might just save us today. We need to be prepared for whatever these pirates throw at us."
The sea air was tense with anticipation as the pirate ship loomed closer to Johnatan's vessel. From the pirate ship, the captain, a burly man with a scraggly beard and a wicked grin, cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted,
"Oi! Surrender all your belongings now, and we might just let you live!"
His tone dripped with malice, making it clear that his promise of mercy was nothing but a lie.
Johnatan, standing calmly at the bow of his ship, grinned in an eccentric, almost childish manner.
"Okay, we'll surrender our gold and food in exchange for your mercy,"
he replied, his tone light and seemingly sincere.
Laron shot Johnatan a confused glance, his brow furrowed in disbelief.
"Come on now, you can't just hand over our belongings to these criminals!"
he protested.
Johnatan chuckled and waved a hand dismissively.
"Relax, Laron. That was sarcasm."
Laron blinked, his confusion only growing.
"Sarcasm? What's sarcasm?"
he asked, tilting his head quizzically.
"Nevermind,"
Johnatan said, still smiling.
"Just trust me on this one."
As the pirates prepared to board, many of them laughed among themselves, mocking Johnatan for being such an easy target. They thought they were dealing with a naïve and inexperienced fool. But one pirate, standing at the back of the group, stopped laughing and his face turned pale as he took a closer look at Johnatan. His eyes widened with fear, his mouth agape.
"No... it can't be..."
he stuttered, terror gripping him as he realized the truth.
Johnatan slowly walked to the edge of his ship, his expression shifting from playful to deadly serious. He began to draw his sword, a wicked grin spreading across his face.
"It's time to test this chaos damage I've acquired from my evolution,"
he declared, his voice cold and menacing.
Suddenly, a green thundering aura crackled around Johnatan, arcs of lightning dancing around him like living serpents. The air around him buzzed with raw energy, and the sea seemed to darken in response to his power. The pirates, who moments before were laughing and jeering, now stood frozen in place, their bodies trembling with fear.
With one fluid motion, Johnatan raised his sword above his head, holding it aloft in one hand, his eyes locked onto the pirates with a terrifying intensity.
"You should have chosen a different target,"
he said, his voice barely more than a whisper but carrying with it a weight of inevitability.
With a swift downward slash, Johnatan unleashed a powerful shockwave, a massive arc of energy that sliced through the sea itself. The water split apart in front of him, a deep chasm forming as the slash traveled at blinding speed towards the pirate ship. In an instant, the ship was cleaved in two, the two halves separating and beginning to drift apart, the deck splintering and cracking from the force of the attack.
The pirates were thrown into chaos, many of them knocked unconscious by the blast, while others screamed in terror as they clung to the remains of their ship. The pirate captain, still conscious but missing an arm from the slash, sat slumped at the edge of his ruined vessel, his vision blurry as he looked across the water at Johnatan, who now seemed to be standing right in front of him.
Johnatan leaned in close, his voice low and filled with a cold fury.
"Your crimes will be paid with your blood,"
he said, his eyes burning with intensity.
The captain chuckled weakly, blood dripping from his lips.
"You'll regret this... if Grand Captain Henry finds out what you did... you're finished,"
he rasped, his life slipping away with every word.
Johnatan remained unfazed, his expression unchanged.
"Is that so? Then your grand captain must also know what I am capable of after what one of my comrades does to you."
With that, Johnatan vanished, reappearing on his own ship as if he had never moved. The pirate captain's fading vision turned to see Laron standing on the deck, his hands crackling with power as he prepared a devastating attack.
Laron's voice rang out across the sea, his tone filled with righteous fury.
"Emerge Explosion!"
A massive ball of lightning and flame formed in Laron's hands before hurtling towards the remains of the pirate ship. Upon impact, it erupted in a blinding flash of light, vaporizing the entire vessel and its crew, leaving nothing behind but a few charred planks and a lingering smell of ozone.
As the light faded and the sea calmed once more, Johnatan and his crew stood in silence, the reality of what they had just done settling over them like a heavy shroud.
