"રંગીનબોલ"
Chromatic Orb—Lightning!
A blue sphere of energy howled through the night sky, slamming into the crowd on the deck as blinding arcs of electricity erupted with a thunderous crash.
[…Target killed. Gained 18 experience points…]
[…Amn slave-hunting squad elite hit, took 16 lightning damage, current Hit Points 6/22]
The Chromatic Orb jumped, unexpectedly striking an unprepared classed combatant.
"Slave-hunting squad? Probably those adventurers from yesterday," Anser guessed.
Never think that the Shadow Thieves are all assassins—thieves, thugs, swindlers, tomb raiders, slave traders… any of them could be a Shadow Thief. Holding multiple identities is perfectly normal.
Besides, the Nashivaar Family works closely with the Shadow Thieves; coordinated action is nothing unusual.
Aboard the Sea Shark, Captain Hels gripped the hilt of his sword tightly, his expression grim. The situation before him did not match his expectations.
He was not afraid of that elven ship. Though the enemy was fast, it could not do much to them—because they had more cannons.
Do not underestimate this point. Aside from poor accuracy, cannons far outclass the opponent's Flame Cannon in both range and power. Of course, solid shot is not especially effective against wooden sailing ships; often, vessels are blasted full of holes yet still refuse to sink.
However, that wood elf values his ship more than his own life. He generally will not take risks—after suffering a bit, he will retreat on his own.
The deck descended into chaos, the noise pounding his head until it felt ready to split. Unable to hold back, he roared in anger, "What are you afraid of? It's just one man. Stand there and let him kill—how many can he kill before he drops from exhaustion?"
The deck fell silent at once, with only the sound of wind and waves remaining.
The first mate's spirits lifted, and he shouted loudly, "Everyone, prepare the cannons! Let them have a taste of our power!"
With clear orders given, the crew temporarily cast aside their fear and hurried about under their superiors' commands.
Boom—
Another lightning sphere swept across the deck, striking a crewman squarely in the back with precision. Electricity coursed over his body as he collapsed stiffly beside the rail, his breathing growing weaker and weaker.
In the distance, the Quesser showed no intention of closing in for a cannon battle, and using cannons to hit a spellcaster hidden in the darkness was even more of a fool's errand.
The first mate clenched his teeth and strode quickly to the aft deck. "Captain, this can't go on."
"Bullshit. Say something useful," Hels said coldly.
"Well, they want to rescue the slaves. Why don't we bring the slaves up, tie them to the rails and the masts, have our men hide behind them? That way they won't dare to cast spells. We force them into a boarding fight!" The first mate bared a mouthful of yellowed teeth, his grin cruel.
"You're a damn genius. Go do it now!" Hels gave his shoulder a heavy pat.
"Yes."
Before long, large numbers of slaves were dragged out of the hold, used by the crew as human shields held in front of them, then bound to the bulwarks, the masts, and even the cannon mounts. Their crying and pleading overwhelmed even the roar of wind and waves.
"Come on—where's your magic now…"
Seeing the spells stop, the crew immediately found their nerve again, growing bold and reckless one by one.
In the darkness not far away, a lone rider and horse rose and fell quietly with the waves.
'So they're quick on the uptake,' Anser thought to himself. The slave traders had reacted fast, striking straight at the key point.
So far, his three Chromatic Orbs had killed three people and severely wounded one more—but that was all. The Sea Shark had forty or fifty crewmen aboard; losing a few meant nothing to them.
Still, this situation was not without a solution, because time was on their side.
Just a few nautical miles away lay Silver Scale Bay. Once dawn broke, this scene would certainly be spotted by other ships. The Waterdeep warships were practically aching for an excuse.
But if it came to that, the matter would no longer have anything to do with him.
"I won't be threatened by you."
He tightened his grip on the arcane focus and cast again, switching spells to Magic Missile.
"મેજિકમિસાઇલ"
Three gleaming missiles burst forth from the endless darkness, tracing three eerie arcs through the air, bypassing the slaves and striking three crewmen with precision.
Bang, bang, bang—
The screams made the other sailors flinch violently, and they desperately shrank back behind the slaves, as if that could give them a shred of safety.
"Do you even know what magic lock-on means?" Anser smiled faintly.
In theory, as long as he could see the target, Magic Missile would hit. The exact point of impact was indeed hard to control, but all he had to do was lock on—the rest he left to fate.
