I walked steadily toward my assigned outer anchor at a brisk pace. This was going to be the toughest battle of my life. Even though I'd gained some idea of what to expect on the island after interrogating that cultist, the reality still slightly came as a shock. At least his information had mentally prepared me.
The pirate crew numbered more than a hundred. Among them, the weakest were the initiates—about twenty in total—like the pirate I'd interrogated. They were likely F1 and F2 ranks.
Then came the regular members, over sixty strong. Starting at this level, every one of them had been enhanced by eldritch rituals. From what I'd observed around the town, they ranged from F3 to E1.
Next were the twenty or so elites, empowered directly by their "God." Each ranked from E2 to E3.
Finally, the officers and the captain. I hadn't seen them yet, but according to the pirate, they were the strongest—so I assumed D-rank, though I wasn't certain of the exact sub-rank.
But that wasn't the full picture. Just as Ulysses had discovered the abandoned ships at the back of the island, we later learned from some villagers—after considerable persuasion—that the Governor's men had captured many able-bodied locals. According to Miao Song, these prisoners could serve as both labor and sacrificial offerings. Moreover, the pirates might use those men to swell their ranks by coercion, by breaking their will entirely, or worse.
As I walked, I noticed the clouds beginning to drift toward the island. They gathered overhead, growing steadily darker. No rain fell, but the wind sharpened, whipping through the air. The clouds churned and rolled against one another, and faint lightning began to crackle within them.
That was when I saw it: a single pillar of green light erupt from the ground, stabbing straight toward the sky. It climbed impossibly high before bending sharply downward, the beam arcing toward a point deep in the forest—the very area where we had calculated the ritual would take place. Judging by the distance, I was certain this pillar rose from the outer anchor assigned to me.
I scanned the horizon. As expected, four more green pillars appeared in quick succession, each surging upward before bending down toward the same central point in the forest. A low, almost subsonic hum accompanied each pillar's rise.
Then a new pillar emerged—this one dark red, closer to my position, and positioned between two of the green ones. Like the others, it shot skyward, reached its apex, and bent abruptly, pouring its light into the ritual site. I assumed it came from the inner anchor. Moments later, four additional dark-red pillars joined it, mirroring the pattern of the green ones.
It had begun.
After a few more minutes of cautious progress, I finally reached my destination. The market square lay completely deserted. It was barely eight o'clock at night, yet the place looked as though it had been abandoned for decades. The only illumination along the path had been the faint, flickering yellow of scattered oil lamps, but here the darkness was pierced by an unnatural glow.
At the center stood a Bone Cairn Totem, crowned with a human skull. Subtle waves of yellowish energy rose from the cracked earth and seeped upward into the structure, bathing it in a faint, sickly green light. Green flames danced within the skull's empty eye sockets. The green pillar of light I had witnessed earlier rose directly from that skull, piercing the night sky before bending toward the ritual site deeper in the forest.
Just as I took another step closer, a rough, guttural breathing reached my ears—deep, wet, and labored, like air forced through a throat lined with rot.
A figure lumbered out from the shadow of a nearby stall. It was humanoid, towering at least two and a half meters tall. As it drew nearer, the details sharpened in the eerie light.
It had once been human. Its skin was a mottled greyish-black, stretched taut over a frame built like a mountain of muscle and bone. The eyes were sewn shut with coarse black thread; the stitches were crude and wept dark fluid. It wore the tattered remnants of a coat and breeches—once well-tailored, now split at the seams from unnatural growth, the rags clinging to a body that had outgrown them.
Name: Edward Langford
Tier: E3
Description: Transformed into a monster through an eldritch ritual.
The creature lumbered toward me. Its speed was no more than peak human, but its durability was on another level entirely—at least as resilient as Jessica, perhaps more.
I pulled out a flintlock pistol and fired at it. The bullet struck its chest but fell harmlessly to the ground without piercing the skin. Only a faint mark remained visible on the mottled surface. The monster looked completely unbothered as it continued lumbering toward me, growling occasionally.
Two, three, four, five, six—I kept shooting, but the bullets simply struck its skin and dropped uselessly, barely leaving a scratch. The creature didn't even stagger, not even when I aimed for its head.
Changing tactics, I switched to magic. I bombarded it with mana bolt spells, but like the bullets, they had almost no effect beyond faint scorch marks on its skin. The spell was too weak to inflict meaningful damage.
The monster finally reached me and swung a massive hand at my head. I dodged backward just in time. It roared in frustration when the blow cut through empty air. I kept retreating while firing mana bolts at it, but the creature continued its relentless pursuit.
It didn't appear to have any real intelligence; the ritual had likely burned away whatever mind it once possessed. It simply followed me, swinging its arms wildly and roaring in rage every time it failed to connect.
After a few meters, though, it stopped. It stood there growling, rooted in place, refusing to take another step forward. I halted as well. For a long moment, we simply stared at each other. Then, after a few more guttural growls, the monster turned and began walking away.
