"Ah, my leg, my leg!"
"Someone help me! He cut off my arm!"
"Run! Run!"
The pirates, stripped of their weapons in an instant, finally performed as well as they normally did, their morale melting away like snowflakes.
Darean immediately pressed his advantage and charged. Armed with a few broken sticks, the pirates could put up no effective resistance.
In an instant, broad, sweeping sword strokes ripped open their chests, severed their limbs, and even sent a head flying high with a single blow.
Three of the six died in an instant. The remaining three turned and ran.
In his blind panic, one tripped over a stone buried in the ground. A bloodstained steel sword burst through his chest a moment later, snuffing out his life.
Darean picked up a spear discarded near an earlier pirate corpse, took aim, and hurled it hard.
Although the darkness threw off his judgment of the distance, he still managed to pierce another pirate's thigh.
The strange sound of a blade entering flesh was the greatest terror in every pirate's heart on this silent battlefield.
The sudden turn of events made the pirates surrounding the guards stop in stunned disbelief.
Only when the last lucky survivor ran over, empty-handed and terrified, did they react.
The pirate leader's lips turned pale as he watched the figure approach them step by step, a dripping sword in hand, seemingly cloaked in moonlight.
"Seven Hells, is that the Sword of the Morning?"
These men had only their own ignorance to blame. They had completely forgotten that the late Arthur Dayne had also been Dornish.
Meanwhile, Clyson and his panting companions finally had a chance to catch their breath.
In war, encirclement was a very abstract concept.
Ten thousand men could surround fifty thousand, yet sometimes fifty thousand could not trap ten thousand at all.
And now, despite still having the advantage in numbers, the pirates felt surrounded.
The threat behind them forced them to split off some men to face Darean.
That also meant the pressure on Clyson and the others from the front dropped sharply.
Raising his moonlight-bathed sword, Darean was filled with feeling.
"So this is how you use magic. A pity that what little magic I have can only sustain it for that brief instant."
He glanced at the beads of blood clinging motionlessly to it, then flicked them away with a cold smile.
Good. It looks like what the Book of Strange Script taught me isn't bad.
A burning sensation seemed to come from his chest again. Clearly, the power contained within had emerged from the pages once more.
But Darean had no time to look now. He would deal with these bastards first.
He stopped about twenty paces from the pirates and raised his longsword, pointing its keen edge at them from a distance.
It was an outrageously arrogant gesture. Yet despite his being alone, not one pirate dared charge him.
The leader, experienced in battle, immediately realized that the situation had reversed.
Unless they found a way to deal with this fellow who had appeared out of nowhere, they would get nothing today.
He knew perfectly well who the target of this operation was.
Presumably, the Old Man of Oldtown's son, that petty noble named Dareon Hightower, was now sticking his white arse out, cowering in a woman's arms and trembling, wasn't he?
As long as he killed that boy, his objective would be achieved.
Eight hundred Gold Dragons would let them live it up in Essos for quite some time. They could return once things had blown over.
But unless they dealt with these troublesome guards, how could they charge in and find that noble brat who still smelled of milk?
Having thought it through, the fellow bared his yellow teeth and roared at his men:
"What are you doing? He's only one man! Go on, get him! Kill him!"
"Seven Hells, you cowards who've had everything sucked out of you on women's bellies!"
Beautiful, Dornish-flavored Common Tongue, laden with references to genitals and elders, poured out like floodwater.
Yet these pirates, with little organization or discipline, remained utterly unmoved.
The two sides remained locked in this strange stalemate.
Darean was in no hurry to act, either.
He was no superman. That burst of action had consumed a great deal of his stamina.
After all, he was only sixteen or seventeen now. His muscles had not fully developed.
If he could subdue the enemy without fighting, that would naturally be best.
However, the pirate leader seemed to have realized what their side was planning.
Surrounded by his men, he finally grew frantic.
He pressed the curved sword in his hand against the neck of the nearest unlucky bastard and roared:
"Stop stalling! Once those militia men react, even another ten of them will keep all of us from getting out!"
Perhaps the fellow had committed so much evil that even the Seven could no longer bear to watch.
And so, the moment he finished speaking, shouts of battle suddenly rose from the camp to the north.
To Darean, it did not actually sound like many people.
Yet those shouts, coupled with the fellow's jinxing words just now, worked together perfectly.
The pirates' morale collapsed at once.
Fear kept them from carefully judging how many people were coming.
The first fellow dropped his weapon and fled screaming toward the unoccupied flanks.
A dam could collapse because of a single grain of sand.
A second followed, then a third. Some even dropped their weapons outright and knelt, begging Clyson and Darean for mercy.
At the sight, profound despair appeared in the pirate leader's eyes.
It's over!
Fear and the fury of betrayal robbed him of his reason.
Gripping his Dornish curved sword, the fellow roared and charged straight at Darean!
Hmm? Someone really isn't afraid to die?
A mocking smile curled his lips. He did, after all, have a full suit of armor on.
And his bastard sword had far greater reach than that curved sword.
Tsk. An unarmored unit like you is charging up to duel me?
Tired of living, are you!
The longsword planted in the earth came free in an instant and swung across his body, catching the other's overhead slash head-on.
After gauging his opponent's strength, Darean knew where he stood.
They held the bind for a moment, then Darean deliberately feigned weakness, abruptly relaxing the left arm bracing his blade.
Caught off guard, the fellow slid straight toward Darean's left, his blade pulling his body along with it.
"Goodbye. Go to hell!"
With a wet thunk, Darean's freed left hand had drawn the dagger hanging at his waist and driven it straight into the fellow's throat.
"Hhk, hhk..."
The bloodstained leader of the villains slowly sank to his knees. With his windpipe torn open, he could no longer leave any last words.
Without even looking at him, Darean kicked the lifeless corpse aside.
His cold eyes turned to the fewer than ten men still standing, still intent on resisting to the bitter end.
Under the gaze of those young eyes, these pirates, perpetrators of every kind of evil, felt as though a monster from the abyss had fixed its sights on them.
"Surrender, or end up like him!"
Darean delivered his final ultimatum.
Behind them, the guards had finally recovered and were already sharpening their blades in readiness.
Time to end this!
Before you continue