Round Thirteen: The Fish Swarm

The humidity grew increasingly thick. Mixed with the distinctive saltiness of seawater and the new scent of blood, the air was so dense it felt like glue—taking a breath could almost clog one’s lungs. As the two ships drifted aimlessly, a foul, musty smell, along with decay and putrefaction, grew more pronounced, as if all the dead fish in the world were buried in this sea and fermenting. The smell was unbearable for any creature with a normal sense of smell.

This environment was far from suitable for close-quarters battles that required heavy breathing; such fights demanded extraordinary willpower and skill. The sailors had managed to hold on so far almost entirely thanks to Chloe—the female swordsman, who moved freely across the deck, her weapon flashing with dark light, yet none of her attacks managed to hit her tall figure. On the contrary, whenever Chloe attacked, Heryk’s followers were either injured or forced to retreat. She leaped around, taking on most of the enemy’s attacks on her own, and judging by her ease, she wasn’t even using her full strength. The sailors on theThe TsubameTsubame were now mostly huddled in a corner of the deck, while Roll and a few others with better skills fought at the periphery, managing to hold their ground for now.

Molier stood beside the wheel, cautiously confronting Heryk’s priests on theThe Hermit CrabTsubame. She didn’t strike rashly nor put all her defenses on herself—just enough to ward off sudden arrows. After all, the enemy was numerous, and even though their counter-spell levels were low, it was hard for them to disrupt the connection between Molier and the magic net. But if one of them got lucky enough to disrupt the spell’s function and collapse Molier’s defense system, things would become very tricky.

So, for now, it was the mad Shadow Wolf who was fighting hardest against Heryk’s followers—until he was stopped by the tuberculosis-ridden Orlando. Orlando’s long sword hung at his waist; he didn’t even draw it. In the Shadow Wolf’s fractured mind, he seemed to realize this was an extremely dangerous enemy. With both swords drawn, a flurry of cold light surrounded Orlando, making his figure indistinct due to the interplay of real and illusory attacks.

It all came to an end when Orlando stepped forward.

Orlando dodged the Shadow Wolf’s thrust by a hair’s breadth, rushed into his arms, and plunged his dagger into the Shadow Wolf’s right rib. The Shadow Wolf opened his mouth wide, pressed against Orlando, as if all his strength had been drained. Orlando squeezed his throat and forced him to kneel, forcing him to look up at him. The dagger buried deep in his lungs greedily drained his blood and life, making it increasingly difficult for him to breathe. Blood bubbles rose into his trachea, nose, and mouth, stubbornly sticking there. The excruciating pain of death caused Chloe’s mental control to fail. The Shadow Wolf twisted Orlando’s hand gripping his neck tighter, his eyes filled with a final plea, hoping his superior would spare him—only to be met with Orlando pulling out his dagger and stabbing it into his skull through the ear.

The three enemies surrounding Chloe all fell backward at the same time. One had half of its head severed, another had a deep gash in its chest with its breastplate nearly split in two, and the luckiest one also retreated in haste, its long sword breaking into two pieces. The female swordsman pushed back the three with a single strike, clearing a space around her to search for Orlando’s whereabouts—not to avenge the Shadow Wolf, but because this assassin posed a threat to her. Yet Orlando appeared in her sight only for a moment; once she cleared the obstacles around her, he was nowhere to be found, as if he had never existed.

Chloe deflected a double-bladed axe aimed at her and thrust her long sword into the waist of the Dark Guard. The blade sank into his enchanted armor as easily as cutting through tofu, but she didn’t have time to pull it out before jumping back. A black arm silently emerged from beneath the Dark Guard’s armpit, the tip of a dagger leaving a faint afterimage in the air. If Chloe hadn’t thrown away her sword, she might have been stabbed. The Dark Guard fell backward, with no one behind him, as if that arm had been an illusion. Standing bare-handed on the ship’s railing, Chloe’s expression grew serious for the first time.

