Steel, Explosives, and Spellcasters

Jumping from the brightly-lit open deck into the dimly-lit cabin, Winters couldn't see anything at first. Fortunately, no one took this opportunity to ambush him.

Only when his eyes adjusted to the darkness did he realize that the Good Fortune had apparently divided the lower deck into several areas.

Winters was used to wielding a two-handed sword, and only being able to grip the sailor's knife with one hand made him feel a lack of security. He drew his dagger again and, imitating the admiral's style, held blades in both hands as he explored into the darkness.

A heavy thud came from behind – Winters tensed and turned, ready to swing his knife, but the person who had jumped down said, "Wait, it's me."

The light filtering in through the hatch was too dim to see clearly, but Winters recognized the voice all too well – it was Bard.

"Let's go up together," Bard said, following him in a low voice.

Winters nodded and continued to explore ahead – having someone cover your back was always reassuring.

After entering the cabin from the rear entrance, they saw several compartments on the left and right that appeared to be used by those of higher status on the ship. A narrow path was left in the middle, only wide enough for one person to pass through.

Winters smelled blood, and in one of the compartments, he found a corpse. Clearly, the admiral and Andre had already broken through here.

Moving forward, he kicked open another cabin door, which led to an open area.

No longer separated by wooden partitions, the entire cabin was one large room with big holes in the cabin walls. The floor was filled with people dressed in rags like beggars, with the pungent stench of acid and decay hitting their nostrils.

The admiral and Andre were in the middle of the cabin. The admiral's movements were not flashy, even somewhat simple: a parry with the left arm, a stab with the right.

But with the admiral's extraordinary strength, these simple moves became the most efficient means of killing. He used his left sword to deflect a scimitar coming head-on, then with a stab and a twist of his right hand, a pirate was screaming as he was knocked down.

No one aboard the ship was a match for the admiral alone. The pirates, lacking spears and not skilled in combined attacks, were forced to retreat repeatedly.

Andre, standing next to the admiral, hardly had a chance to strike; he struggled to keep pace, protecting the admiral from being attacked by multiple pirates at once.

Still, several pirates were using the width of the ship to try to circle behind the admiral and Andre.

Winters and Bard's arrival was impeccably timed, for if they had truly been surrounded, even with their superior swordsmanship, the admiral and Andre would have been helpless. They could rush to this point because the pirates had been intimidated by the admiral's ferocity, and both men had been driving pirates before them on the way here – no need to worry about what was behind them.

Winters let out a roar, drawing the attention of the pirates and signaling to the two ahead that reinforcements had arrived. The pirates who had been circling to get behind the admiral and Andre, hearing Winters, abandoned their targets and rushed toward him instead.

A single-handed sword often required a small shield or a parrying dagger, but Winters's dagger lacked a guard and was of no use in blocking; holding it was more a psychological comfort than anything else.

However, when the pirates charged at Winters wielding his scimitar and dagger, they hesitated, their hearts uneasy, but they steeled themselves and met him head-on.

The pirates' attack was simple – a savage chop from upper left to lower right.

As for Winters, the sailor's knife was both his weapon and his shield. The deck was crowded with emaciated rowers, leaving no room to dodge, so Winters met the pirate's blade with his own.

In that moment, he understood Instructor Nal's lesson: on the battlefield, nothing was more useful than immense strength.

As the two scimitars clashed, how could the pirate, who did not eat or train as well as a well-fed, well-trained cadet, compete in strength? He was directly overpowered by Winters's blade strike.

Winters instinctively used a longsword technique and cut into the pirate's center line. The cabin was filled with rowers with no space for Winters to step forward, so he directed his blade at the pirate's right arm.

The weapons aboard the Bandit Gull were poorly maintained; the sailor's knife in Winters's hand was not particularly sharp, but for this reason, it bit into the flesh even more deeply. When he struck the pirate, Winters resolutely dragged his blade, leaving a deep gash that exposed the bone in the pirate's arm.

The pirate screamed in agony, dropping his knife and stumbling backward, clutching his wound. If this were a swordsmanship contest, Winters would have scored an elegant two points with that move. But this cabin was a battlefield, and crippling a pirate's hand didn't take his life.

"Hold them! Have you be my crew!" a voice cried out with a thick Tanilian accent, "or I'll kill you all!"

Winters didn't understand who was being addressed, then realized the pirates were coercing the rowers. He surveyed the sorry rowers – some averted their gaze in fear, while others showed desperation and greed in their eyes.

With at least thirty rowers in the cabin, if even a third were incited to action, the four officers there were in danger.

Every rower in the cabin was now a potential enemy. Winters shouted back, "The pirates are finished! Those who are not pirates, stay seated! Move, and you will be killed without hesitation!" He and Bard stepped over the seated rowers and strode towards the admiral and Andre, trying to move away from that area.

"Don't just sit there, you scum! Do you want to die?" the voice with the Tanilian accent bellowed again.

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