The metal door closed behind Thatch and Roland, temporarily sealing off Boer's absolute domain from the outside world.
Neither left immediately. Instead, they both leaned against the cold bulkhead and let out a long breath. Only now did the suffocating pressure inside the room truly dissipate.
Roland took out a silk handkerchief and wiped the sweat from his temples and palms. With a bitter smile, he said, "Facing our lord feels like facing a tsunami... no, the abyss beneath the sea."
Thatch grinned and slapped Roland on the back, nearly knocking the breath out of him. "You'll get used to it. There'll be plenty more opportunities, you old fox. Compared to those gangland bastards who smile to your face and stab you in the back, I prefer this kind of pure power. At least we know perfectly well that obedience will get us everything."
He paused, a beastlike gleam flashing in his eyes. "And now, we're going hunting for the abyss. Come to my cabin. We need a perfect plan."
Inside Thatch's cluttered cabin, piled with weapons and nautical charts, the two faced a rough map of the Kingdom of Bernia and began weaving their net.
Weaving a web of noble interests-
Roland spoke first, pointing to the royal capital, Silver City, on the map.
"Making connections with the nobles won't be difficult, because the nobles themselves are the greediest 'gangsters.' What they lack has never been power, but the 'Gold Beli' needed to maintain that power and their extravagant lifestyles, as well as... greater military strength."
He laid out his plan in detail. "I don't think I'll approach the royal family or the highest-ranking dukes directly. They're too conspicuous, and too arrogant. My targets are earls and viscounts with real authority-those with ambition but insufficient capital, or secure positions but a desire for stronger private forces. For example, Earl Gladstone, who oversees part of the capital's defenses, has been seeking promotion and needs enormous sums to grease palms at every level. Then there's Viscount Wilson, who owns vast wooded mountain territories and constantly clashes with the Dark Alliance. He'll definitely be interested in 'special weapons' that can equip his private troops."
"When the time comes, I'll hold a small, private 'viewing' as an agent of the Far East Shipping United Chamber of Commerce. The invitations won't mention arms, only hint that a collection of 'treasures capable of altering the regional balance of power' will be exhibited. There, I'll display 'samples' made by Lord Boer-sharper blades, sturdier armor.
"Once they show interest, I'll propose a partnership. They'll provide official protection, secure warehouses, and sales channels, while we supply the goods. Profit shares will be negotiable. We can even promise to install them as the new underground agents after 'clearing out' the disobedient old powers. For them, it'll be a hugely profitable business requiring no investment, while also strengthening their own forces. Almost no noble would refuse."
"Before the plan is carried out, I'll keep the 'cleanup' operation strictly confidential. Only once news of the Hunter Family's destruction arrives will I 'panic' and approach our noble partners who have already taken the bait, telling them, 'Our shared enterprise has run into trouble. Our partners, the Hunter Family, have met an unfortunate end. We need to take over their channels immediately before our rivals seize them.' By then, for the sake of their own interests, those nobles will be even more eager than we are to help us 'stabilize the situation.'"
Thatch took a swig of rum and traced a thick finger over the Dark Alliance's strongholds on the map, one by one.
"My job is more straightforward. Find old friends, spread the word, lay traps."
"Most of my old pals still in the business haven't gotten anywhere. They're scraping by under the gangs' oppression. Give them a chance to turn things around, and they'll seize it. If our enterprise is going to grow, manpower is essential.
"First, we spread rumors of a 'fat sheep.' Through underground channels, we'll feed the news directly to the Dark Alliance's middle and lower ranks: a young arms dealer named 'Boer' from the East Blue, filthy rich but ignorant of the rules, has brought a large shipment of fine weapons unlike anything seen before and wants to break into the West Blue market. He'll deliberately show contempt for the Hunter Family, declaring, 'Either I work with the strongest, or I become the strongest myself.'"
"At the same time, we'll have our men cooperate and stage a few scenes. For example, our people can pose as Boer's attendants and 'accidentally' reveal the gold and weapons they're carrying in casinos controlled by the Hunter Family. Or they can 'let something slip while drunk' in a tavern, mocking the Hunter Family for growing old and falling behind the times. These actions will strike precisely at the Hunter Family's two most sensitive nerves-face and money."