Morrill also noticed Orlando but couldn’t find him either. This wasn’t something that could be achieved just by invisibility, as it was already difficult for any illusion to deceive Morrill’s eyes. Undoubtedly, Orlando was a top-tier assassin who excelled at hiding in shadows!

As spells were cast, more magical protective lights flickered around Morrill, while even more terrifying offensive spells prepared to be unleashed. There was no longer room for hesitation. Sure enough, Morrill felt interference in her connection to the magic network, which kept vibrating. It seemed the priests of Xeric had indeed been prepared, casting spells to break her magic resistance and undermine her defenses at the same time.

But the worst didn’t happen—combat between spellcasters couldn’t rely solely on luck. One of Xeric’s priests took advantage of the chaos and rushed at Morrill. Blessed with numerous spells, he moved swiftly like a cheetah, unarmed but with his raised hands glowing with a dark light—the black light of the “Life-Draining Art.”

Morrill calmly put on a gray-black glove. A massive magical palm appeared instantly between her and the charging priest, blocking his attacks. No matter how he moved, he couldn’t dodge the translucent giant hand approaching him. Until Morrill uttered another spell, her clear syllables turning into flying silver blades that pierced the priest’s chest.

The demonic hand swiftly shifted position, blocking Moriel’s side—an empty direction. The female mage immediately turned her head that way and just in time saw Orlando leap out from the shadows beneath the half-remaining mast, attempting to ambush Moriel. But the protective magic hand didn’t care how good Orlando’s stealth skills were; there was no enemy it couldn’t detect—this was something Moriel learned for the first time. Chloé rushed over at the same time, wielding a slender sword she must have snatched somewhere, with a Shirek talisman still burning on it. Unable to dodge, Orlando engaged Chloé head-on. After a series of almost inaudible clashes of blades, he finally managed to get away from her threat at the cost of taking a hit, using one of his subordinates as a shield. By the time the Shirek believer moved aside, he had disappeared again.
“Coward!” Chloé spat in disdain.
Did she really have to use her magic? Moriel hesitated. Powerful and dazzling magical energy began to flicker in her palm—a deadly spell capable of covering the entire ship was ready to be unleashed with just a thought. But doing so would undoubtedly cause even greater damage to both ships, possibly sinking their foothold in the sea. Moriel did know how to fly, but how long could she sustain it? And where was this place? Without Forty-Seven by her side, she wasn’t confident enough to cross half of the Storm Ocean back to land. What about the sailors of the Migratory Bird? They would surely suffer as well. Though she knew she had no obligation to think of them, still… ever since leaving Agus with Forty-Seven, her heart seemed to have grown softer.
And what about Forty-Seven? The fierce battle had made her overlook this issue for a moment, leaving that guy alone to face the evil Water Element Princess…
A sudden shock made Moriel stagger, and the spell she had prepared nearly dissipated.
The Migratory Bird stopped, tilting slightly, with murky waves rising beneath its hull. Was it stranded?
Rolg drew his enemy’s sword and snorted sharply. He suddenly stared blankly around, and it was the second officer who blocked the next attack for him.
“Rol!” the second officer called out to him.
The warning failed to bring Rol back to his senses; instead, it made him break away from the sailors’ defense circle and run toward the side of the ship.
“Rol!” The sea elf ignored him once again.
Chloé attacked the warrior who had tried to ambush Rol and pulled him aside. “Hey! What are you doing?”
Rol looked out at the sea—the Migratory Bird and the Hermit Crab seemed to be stranded on a large reef, with foul-smelling bubbles bubbling up around the ships, as if they were boiling.
“What on earth are you looking at?” Chloé grew impatient.
Rol turned around, his face pale. He shouted at the two fighting parties, “Sharkmen!”
Even Simon, who had been hiding on the Hermit Crab and hadn’t participated in the battle, heard this distorted roar. Damn it, could it be a coincidence?
More and more ripples spread across the misty sea surface, one after another, until it was impossible to tell where they came from.
Moriel directed her true gaze, capable of piercing illusions and obstacles, toward the sea—and was shocked.