Back on the ship, the crew was still reeling from the intense confrontation with the pirates. The air was thick with the smell of saltwater and a faint hint of smoke from the recent battle. Johnatan stood at the bow, staring at his hand, which was clenched tightly around an object.
Slowly, he opened his grip, revealing a small, rusted compass. The design was intricate, with ornate carvings on the metal casing, and the needle inside seemed to spin wildly, defying the usual behavior of a normal compass.
"What is it?"
Laron asked, noticing the unusual object in Johnatan's hand.
Johnatan held the compass up, examining it closely before speaking.
"I took this from the pirate ship before it was vaporized. It's not just any ordinary compass. It seems... different."
Curious, Johnatan decided to ask the system to analyze the compass. After a moment, the system responded, confirming his suspicions.
"This compass isn't just for navigation,"
Johnatan explained to the others.
"It's a rare type that also sends signals to its true owner. It's like a beacon."
Everyone on board exchanged wary glances, realizing the implications of what Johnatan had just said. If the compass could send signals, then its original owner, the pirate grand captain, could be tracking them even now.
Johnatan tossed the compass to Laron, who caught it with a deft hand.
"This might help us locate the pirates' grand captain,"
Johnatan said, his voice calm but filled with a determined edge.
Laron looked down at the compass, watching as the needle continued to spin erratically before suddenly stopping, pointing firmly in one direction.
"What are you planning to do?"
Laron asked, glancing back up at Johnatan.
Johnatan's expression hardened as he addressed the group.
"Now that we've eliminated one of Henry's subordinates, there's a high possibility that we might be targeted by them. If they're going to come after us anyway, we might as well take the fight to them."
The crew nodded, understanding the logic behind Johnatan's decision. It was a bold move, but it made sense. Waiting to be attacked was not an option; they needed to confront this threat head-on.
"So,"
Johnatan continued,
"we're heading straight for the grand captain's location to settle this once and for all. We can't let them think they can hunt us down without consequence."
Laron nodded in agreement, feeling a surge of determination.
"Alright, everyone," he called out to the crew, "set sail! Follow the direction pointed by the compass!"
Far across the vast ocean, hidden from the usual trade routes and surrounded by treacherous waters, lay a massive cave island. The island, barely visible on any map, was a fortress of rock and sea—a place that few dared to approach and even fewer had ever left.
Inside the heart of this imposing island, within a cavernous chamber lit dimly by torches, sat Grand Captain Henry. He was perched on a throne carved out of the very rock, an imposing figure with a grim demeanor. His fingers tapped rhythmically on the armrests, his expression a strange blend of anger and dark amusement.
His fists clenched tightly, and his knuckles were white as his mind replayed the news he had just received. One of his best captains, along with an entire pirate ship, had been wiped out with such ease that it bordered on the unbelievable. The corner of his mouth twisted into a sneer, half anger and half an eerie smile that hinted at his bruised ego.
"They think they can challenge me,"
Henry muttered under his breath, his voice echoing through the cavern.
"They dare to come after me, to step on the name of Henry, Grand Captain of the sea?"
His eyes were fixed on a glowing map set before him, a network of lines and dots tracking the location of his ships and those that carried his mark. Among the markers was the one compass he had been following closely—the one that was now heading straight for his hidden island.
A cold chuckle escaped his lips.
"They are coming here,"
he whispered, the thought almost too tantalizing.
"The fools actually think they can take me down."
Just then, the sound of hurried footsteps echoed through the cave. One of his crew, a wiry man with a look of fear and urgency, rushed in and stopped a few paces from the throne. He bowed quickly, his breath coming in short, panicked gasps.
"Captain Henry,"
the crewman said, his voice trembling slightly,
"we've spotted an unknown ship approaching the island. It's coming straight for us!"
Henry's smile widened, a dangerous glint in his eyes.
"Good,"
he replied, his voice low and menacing.
"Let them come. I will sink every last one of them to the ocean floor."
He stood up from his throne, towering over the crewman.