This time his luck was poor and no one died, but even inflicting severe injuries achieved his goal. With no manpower, how were they supposed to fire the cannons, control the slaves, or fight a boarding action?
What followed looked very much like Anser's personal mounted target-practice drill, circling the ship. No matter how one tried to hide, some part of the body would always be exposed.
He made no distinctions and showed no favoritism. Every crewman got a fair share—one Magic Missile each. No extras. If it killed you, that was just bad luck; if it did not, consider yourself fortunate.
"Stop—"
"If you don't stop right now, I'll start killing people!"
The first mate, frantic with rage, yanked over a slave and chopped off his head with a single slash. Blood sprayed everywhere, drenching his head and face.
Yet there was no response at all. Missile after missile continued to burst forth from the deep night, impossible to guard against.
Thinking the other side could not see, he killed two more people in succession—but it was useless. Even the rhythm of the missile launches did not change.
"Extinguish the lights!" Hels caught sight of the ship's lanterns and barked the order.
"Yes, yes…" The first mate snapped awake at once. "Put out the lights, put out the lights! Load the muskets, keep your eyes open—fire the moment you see him…"
Everyone's eyesight was about the same. If you wanted to cast spells, you had to see them; once you got close, they could see you too. When that happened, a volley of musket fire—let's see how many rounds you could take.
Very quickly, the Sea Shark sank into total darkness, every spark smothered under fireproof sand.
'Quick reactions,' Anser thought.
He steadied the fluctuations in his mental focus. In this short span, he had fired eight volleys of Magic Missile; more than half of his Magic Power still remained.
Twenty-four glowing missiles had taken only six lives, but an ordinary crewman would find even one hit extremely painful—it was impossible to maintain full combat effectiveness.
The crew of the Sea Shark were like names being called by Death itself. More than half were wounded; everyone felt endangered, their emotions teetering on the brink of collapse. Extinguishing the lights was nothing more than a desperate attempt to prolong the inevitable.
Anser smiled faintly, gave his horse's back a light pat, and Nornoth turned around and headed back toward the Quesser. It was time for Salian to take the stage.
"Haha, beautifully done." The moment he jumped onto the deck, Salian came running over with a laugh, the delight in his eyes practically spilling out. This was exactly the kind of first mate he had always dreamed of.
"Captain Salian," Anser asked, "how would you usually handle a situation like this?"
"Uh, normally we… don't run into situations like this." Salian shrugged. In the past, once the slave traders started killing slaves, they would withdraw.
It was not that they were soft-hearted, but that the slave traders were ruthless enough. Once, when he insisted on fighting, the slave traders directly threw half of the slaves into the sea.
Anser tugged at the corner of his mouth, unsure how to judge the Quesser and Salian. The other side probably was not truly afraid of them—more likely they were just… annoyed.
"This time is different," Salian added quickly. "The Sea Shark has lost propulsion. They can only rely on those slaves as human shields. At most, they'll kill a few to intimidate us."
"Mm. Open fire."
"Huh?"
"The wind has died down. Those slaves are all on the upper deck. We'll hit the aft superstructure and the hull. No need to worry about counterfire—I'll keep an eye on them."
Salian frowned, worried about sinking the ship, but he also knew the opportunity was rare. Under normal circumstances, wooden sailing ships sank very slowly; there was always time to rescue people.
"Alright. Act immediately—we can't give them time to react." He made the decision on the spot. They might only have a single chance.
He immediately had all the lights on the ship extinguished and maneuvered the sailing vessel to quietly approach the stern of the Sea Shark, drifting with the current.
The crew of the Quesser were of many races, and more than half had darkvision, so sailing at night posed little difficulty.
The Flame Cannon was mounted atop the aft superstructure. It was not large, roughly equivalent to a six-pound muzzle-loading cannon. The barrel, etched with dense magical runes, was about one and a half meters long; including the carriage, it likely weighed no more than a thousand pounds.
"It's too dark. Right now I need you to put some kind of marker on the stern of the Sea Shark—a flare, or a Light spell…" Salian did not dare to get too close.
"No problem. Watch carefully." Anser had wanted to see how the cannon was fired, but hearing this, he could only regretfully jump down from the aft superstructure.
He mounted Nornoth and galloped rapidly toward the side of the slave ship's stern. Only when he closed to within a dozen meters could he clearly make out the details of the hull.
A slave ship crewman on watch atop the aft superstructure heard the noise and looked up, just in time to see a black knight burst out of the darkness. He jolted in fright.
"I see him—he's at the stern—"
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