The entire sea was filled with intertwined, sickly green limbs! She never expected so many merfolk to have gathered here while they were fighting!
When the number of any creature reaches a certain level, it becomes overwhelmingly intimidating.
Morril glanced around and then pointed in a direction, shouting, “Retreat that way!”
Many still hadn’t realized what was happening—most of them were Shirek’s followers—who even tried to attack the now-floating Morril.
Morril ignored them; those fools could be dealt with by Chloé. Interestingly, despite Morril often thinking about being alone lately, she never lacked flesh shields.
As Morril flew above the sea surface, the water suddenly boiled.
Countless green sea monsters emerged from the ocean, as if the entire sea had turned into solid matter come to life. The roaring noise was deafening; they opened their gaping mouths, as if wielding human weapons taken from wrecked ships—most of which were severely rusted, while others had empty hands. Yet even just the sharp claws on their forest-like limbs were enough to disperse the thick mist.
It was a hellish sight. The stench and noise from thousands of merfolk were enough to overwhelm these fragile humans. Simon rushed out of the cockpit, stunned—what was going on? Was it a merfolk feast?
A spear was thrown at Morril, easily deflected by her protective field and instead piercing a merfolk’s head. Blackish-red blood gushed out, and the creature collapsed.
This immediately triggered the restless army of merfolk. They pushed forward in layers, like a giant wave.
Morril spread her arms in midair, unleashing a magnificent rainbow—a beam of light of indescribable beauty and brilliance. The dazzling multicolored light surged outward, covering a wide area. Several sailors who stared directly at it, too slow to react, were instantly blinded by the intense brightness, unable to see anything.
This unparalleled beauty carried deadly intent. The colorful rays Morril released were not just for show or to dazzle the eyes. The red, orange, and yellow lights contained the energies of fire, strong acid, and lightning, each more intense than the last. Merfolk covered in red light cried out in pain, their bodies emitting a burnt smell; those exposed to orange or yellow light suffered even more—the orange light injected terrifying acid into their skin, burning all the way to the bones, and even being underwater couldn’t alleviate this flesh-eating, bone-corroding attack. The lightning triggered by the yellow light spread mercilessly through the water, causing many merfolk to convulse and fall, splashing water everywhere.

The other colors don’t have such direct power, but their lethality might even be greater. The eerie green energy is almost the same color as the merfolk’s skin. Those hit by the green light suffer no external injuries, but they all twist and struggle, their gills on their necks flaring desperately, like fish out of water or as if they’ve inhaled some deadly poison they’re trying to expel. The more severely affected quickly collapse in the shallow water and remain motionless. After the sickly blue light, a merfolk is unharmed except that its eyes, adapted to the dark ocean floor, can’t see anything due to the sudden bright light; it waves its claws trying to move forward but knocks over its companion—whose companion shows no reaction, having turned into a stone statue sinking into the mud. And it’s not just this one who suffers such a fate. The blue light makes many merfolk stand there foolishly, not knowing where to go or what to do, showing no reaction to their dazed companions being pushed around in anger. The deep purple waves move silently, but where they pass, they leave behind temporary voids and perhaps some rapidly dissolving rotten powder in the sea. Some merfolk have vanished forever. As for those unlucky ones hit by two or more colors of light, their fate is self-evident.

As a mage, Moriel now truly displayed her terrifying strength. The rainbow-like beams dealt a heavy blow to the merfolk in front of her, even creating a temporarily safer area.

“Follow me!” Chloe leaped off the ship and, along with Rol, called on the sailors to follow Moriel. Meanwhile, the swarming shark-merfolk were unstoppable—often four or five of them pounced on one human to tear at them, while more rushed in with their claws, trying to get a share…

In the chaos, a streak of black light flashed out of nowhere. The bodies of several merfolk split open, and streams of black blood sprayed, forming a vague human shape in the air.