"Prepare the cannons and alert all the men,"
he commanded, his voice booming.
"No one escapes from Captain Henry. They wanted a fight, and they shall have one. Let's see if they can handle what I've got waiting for them."
The crewman nodded quickly, rushing out of the chamber to carry out Henry's orders. The Grand Captain watched him leave, his grin fading into a cold, determined expression. The thrill of an impending battle coursed through his veins, a dark satisfaction settling in his chest.
He turned back to his map, eyes narrowing on the approaching marker.
"You may have taken one of my ships," Henry murmured to himself, "but you have no idea what you're up against now."
Johnatan's group approached the ominous cave, their ship gliding silently through the dark waters. The walls of the cave loomed around them, shadows twisting in the faint light that filtered through cracks in the ceiling. The air was thick with tension, and every creak of the ship seemed to echo off the stone, amplifying their presence.
Laron, standing next to Johnatan, glanced around warily.
"This feels like a trap,"
he muttered, his eyes scanning the dark cave.
Johnatan nodded, his grip tightening on his sword's hilt.
"Stay alert. We're not leaving until we find Henry."
As the ship sailed deeper into the cave, a sudden roar shattered the silence. Cannons hidden in the shadows fired in unison, sending a volley of cannonballs hurtling toward them.
In a blur of motion, Lirina leaped into action. Her daggers flashed in her hands, moving faster than the eye could follow. In an astonishing display of speed and precision, she deflected each cannonball, sending them crashing harmlessly into the water around the ship.
The pirates, hidden in the shadows above, shouted and screamed, their surprise turning to anger. Dozens of them swung down from ropes, charging toward the group's ship with a wild, reckless fury.
"Here they come!"
Laron shouted as he raised his hands, conjuring multiple fireballs. With a flick of his wrist, he sent them flying toward the attacking pirates, each explosion lighting up the cave in bursts of red and orange.
On the deck, Lyron, Lirina, Albyn, and Lot engaged the pirates in fierce combat. Despite the overwhelming numbers, the primevals fought with a calm efficiency, taking down pirates one by one with ease. The clash of steel rang out, the sounds of battle echoing off the cave walls.
One of the pirates, wide-eyed with fear, stumbled back as he saw his comrades fall.
"Primevals?"
he stuttered, his voice shaking.
"What are they doing here, and how do they know how to sail?"
His face drained of color as he realized just how outmatched they were.
While the others held the line, Johnatan moved forward, his focus on the path ahead. He could see the edge of the water, where the land began. Using his enhanced vision, he spotted a figure in the darkness—Henry.
"System, identify the man ahead,"
Johnatan commanded.
A faint glow appeared around Henry as the system scanned him. **"Subject identified: Henry. An outworlder like yourself. Reincarnated in the world of Avelon earlier than you. He once served as the Grand Marshal under Eduard Stan's rule,"** the system explained in its monotone voice.
Johnatan frowned, piecing the information together.
"A Grand Marshal turned pirate? Why would someone of his rank turn to a life of crime?"
The ship reached the water's edge, and Johnatan leaped onto the rocky shore. He sprinted toward Henry's location, his movements a blur as he dodged and struck down any pirate who dared to stand in his way. His strikes were swift and powerful, each blow sending pirates flying or crumpling to the ground, unconscious.
Finally, Johnatan reached the rocky throne where Henry sat. As he looked up, his eyes met Henry's, and he froze.
Johnatan stood there, frozen, as he stared at the man who was unmistakably his uncle Henry. The shock of seeing someone from his past life here in Avelon was overwhelming. His mind raced with questions. How could this be? What was his uncle doing here?
"Uncle Henry?"
Johnatan's voice wavered as he spoke, unable to mask his disbelief. He took a step closer, trying to comprehend the situation.
"How... how are you here? In this world?"
Johnatan's mind flashed back to a time two years ago, a memory that now felt like a lifetime ago.
Johnatan, then known as John Peters, was in a long-distance relationship with Lesley. He had grown tired of the distance between them, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. He traveled miles to find a job near Lesley's place, managing to secure a rental house close by.
