"Bloodhand" Harlett

Without the captain, first mate, and boatswain to command them, the remaining illiterate sailors—some of whom probably could not even read—naturally could not organize any effective resistance.

Forget organizing resistance. Quite a few of them were scared out of their wits and simply leaped into the sea, hoping to swim across the shallows and reach the beach.

But without exception, they were shot dead by crossbow bolts.

An ordinary human's swimming speed in the open sea could hardly exceed the limit of one hundred meters per minute.

A minute was enough time for several volleys of crossbow bolts.

Coupled with the fact that the tide was just going out, the corpses and dark-red blood rapidly stained the surface of the sea.

As for those who had not jumped overboard and tried to resist, after seven or eight of them were hacked to death, they too dropped to their knees and surrendered.

After all, there were more than two hundred pirates, including brutal, terrifying monsters such as Hobgoblins and Trolls.

The former were nothing like their Goblin relatives, a chaotic, stupid, cowardly, destruction-loving pest race.

They were militarists roughly the size of humans, or slightly larger, skilled with all kinds of weapons and armor, and capable of making their subordinates obey orders without question.

Hobgoblins had an extremely strict hierarchy within their society.

Some evil human rulers even recruited them as officers for their armies in order to improve their soldiers' combat effectiveness and obedience.

As for the latter, Trolls, their giant-like height and muscular frames alone were enough to fill any human facing them with despair.

These creatures, which treated every living thing they encountered as food, stood three meters tall and weighed over one hundred and fifty kilograms.

The destructive force generated merely by swinging down their clubs could easily kill a sturdy horse.

One look at the young sailor on the merchant ship's deck—whose limbs were all that remained, whose torso had nearly become a puddle of mangled flesh, and whose only intact organ was a kidney that had flown out—was enough to show that a Troll's strength was not something ordinary people could contend with.

Just as the captured sailors crouched on the deck, shivering as they awaited judgment, "Bloodhand" Harlett, the pirate captain, finally appeared.

Unlike the savage, hideous figure described in the rumors, he was rather handsome. He looked to be around forty, with neat short hair and a small goatee.

He gave off an air of maturity, weathered experience, and wisdom.

Harlett wore a white shirt made in Amn beneath a dark-blue captain's coat.

He wore black trousers of some unknown material.

On his feet were a pair of brown waterproof leather boots.

A tricorne sat atop his head.

Most importantly, the two weapons hanging from this pirate captain's belt were highly unusual.

One was an extravagant-looking scimitar, with a gleaming blue gemstone the size of a quail's egg set into the end of its hilt;

the other was an inconspicuous short sword that was the complete opposite, entirely black and nonreflective.

If nothing unexpected happened, both should have been magical weapons.

The instant Harlett set one foot on the merchant ship's deck, every pirate—whether human, Half-Orc, Hobgoblin, or even the not particularly intelligent Trolls—raised both hands and shouted in Common Tongue.

"Welcome, great Captain Bloodhand!"

"Under your leadership, we have once again successfully captured prey upon the sea!"

"You are the supreme ruler of these waters! The uncrowned king!"

"OOOOOO!!!!!!!"

There was no doubt that this man had completely won the devotion of his subordinates.

Some of them even worshipped him fanatically and took pride in obeying every order he gave.

Harlett had long since become accustomed to such minor displays. He immediately nodded in satisfaction. "You did well! Now bring up the son of the owner of the Roldan Trading Company. I can hardly wait to hear his cries of pain and despair when he learns the truth."

"Uh... Captain, we searched the entire ship and found no sign of the Roldan Trading Company owner's son. Not only him—even this merchant ship's captain, first mate, and boatswain have vanished without a trace," a Hobgoblin carefully explained.

"What? You mean they escaped?" A chilling glint flashed through Harlett's eyes.

Instead of answering himself, the Hobgoblin yanked a captured sailor from the crowd, grabbed him by the hair, and threatened viciously, "If you don't want to die, repeat what you just said. Remember, if you get even one thing wrong, I'll cut out your tongue."

"D-Don't kill me! Don't cut out my tongue either! The shipowner, the captain, the first mate, and the boatswain abandoned us and escaped in a small boat when the ship ran aground. They should be hiding in the island's thickets by now."

The human sailor was clearly terrified. He spilled everything he knew in one breath.

Especially when he mentioned the captain, his face was filled with rage and hatred.

"They abandoned the merchant ship and its valuable cargo, then fled onto the island? It seems this target is even smarter and more decisive than we expected," Harlett commented as he stroked his beard.

"Captain, what do we do now? Search the island?" the Hobgoblin asked uncertainly.

After all, the cargo ship beneath their feet alone was already worth a fortune.

He would much rather take the ship and goods back to sell to black-market merchants, then use his share of the money for drink and pleasure.

If they searched the island, finding four people in hiding with only two hundred or so pirates would be anything but easy.

They might search for days without finding anything.

But Harlett replied without hesitation, "Of course we're going ashore!

Do you know how vast the assets of the Roldan Trading Company, passed down through generations, are?

Do you know how many merchant ships they have, and how many trade routes they control?

The profits from pulling off this job are nothing a single shipload of cargo can compare to.

Leave some men behind to guard the prisoners and the ship. Everyone else goes ashore.

Even if we have to dig up every inch of this island, we will find Bernard."

At Captain Bloodhand's command, the pirates jumped into small boats and rowed hard toward the nearby beach.

No one realized that the island did not contain only them and the four people who had escaped from the merchant ship.

There was also a Planeswalker and the creature he had summoned.

"Merchants? Pirates? A chase and battle at sea? Interesting..."

Hidden in the thickets, Raymond had witnessed everything that had just happened, and an interested expression appeared on his youthful face.

He did not rush to approach the four people who had first landed in the small boat, nor did he rashly attack the pirates. Instead, he intended to first uncover the truth behind it all.

Simply put, he would stay hidden and watch the show.

Once the time was right, he would decide which side to help, then catch a ride off this desolate, uninhabited island.

Having made his plan, Raymond reached out and gently stroked the leopard lying behind him. In an extremely soft voice, he said, "Let's go, Reed. It's time to hunt. First, let's capture a few prisoners and find out who these two groups are and what they want."

Roar!

The leopard let out a low growl, its pale-yellow eyes shining with excitement and anticipation.

Though it did not understand the entire sentence, it understood the word "hunt."

The man and the leopard quickly vanished into the dense woods, weeds, and thickets.

Before long, three human pirates searching the area together were targeted.