Orlando swung his black sword, knocking down several shark-merfolk who were frantically attacking him. Simon appeared out of nowhere and quickly followed Rol and the others; no one paid him attention—this wasn’t the time to deal with internal conflicts.

Moriel watched the shark-merfolk gathering from all directions—it was a truly disgusting spectacle. She then cast a fear sigil. With her spells and gestures, a huge, twisted magic symbol emitting an infernal darkness formed unimpeded among the crowded shark-merfolk. The merfolk didn’t realize what Moriel was doing; they were already distracted by the sailors trying to break through the water. How could these weak land creatures dare defile their territory? Of course they had to tear them to pieces and devour them!

The fear sigil was triggered the moment it was formed—well, not really triggered, since Moriel had drawn it on those frenzied merfolk’s bodies, so it naturally activated as soon as it was completed.

The circle of fishmen around Fain and Yin trembled violently in a radius of dozens of feet, as if an invisible shockwave had erupted. It was their bodies trembling involuntarily, a tremor originating from the depths of their souls. Intense magical energy penetrated their bodies irresistibly, just as they drew in salty, cold seawater through their gills, allowing oxygen to flow throughout their bodies via their blood. An overwhelming terror pierced straight through the brains of the sharkfishmen. Whatever illusions appeared in their dull black eyes filled them with inexplicable fear. The fishmen suddenly became agitated; the terrified ones frantically flapped their tails and scattered in all directions, splashing sewage and causing considerable chaos in their dense ranks. Even the other sharkfishmen had to struggle to avoid or defeat these panicked peers, leaving them with no time to launch desperate attacks, which gave the sailors pushing forward a much easier time. Chloé led them through the chaos, fighting her way to higher ground. As for what that place was—a island or yet another ruinous nest built haphazardly by the sharkfishmen at sea—who cared now?

Xeric’s followers followed behind them, not to chase the sailors, but also to break through in the direction less pressured by Moriel. Orlando had even rushed to the front of the group, fighting alongside Chloé. Only blood and flesh fragments could pass through the deadly web they wove.

“Stop hiding behind me all the time,” Chloé suddenly said, deliberately stepping aside to avoid a spear thrown by a fishman.

Orlando swung his sword with his right hand to cut the spear in half, then thrust his dagger into its frog-like, flapping jaw and slashed downward, splitting it open. He gave Chloé a cold glance but said nothing.

The fragile human alliance retreated toward the misty heights, with the summoned abyssal demons taking care of covering their retreat. Xeric’s priests no longer cared about anything either. With fishmen everywhere, the chances of demons attacking them were much lower. Let those stinking fishmen deal with those equally stinking demons; they had no intention of staying.

Chloé kicked a fishman off and jumped onto a sharp rock, whistling as she looked down.

“Thousands? Ten thousand? Don’t they ever restrain their reproductive instincts?”

Moriel remained vigilant against Xeric’s followers, especially the gloomy Orlando, even though they were now fighting alongside the sailors—oh, and that Simon too.

“I’ve used up most of the spells I prepared.”

Things were bad. If it had been just dozens or hundreds of fishmen, Moriel might have been able to defeat them with the few advanced spells she had used earlier. But now… the vast ocean, countless sharkfishmen, not to mention Xeric’s followers who had just been fighting fiercely—this was a real nightmare.

“I guess you’re not going to use some ‘portal’ spell to abandon me, are you?” Chloé asked seriously, but in a teasing tone.

“If I were on land, I would definitely do the same.” The effect of the flying spell had worn off, and Morriel now hid aside, doing nothing. Chloé thoughtfully helped her get rid of all the merfolk that got too close, but these green-skinned sea monsters showed no sign of retreating—retreat wasn’t in their nature. The situation was becoming increasingly tense. There was still one Rainbow Barrier left to use… Morriel thought, but how long could it hold off the merfolk? Suddenly, Morriel raised her head to listen, a hint of joy appearing on her face. From deep within the mist came the sound of some giant creature flapping its wings as it approached rapidly—accompanied by a thunderous roar.