One midnight, John and Lesley had an argument over chat. Tensions were high, and Lesley threatened to end her life. Knowing Lesley's character and fearing she might do something drastic, John didn't hesitate. He left his rental house in the middle of the night, traveling through the darkness to reach her.
When he arrived, he found Lesley in the living room, visibly upset. Without a second thought, he embraced her, trying to offer comfort. They stood there, holding each other in a moment of solace.
Suddenly, a door creaked open, and Henry, Lesley's uncle, stormed out of his room. He saw John and Lesley hugging and immediately flew into a rage.
"What the hell are you doing with my niece in the middle of the night?"
Henry shouted, his face red with anger. He glared at John with pure disdain, assuming the worst.
John quickly tried to explain,
"Uncle Henry, it's not what it looks like. I just came to comfort Lesley, that's all."
But Henry wasn't listening.
"I know the nature of men like you,"
he spat.
"You think you can just sneak around and take advantage of her? Not under my roof!"
John realized there was no reasoning with him. Henry had made up his mind, blinded by his prejudices. All John could do was stand there, humiliated, as Henry continued to berate him in front of the entire family, who had come out to see what was happening.
Lesley, too stunned and perhaps too afraid to stand up for John, remained silent. John felt utterly humiliated, his face burning with shame and anger, but he had no choice but to apologize to Henry, knowing that anything else would only make things worse.
That night, as John walked back to his rental house in the dark, he felt a deep resentment building within him. The way Henry had treated him, judged him without knowing anything about him—it was something he couldn't forget. He hated Henry for it, yet still, out of respect for Lesley and her family, he had tried to push those feelings aside.
Johnatan's smile was chilling, a grim reflection of the satisfaction he felt as he confronted the man from his past. His heart pounded with a mixture of anticipation and anger. He had waited for this moment, a chance to face Henry again, but in a world where their conflicts could be settled with strength and not just words.
"You might not recognize me, Uncle Henry,"
Johnatan began, his voice laced with a blend of nostalgia and bitterness.
"But I'm John Peters—the one who loved your niece."
Henry's eyes widened in realization, his mind finally connecting the dots.
"Ha! So you're that bastard who tried to take advantage of my niece,"
he sneered.
"I'm impressed, this world gave you quite the makeover. You were so ugly back then, it made me sick to watch my niece, even think about having sex with you."
Johnatan's expression shifted to one of shock and disgust.
"You pervert,"
he snapped.
"Were you spying on us?!"
Henry's sneer grew wider.
"I never liked you for Lesley. You had no future, just some minimum-wage loser,"
he spat, dismissing Johnatan's anger with a wave of his hand.
Johnatan clenched his fists, trying to keep his emotions in check.
"It doesn't matter anymore. Your niece cheated on me, so there's no reason to dwell on the past."
But Henry leaned in, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.
"Oh, but you see, it was me who encouraged her to cheat,"
he revealed, his tone dripping with malice.
Johnatan's face twisted in confusion.
"What are you talking about?"
Henry grinned maliciously, enjoying the look of disbelief on Johnatan's face.
"Back when you went back to your hometown, leaving her alone, Lesley missed your presence. So I took advantage of that. I manipulated the situation, introduced her to a new guy. They fell in love, and I felt a sense of relief knowing she'd moved on from you while both of you are still in a relationship that time."
As Henry spoke, Johnatan's anger grew. His blood boiled, his heart racing. Each word Henry uttered was like fuel to the fire burning within him.
But before Henry could finish his gloating speech, Johnatan's fist flew forward with lightning speed, landing squarely on Henry's jaw. The force of the punch sent Henry crashing back into the rocky throne, shattering it into pieces. Dust and debris filled the air, obscuring the scene for a moment.
Through the settling dust, Johnatan's silhouette emerged, his posture rigid with fury. His eyes glowed a dangerous green, radiating an intense anger that seemed almost palpable. His voice was cold and commanding as he said,
"Enough talking. Let's fight already."