Translator: CinderTL
The sound was as cold as moonlight, yet carried the mysterious rhythm of the deep sea, causing everyone to instinctively freeze in their tracks.
Following the sound, they saw a young man with brown hair standing at the ship's bow, as if he had appeared from nowhere.
His slender fingers lightly brushed the harp strings, and a soul-piercing melody flowed from his slightly parted lips.
As the song rose and fell, the shark pack beneath the waves gradually slowed their movements. Even the murderous intent in the eyes of the ferocious Warsaw Fishmen began to fade, replaced by a cunning glint.
But when their gaze fell upon the corpses of their comrades on the deck, that cunning glint instantly froze, turning into terror.
The fishmen dragged their webbed claws across the deck, leaving slimy trails as they instinctively retreated.
Yet this terror was fleeting, quickly replaced by pure bloodlust.
Just as the fishmen tightened their grips on their weapons and prepared to strike again, the churning sea in the distance gradually calmed.
Except for the black-robed figure standing on a splintered plank, only a crimson blood trail remained on the surface.
The massive tentacles that had roiled the water had vanished without a trace.
It was as if this was a signal to retreat.
The fishmen let out piercing shrieks and retreated en masse to the ship's edge.
With a series of "plop" sounds, dozens of fishmen on the deck and around the ship vanished into the deep sea in an instant.
"Is it over?"
Roland scanned the surroundings, confirming the danger had passed before exhaling deeply and slowly sheathing his Mithril Longsword.
Though the recent battle hadn't injured him, it was far from easy.
Even with his current strength, these fishmen, whose power far exceeded ordinary demonic beasts for some unknown reason, were no match for him in single combat.
But their sheer numbers were overwhelming.
He had personally slain nearly a dozen of them.
Despite his attributes far surpassing human limits, his stamina wasn't infinite.
Slaying so many powerful fishmen in succession left him feeling slightly fatigued.
If he had been on level ground without Lor and the guards' assistance, he likely would have had to rely on a mounted charge or activate Battle Frenzy to carve a bloody path through the relentless fishmen's encirclement.
"My strength still isn't enough."
He sighed inwardly, recalling the battle at Mist Creek Town.
Beckham had slain over three hundred demonic beasts with a single strike.
"Now, though my attributes far exceed ordinary humans, I lack a means of large-scale destruction beyond Fire Arrow."
"And even Fire Arrow, unless I disregard mental power consumption and unleash its full power, can't instantly annihilate a large group of demonic beasts."
As Roland replayed the battle in his mind, a sudden cheer erupted nearby.
The surviving guards raised their weapons and let out a thunderous cheer.
"Mr. Roland!"
Lor limped over, his arm injured, his face filled with reverence.
"Thanks to you, otherwise..."
"That's enough, Lor."
Roland patted the burly guard's shoulder and smiled gently.
"The most important thing for you to do now is bandage your wound. And..."
He gestured towards the fishman corpses scattered across the deck.
"Clear the battlefield, not stand here praising me, wouldn't you agree?"
"I wasn't praising you, it's just..."
The inarticulate Lor struggled to explain, finally managing only, "Your strength... is truly remarkable."
With that, he turned and gestured for the soldiers to begin clearing the deck.
As the crisis passed, the passengers inside the cabins breathed sighs of relief.
Though no one dared step onto the deck, cheers still echoed from within.
Just as everyone was basking in the joy of survival, the brown-haired youth approached Roland.
He ignored the fishman corpses and bloodstains covering the deck, instead bowing gracefully.
"Praise the fearless hero! I am Galvis. May I know your name, sir?"
"An elf? No..."
Roland noticed the youth's ears, slightly pointed but not as long as an elf's, and pondered. During his time at the Far Ocean Port in the River Domain Nations, he had seen a few elves from afar.
They were all like the elves Roland had seen on deck when he first boarded the ship—exquisite features, long pointed ears, and an innate air of nobility. Their speech and manners were always polite yet distant.
But the brown-haired young man before him was different.
Though his ears were pointed, they retained a rounded curve, and his handsome face lacked the captivating refinement of an elf's.
Moreover, for some reason, this young man exuded a frivolous air, lacking the composure one would expect.
Recalling the strange rhythm from earlier, Roland raised an eyebrow slightly and returned the bow.
"Roland. It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Galvis."
"Oh! Mr. Roland!"
Galvis leaned back dramatically, like a stage actor, and spoke in an exaggerated tone.
"Your swordsmanship is breathtaking, but even more lethal is the shadow cast by your eyelashes—it has pierced my heart! Leaving an unhealing wound upon it!"
As he spoke, his slender fingers plucked at the strings of his harp, and a fitting melody immediately flowed forth, as if accompanying his declaration of love.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Galvis..."
Roland's eyebrow twitched involuntarily.
"Do you always speak like this?"
"Of course!"
The brown-haired youth nodded enthusiastically, then leaned close to Roland.
"To be honest, after witnessing your heroic combat just now, I was inspired to compose a beautiful melody for you. Would you like to hear it now?"
Roland was momentarily speechless.
This overly enthusiastic and florid conversation made him feel distinctly uncomfortable.
Cough, cough.
Clearing his throat, he decisively changed the subject.
"Mr. Galvis, was it your music that calmed the rampaging fishmen and shark pack just now?"
"Indeed."
Mr. Galvis inclined his head gracefully, his voice as melodious as a harp string.
"Mr. Roland, music is the greatest creation in this world, the most beautiful bridge of communication between all living beings. Even those heartless demonic beasts and savage beasts cannot escape its influence!"
Having delivered this pronouncement, he paid no heed to Roland's increasingly strange expression and bowed again.
"Allow me to formally introduce myself, dear Mr. Roland."
He raised his head, his gaze burning with admiration, as if he were gazing upon an uncut, priceless gem.
"I am a bard in training, currently traveling the land in search of heroic legends worthy of song. And you..."
Galvis's music suddenly swelled in intensity, his eyes gleaming with excitement.
"Are precisely the protagonist I've been seeking!"
"Bard?"
Roland automatically filtered out Galvis's flattery, seizing on the key word.
In an instant, memories from his past life flooded back.
In those Western Fantasy stories and games, bards were always indispensable.
And in this world, he wasn't new to them either.
Earlier, in the village of Blackwater Territory, a few wandering poets had briefly stopped by.
But in his mind, they were no different from street performers, scraping by with cheap tricks.
Aside from their silver tongues, they were indistinguishable from ordinary people.
Yet Galvis's earlier performance had completely shattered that impression.
"It seems that in this world, bards... might also be transcendent professionals?"
Just as Roland was about to ask, a muffled thud echoed in his ears.
Bang!
The robed figure that had been far out on the sea moments ago now stood abruptly on the deck.
(End of the Chapter)
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