Magic Rituals

Magic rituals were a power more complex, harder to learn, and more difficult to control than simple spellcasting.

But likewise, the effects and power they could produce far exceeded magic in the ordinary sense.

Many mages could only ever master the simplest, most basic summoning, binding, divination, and extraplanar detection rituals throughout their entire lives.

But Raymond was different!

Ever since gaining the Creator class, he had understood that he could not cast spells through incantations and gestures like the other apprentices in the tower. So he had devoted all his energy to studying obscure, difficult-to-understand magic rituals.

Because aside from crafting magic items and using scrolls, this was the only way he could cast spells.

Even the Necromancer Archmage—Astar—could not help but offer a few words of praise for some of his revolutionary rune combinations.

Compared to the caution and prudence of traditional spellcasters, Raymond was better at using his unique perspective as a transmigrator to maximize the power of magic rituals from another angle.

Moreover, the several magic rituals he had improved usually did not require hours, days, or even weeks of preparation and repeated inspection.

In less than half an hour, he had completed every preparation around the stretch of beach where the pirates had lit their bonfire.

As a low chant rang out, the eyeball soaked in preservative fluid, optic nerve still attached, suddenly rose into the air against gravity and hovered motionlessly some thirty meters above the pirates' heads.

"Done!"

Seeing the bone powder beneath his feet vanish completely, along with the costly black onyx gems that had turned into transparent grains of sand, Raymond's eyes revealed a trace of pity for those pirates.

Because he knew those vicious men would soon die in the most painful, hopeless manner possible.

After completing the magic ritual, Raymond immediately and cautiously returned to his previous hiding place, where he met up with the soldiers he had summoned and the leopard.

On the other side of the beach, the exhausted and starving pirates had long since begun wolfing down their food.

Several enormous Trolls in particular had nearly consumed an entire pot of seafood soup laced with Ricin all by themselves.

But "Bloodhand" Harlett did not eat the food his men brought him. He merely drank from his cup in silence, taking an occasional bite of the grilled fish before him.

After roughly seven or eight minutes, he suddenly asked the Hobgoblin beside him, "Have all our men returned?"

"No! Twenty-five are still missing." The latter hurriedly gave him an exact number.

"Twenty-five men haven't returned?"

Harlett frowned instinctively, seemingly realizing something was wrong.

In his view, hunting down four stray dogs who had fled from a merchant ship should have cost them no more than two or three men at most.

The Hobgoblin quickly nodded. "That's right! Most of them are humans, along with a few Half-Orcs. Bohn and Mark, my own subordinates, are missing too. Clearly, either there is some dangerous creature on this island, or that merchant has some powerful magical item on him. But don't worry. I've already sent two teams to investigate. We should have results soon."

"Very good! You truly haven't disappointed me. Once this deal is over, I will withdraw behind the scenes and let you inherit the Bloodhand name, so you can continue ruling these seas."

A satisfied look appeared on Harlett's face, and he casually offered this longtime lieutenant of his a tempting promise.

"Thank you for your generosity and trust! Please rest assured, even if I inherit the Bloodhand name, I will still regard you as my captain forever and offer you my loyalty." The Hobgoblin dropped to one knee, trembling with excitement.

He had waited a full three years for this moment.

Many pirates eking out a living in the Nelanther Isles did not even survive three years.

Although this Hobgoblin could not understand why the unfathomable Captain Bloodhand before him would abandon the prestige he had built and choose to withdraw behind the scenes,

that did not stop him from imagining himself inheriting the Bloodhand name, expanding the crew further, and building a massive fleet capable of raiding the entire western coast of Faerûn.

He might even become the Pirate King, acknowledged as the supreme ruler by every pirate in these waters!

Harlett noticed the fierce ambition in his subordinate's eyes and curled his lips into a teasing, amused smile.

It seemed both to mock the other's overestimation of himself and to anticipate something.

But that expression vanished in less than a second or two.

Once the pirates had stuffed themselves full, they quickly gathered to drink, brawl, wrestle, gamble, and hurl filthy insults meant to demean one another.

For men who spent all year living amid the tedium of the sea, those were their only forms of entertainment.

Bare-knuckle brawls and wrestling in particular could stir up the violent urges deep within these evil-hearted men to the fullest, bringing them incomparable pleasure.

And normally, neither side in a brawl would truly try to kill the other.

At most, they would break a few bones or beat someone until his face was covered in blood and his mind grew hazy.

Because ricin was a relatively slow-acting poison, and because of the sensory stimulation from alcohol and fighting, no one in the camp showed any symptoms of discomfort even after three and a half hours had passed.

Of course, that excluded the Half-Orc cook who had personally sprinkled ricin crystals into the soup pot.

The poor wretch was now sprawled beside the piled supplies, coughing up blood and vomiting while uncontrollably spraying diarrhea like a human fountain. His throat hurt and burned as though it had been set on fire.

His urine had also changed from its normal clear or yellow color into a terrifying dark red.

The agonizing pain spreading from his abdomen throughout his body left him without the strength to cry for help. He could only break out in cold sweats.

There was no need to ask what had happened. The large handful of highly concentrated ricin he had swallowed earlier was taking effect, causing many of his vital organs to fail at a terrifying speed before anyone else's.

Without treatment, he would likely be dead before long.

But unfortunately, every pirate's attention was fixed on the thrilling fight underway, and no one noticed the Half-Orc cook's condition.

Just as his vision went black and he lost consciousness, a burst of chaotic footsteps suddenly came from the dark jungle in the distance.

Immediately afterward, a party made up of eight Hobgoblins and two Trolls appeared in everyone's view, escorting four human prisoners tied together with a single rope.

Those four human prisoners were none other than Captain Bass, the first mate, the boatswain, and Bernard, who had abandoned the merchant ship and its sailors before secretly rowing ashore in a small boat to hide.

The leading Hobgoblin swaggered at the front, baring a mouthful of yellow teeth. "Captain! Look what I've brought you!"

Harlett burst into delighted laughter. "Hahahaha! Well done! You will receive the reward you deserve, I promise. Now tell me, where did you find these fellows?"

"Hehe! It was quite a coincidence! After hiding all day, these four were exhausted, hungry, and thirsty. They wanted to sneak over to the lake after dark for some water and perhaps grab a few bird eggs to fill their stomachs. We happened to spot and catch them."

As he spoke, the leading Hobgoblin yanked hard on the rope, instantly forcing the four weakened prisoners to drop to their knees before his captain.

The boatswain, who had clearly resisted fiercely during his capture, had both arms hanging limply at his sides.

They had either been dislocated or had their bones twisted broken.

After all, the pursuit party had included two immensely strong Trolls. Ordinary humans were simply no match for them.

By comparison, Bernard, the valuable heir to the merchant guild, had not suffered any injuries.

But the moment he saw the notorious Captain Bloodhand, his whole body began trembling violently beyond his control, his eyes filled with despair.

If they had been captured by ordinary pirates, they might still have been able to return home safely by paying a ransom.

But Harlett was clearly no ordinary pirate, and he would hardly care about such a trivial ransom...