Seeing Evan, clearly dazed and dressed in a Naval Officer's uniform, the wizard Gagon quietly raised a bone blowdart to his lips.
Whoosh!
Clang—!
Honed battle instincts made Evan swing his sword at the very last moment before the dart struck, sending the poisoned darthead flying with a flash of steel.
Though he was unscathed, Evan still broke out in a cold sweat when he turned and saw the strangely dressed native old man.
Although he was worried about Uncle Gell facing such a bizarre, disgusting "monster" alone, Evan felt it would be wiser to deal with this sneaky old bastard first.
"Caw caw caw, foolish navy man! Gagon has already seen the omen of your death!"
To Evan's surprise, the strange old man did not flee after his attack failed. Instead, he crawled out of the cabin and kept firing blowdarts at Evan while muttering to himself.
Whoosh—
Whoosh—
His dark brown skin marked him as a native from the Southern Continent or the New Continent. With bone ornaments all over his body and tattoos covering more than eighty percent of his skin, he resembled the native witch doctors from the adventure stories Evan had heard as a child.
Evan quietly raised his guard to the utmost.
According to legend, such bizarre figures, rare in the civilized world, might be weak in direct combat, but they possessed all manner of strange and terrifying witchcraft that was impossible to guard against.
Even though Evan considered his strength to be at the pinnacle of ordinary humans, he did not dare underestimate someone like this.
Sword Form Drifting Skiff!
His body moved with incomparable agility, effortlessly dodging every incoming blowdart.
Just as expected.
Seeing that his successive blowdarts could not hurt Evan at all, the old witch doctor let out a strange cackle and pulled a dark green "ball" from the python-skin pouch at his waist, hurling it violently at Evan.
"Die! Your omen of death will come true here!"
Evan's sharp eyes instantly caught what it was. His pupils contracted sharply. It was a human head, shrunk by some unknown method; its brows and features remained clearly visible, only reduced several times in size.
Bang—
A thick, sticky green mist, like atomized grease, burst from the human head and rapidly spread across the deck.
Evan did not dare test this bizarre thing with his own body. He sprang up the top mast and stood on the main sail's yardarm, avoiding the poisonous mist that was clearly heavier than air.
"Ah—help!"
"Hah... hah... I can't breathe..."
Evan could evade it, but that did not mean everyone on deck could. Quite a few pirates and the sailors fighting them were caught in it. After letting out miserable screams, they fell silent forever.
"You deserve to die!"
Evan flew into a rage at the sight.
Though he had realized this was some kind of witchcraft, Evan could not turn a blind eye to the practice of turning one's own kind into spellcasting materials. Much less could he stand by and watch his comrades be slaughtered without mercy.
Whoosh—
The sea breeze soon blew the poisonous mist away. The surviving pirates and sailors, still shaken, hid in corners and did not dare emerge again. Evan, standing high above, spotted the witch doctor's trail at once.
The old witch doctor was still hiding behind several barrels, furtively peering at the activity aboard the ship and muttering, "My divination shouldn't have been wrong. Death, a powerful young body, ravens... Don't these signs mean I will obtain the corpse of a young powerhouse, then refine it into a formidable Living Corpse Art?"
Evan, who had silently reached the point directly above him by the rigging, only found it absurd. Was this fellow dreaming? A clearly non-combat Spellcaster Profession had come out to challenge a warrior like him just because he had seen his own defeat in a divination?
If all wizards were such incomprehensible, superstitious madmen, then it was no wonder the major churches had all issued Witch Hunt Orders.
Evan had originally thought the "witch hunt movement," like in his previous life, was merely a tool used by the ruling classes to persecute commoners and suppress opponents. Now, however, he felt it was necessary to reconsider.
"At least scum like this old witch doctor, who treated human lives as worthless, really shouldn't exist!"
His thoughts raced, but they did not hinder Evan's fierce movements in the slightest.
Holding his longsword in reverse, he pounced from the mast like a hunting golden eagle. Borrowing the force of his descent, his blade traced a beautiful arc as it swept across the witch doctor's neck.
Thud—
The shriveled head fell to the deck, its face still frozen in disbelieving shock, but its eyes had lost all light.
Evan tapped the deck with his toe and continued rolling forward, quickly distancing himself from where the witch doctor had been. He feared this witch doctor might be like Blood Anchor Zack—still wanting to drag someone down with him even after dying.
Fortunately, whether because this witch doctor lacked the skill or for some other reason, what Evan feared did not happen. A half-baked witch doctor had been caught at close range by a warrior and went down cleanly.
He did not dare touch anything on this man's body. Since he knew nothing about witchcraft, rather than finding usable spoils, one careless mistake might cost him his own life.
Evan found the remaining lamp oil on the pirate ship and set the old witch doctor's corpse, along with everything on him, ablaze, burning it all clean.
While the fire still burned, Evan simply joined the sailors who had already boarded the pirate ship and cleared out the remaining pirates. This time, they encountered no more troublesome enemies.
The lamp oil prepared by the pirates was of good quality. By the time everything was over, the witch doctor's corpse had nearly burned to ashes.
A large section of the fire-resistant deck had been charred as well. Fortunately, Evan had moved away the nearby flammable items before setting the fire, or this pirate ship would inevitably have followed the Warrior's fate.
However, something had remained unburned.
"What is this?"
Amid the charred bone fragments and ashes lay a black stone sculpture shaped like a sunken ship. Its smooth, clean surface bore not even the slightest scorch mark.
Tap... tap... tap...
Evan stepped forward and looked at the strange object. As if possessed, he placed his hand on it. It was icy cold to the touch, as though the flames just now had been nothing more than an illusion.
Splash!
But in the next instant, it felt as though he had stepped into empty air and plunged into foul, salty seawater. Evan felt himself sinking rapidly, reaching the floor of the deep sea in only moments.
Boundless darkness enveloped him.
Rotten mud on the seabed writhed around him, wrapping and burying him. Suffocation, cold, stench—the countless negative sensations flooding his senses directly overwhelmed Evan.
Time suddenly accelerated. Countless barnacles, tube worms, bryozoans, mussels, seaweed, and other marine organisms grew madly over his body. Raising both hands, he saw that one had turned into a crab claw covered in shell, while the other had broken down into countless strands of unknown black seaweed.
The terror that rose within him jolted him awake for an instant. He suddenly saw a huge red exclamation mark in his vision, while an urgent warning tone echoed beside his ears.
"Mental State Deviation. Warning! Warning!"
Realizing at once that he had fallen into an inexplicable illusion, Evan gathered all his strength and struggled violently.
Pop—!
Before you continue