"When the Hunter Family's anger has been stirred up and they're ready to deal with this 'fat sheep,' our people will appear as intermediaries at 'just the right moment' and pass along word that Boer is 'willing to negotiate.' To show our 'sincerity,' we'll let the Hunter Family choose the meeting place. They'll certainly pick somewhere they believe is absolutely safe, where they can easily control the entire situation-their headquarters, for example, or some secluded private estate. And that's exactly what we want."
Thatch and Roland exchanged smiles filled with cold cruelty.
Roland summed it up. "When the Hunter Family's key members gather in the lair they believe is safe, all to carve up this 'juicy prize'..."
Thatch picked up where he left off, slamming his fist onto a potential meeting site the Hunter Family might choose on the map. "That's when Lord Boer makes his entrance and delivers their 'family extermination package.' Our key people will infiltrate beforehand or provide support from the perimeter, making sure all the 'honored guests' have arrived and cutting off every possible escape route."
"Once the plan succeeds," Roland said, his eyes gleaming with anticipation for the future, "the Hunter Family will be destroyed, its core members wiped out in one fell swoop. When word spreads and the entire Underworld descends into chaos and panic, taking over their territory, businesses, and remaining forces will be child's play, with Lord Boer's might in our hands and nobles seeking a share of the spoils at our backs. A stable, secure 'home,' utterly loyal to Lord Boer, will quickly be established in Bernia."
The plan was settled.
When Thatch and Roland stepped out of the cabin again, the tension had vanished from their faces, leaving only excitement and cold ruthlessness kindled by ambition.
Like two highly skilled fishermen, they had disguised their barbed hooks as delicious bait and cast them into the dark depths, waiting only for those sharks that fancied themselves hunters to swim willingly toward the feast of death already prepared for them.
Inside the secret chamber, Boer hovered several inches above the floor, fine grains of iron sand slowly circulating around him like planetary rings. He precisely fitted another silver ring, infused with abundant electromagnetic energy, into a reserved socket in the armor over his chest.
The ring instantly established an invisible connection with the Iron Sand Matrix covering his torso. Energy flowed more smoothly, feeding back a sense of finer control over electromagnetic force.
He clearly recognized that the path he walked was fundamentally different from that of the historical Captain John, or Kid, who was supposed to appear in the future and relied solely on magnetic attraction and repulsion.
They might be able to manipulate massive metal constructs, but he delved into the roots of electromagnetic phenomena, exploring fields and forces, and the conversion between energy and matter.
Only seven months after acquiring his ability, he had already reached a stable position midway through the first stage of his planned ability development.
He calmly assessed his condition. After landing, the geomagnetic field across a larger area will provide more stable environmental support, slightly improving my ability's range and endurance. Against organized regular kingdom troops, the defense of my iron sand armor, the Electromagnetic Cannon's beyond-visual-range strikes, and my flight already give me an overwhelming advantage.
Ordinary soldiers and conventional firearms pose very little threat. Even if I encounter an elite Vice Admiral from Marine Headquarters, Extrasensory Prediction, superior mobility, and long-range attacks will be enough to hold my own, or even gain the upper hand.
But my current total energy reserves and power output remain the main limitations. Prolonged, high-intensity combat will burden my body, and I lack an absolutely lethal means of deciding a top-level battle in a single strike. But becoming an underground king in the West Blue will be child's play!
He suppressed the stirrings within him brought on by his growing strength.
I mustn't be impatient. My growth already far exceeds that of ordinary people. Time is on my side. My current focus is to establish a base, acquire resources, and prepare for the next breakthrough.
Boer floated silently out of the meeting room, arrived at the deck's viewing platform, and gave an order to a pirate on duty:
"Send word to Thatch and Roland. Immediately gather every nonessential metal item aboard-damaged weapons, spare anchor chains, discarded metal components-and bring them all to me."
He needed to stockpile enough "ammunition" and prepare the first roaring blaze for the flames of war he was about to ignite in Bernia.
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