Chapitre 20: Power of a Witch!

Gripping agony and debilitating weakness gripped Ryan's heart relentlessly.

He was half-kneeling on the coarse ground, his long sword thrust into the earth for support, his left hand clutched at a gaping wound across his abdomen. Blood welled up uncontrollably between his fingers, with crimson blood dripping from his hand showing the gravity of his injury.

The slash from the pirate's machete was devastatingly large, far beyond the aid of simple first aid.

If the bleeding continued unabated, he would surely bleed to death.

Yet, despite the dire situation, Ryan's eyes remained calm, devoid of panic.

He had accepted the risk when he chose to intercept the blade; he had prepared for this moment.

With a determined gesture, he took out a handful of pure white powder into his palm, it was the "Pearl of Fertility" powder, finely ground. These were remnants from a previous treatment used on a silverback shark, barely sufficient for a human yet costing Ryan a full five spiritual points to take out.

Swiftly, he pressed the powder into his wound, tearing off a strip from his shirt to fashion a makeshift bandage around his waist. Seconds later, as the powder worked its magic, sealing the wound and stopping the flow of blood, he felt a mild itching, a sign of healing. Relieved, Ryan allowed himself a moment of respite.

"Next time, it will be the 'Necklace of Fertility,'" he mused to himself, already planning for future contingencies.

Struggling to his feet, Ryan surveyed the scene before him, his gaze settling on a decapitated corpse. The man had been a high-ranking officer aboard the notorious pirate ship, likely the first or second mate, given his formidable swordsmanship that had initially bested Ryan.

Had Ryan not adopted his reckless "Desperado" tactic, surprising his adversary, the duel might have ended differently.

Turning away from the lifeless body, Ryan's attention shifted to the virtual panel floating before him. A notification had flashed, a small gray prompt, right after he had slain the scimitar-wielding pirate, but he hadn't had the chance to read it until now.

After countless hours of diligent practice and numerous battles, Ryan's mastery of [Storm Swordsmanship] had evolved from a novice's "Get Started" to the esteemed "Master" level.

[Storm Swordsmanship (Mastery): Renowned throughout the Kingdom of Augustus, this technique embodies a relentless assault that dismantles any defense. It proves devastating to both human adversaries and monstrous foes alike, with its tempestuous flurry of strokes. You have perfected the foundational stances and complex derivatives of Storm Swordsmanship.]

Ryan stared at the virtual prompt hovering before his eyes, a mix of astonishment and elation washing over him.

His relentless daily practice, the grueling encounters with the giant crabs along the coastlines he'd ventured, and the incremental gains secured under the dire threats posed by the skull Pirates, all had culminated in this moment, breaking the boundaries of his skill into a new realm of prowess.

Unlike the sudden flashes of insight some skills provided upon leveling up, Ryan's progression in Storm Swordsmanship felt earned, a testament to his own enduring efforts and incremental learning. This subtlety was perhaps why the advancement initially eluded his notice.

With a reflective sigh, Ryan approached the shattered hatchway.

As he steadied his breathing, a profound silence enveloped him, punctuated solely by the rhythmic crash of distant waves. This eerie quietude sent a shiver through his spine, something significant had transpired outside while he battled the pirates.

Sword in hand, Ryan advanced with caution, ready to peer from the safety of the doorframe. Should he spot any sign of danger, he knew his only recourse would be a swift retreat.

At this moment, Ryan's condition was at its most precarious in memory. If another foe as formidable as the Scimitar Pirates emerged, he knew he wouldn't stand a chance.

Just as he moved to advance, a pause arrested him.

"Tick..."

A droplet of dark blue liquid fell from the door frame above, capturing his immediate attention.

Unnoticed until now, countless dark blue filaments had begun to infiltrate the space from the outside. They clung to the ground, walls, door frame, ceiling, everything within sight was rapidly ensnared by their reach.

The solitary droplet hit the ground, dispersing into a small, dark blue pool that seemed almost alive. Miraculously, the liquid began to defy gravity, swirling upward to coalesce into a slender, graceful form.

Adorned in a white dress with blue sleeves and collar, topped with a soft, tilted witch hat, and deep ice-blue eyes framed by dreamy fringes, the figure was both surreal and enchanting.

"Captain!"

Ryan exclaimed, a wave of relief washing over him as he recognized the familiar form. His tense heart finally eased.

The arrival of Freni signaled the conclusion of the professional duel, her presence meant victory.

Her gaze drifted to the headless corpse behind Ryan, a playful twinkle in her ice-blue eyes. "Mr. Ryan, it appears you're not quite as 'defenseless' as you claim," she teased.

Ryan, a bit flustered by her observation, managed a weak smile. "It was merely self-defense. He barged in, and I had no choice but to draw my sword."

As he spoke, a cough wracked his frame, blood flecking his lips.

Freni's eyes narrowed slightly as she noticed the blood-stained bandage wrapped around his abdomen. With a grace that belied her swift movement, she closed the distance between them. Before Ryan could react, her cool, soft fingers gently pressed against the wound, her touch both reassuring and startling in its intimacy.

As the dark blue spiritual light rippled around him, Ryan felt a profound warmth suffusing his body, akin to the soothing embrace of a hot spring. The discomfort was melting away, replaced by a comforting serenity.

After a timeless interval, as the warmth gradually ebated, Ryan cautiously unwrapped his bandage. To his astonishment, the skin where the deep gash had been was now smooth and unblemished, the defined lines of his abdominal muscles intact as if no blade had ever touched him.

"Come on, come out with me," Freni's clear voice beckoned him forward just as he was grappling with his disbelief. Her graceful stride led them towards the cabin door.

Ryan, still processing the miraculous healing, followed, his mind swirling with questions. "Is this the prowess of a first-order [scholar]? No, that can't be right... So, is this what they mean by the power of a 'witch'?" he mused, trying to align his understanding with the reality of her abilities.

Stepping out of the cabin, the scene before him opened up dramatically. Ryan's eyes immediately sought the "black mist hemisphere" that had previously ensnared Freni and Cecilia, only to find it completely dissipated. In its place was Salem, the formidable captain of the [Skull], now a lifeless mound on the ground, surrounded by kneeling pirates, all marked by the dark blue filaments that had enveloped the ship. These threads had etched ominous curse marks between the brows of the subdued pirates.

Nearby, a handful of pirates from the [Black Rose] were visibly trembling. These men had been fortunate, having retreated to the lower cabin at the first sign of the chaos above, narrowly escaping a grim fate.

At the forefront of these survivors stood Cecilia, her expression steely and composed, a stark contrast to the fear evident in her crew's faces.

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