Cautiously, I started moving forward again. For several seconds, nothing happened—the creature didn't even glance back. But the moment I took another step closer, it wheeled around, growling, and started advancing toward me once more.
I backed off; it followed—then stopped at the same spot. It growled a few more times, turned, and resumed walking away. I realized it had halted at precisely the same position as before.
The area was too dark to see clearly, so I retreated, grabbed the nearest oil lamp, and brought it back. In the flickering light, I scanned the ground around us but saw nothing unusual at first. Then I crouched down.
There, etched into the dirt, was a thick line. Looking closer, I realized it wasn't a simple line at all—it was hundreds of small glyphs packed so tightly together that from a distance they blended into one continuous streak.
I stood and glanced from the totem to the monster. Without neutralizing the creature, I couldn't reach the totem to destroy it. And this invisible barrier of glyphs wouldn't let me kite it far enough away to bypass it. That left only one option: kill the monster.
But how?
Guns and spells were useless, so I had to rely on my own strength. Unfortunately, my strength wasn't sufficient either. I could have used the Brutal Strike skill, but I was saving it for later fights. That didn't mean I was helpless, though. I pulled up my status and looked at my newest skill.
Rankyaku (Novice)
I had started practicing it the moment my strength stat reached F3, meeting the minimum requirement to begin learning this martial art. With so much else on my plate, I hadn't invested much time in it and had only recently reached the novice level. At its current stage, my kicks wouldn't generate shock waves, but they were still far more powerful than ordinary kicks.
I charged toward the monster. The moment I crossed the glyph line, it wheeled around to face me again. I ducked under its swinging arm to evade the blow. As the arm passed overhead, I drove a kick into the side of its knee. As expected, it had little immediate effect, but that didn't deter me. I immediately backed off, creating distance. I ignored the faint throb in my foot. Our agility stats were similar, but its massive frame made it slightly slower.
I approached again. Swiftly dodging another attack, I struck the same spot and retreated once more. I repeated the hit-and-run tactic relentlessly. The monster grew increasingly impatient and aggressive. Occasionally, I mixed in a gunshot or mana bolt aimed at the exact same location.
When I landed another kick on the spot, I heard a soft crack. My lips curled into a grim smile—the strategy was working. But that small sign of progress made me grow complacent. I missed a beat and didn't retreat quickly enough.
The monster followed with another arm swing. I bent my knees sharply, keeping my lower legs straight while pivoting my body above the knees downward until it was nearly parallel to the ground. The massive hand whistled over me. I lost my balance and fell. The creature immediately followed with a hammer-fist strike, but I rolled away just in time. The punch slammed into the mud, sending clumps flying.
I sprang back to my feet. After silently cursing my earlier mistake, I resumed the hit-and-run pattern. The cracking sounds grew louder and more frequent with each repeated strike to the same area. Finally, my persistence paid off. With a sickeningly loud snap, the monster's knee gave way completely.
It collapsed onto its ruined leg with a roar of rage and pain. It tried to rise, but the damaged limb dangled uselessly. When it attempted another step, it lost balance entirely and toppled forward again.
I watched as the monster began dragging itself toward me across the dirt. It was time to end this.
I rushed in and delivered a solid kick to its chest. The blow didn't injure it, but with its ruined balance, the impact was enough to shove it back a step. I evaded another wild arm swing, then reached into my inventory and pulled out a grenade—one of the ones Matthias had provided us to destroy the totem.
The monster roared, its mouth gaping wide. In that instant, I shoved the iron sphere deep into its maw and forced its head downward toward the ground. I yanked my hand free. Before it could recover, I stomped hard on the grenade, driving it deeper into its throat.
I hurriedly lit the fuse and sprinted away. Taking cover behind a nearby stall, I peered out. The monster had already struggled back to a half-standing position and turned toward me, ignoring the object lodged in its mouth as it began dragging itself forward again. But by then the fuse had burned down completely.
The explosion ripped the creature's head apart. For a frozen moment, the headless body remained upright—then it collapsed lifelessly to the ground.
Just as the monster died, a notification appeared.
Assassin (22/25) (+1)
The assassin mission count had reached 21 when I killed that vampire, but I was confused as to why it had increased now.
The monster was similar to the genetic experiment I had killed earlier in the other world, yet that one hadn't incremented the counter—even though it was also higher-ranked than me. This time it did. That could only mean that, before his transformation, Edward Langford had been at least somewhat famous.
Feeling curious, I approached the smoking corpse. I patted down its tattered clothes. I didn't expect to find any worthwhile loot—the pirates had most likely stripped him already—but it seemed they hadn't searched thoroughly. In the inner seam of the coat, I discovered a folded piece of paper.
The paper was slightly crumpled. I opened it carefully and realized it was a letter Edward had written to his wife before becoming the monster.
My Dearest Eleanor,
By the time you read this, I will have reached the small island they call my "promotion." We both know what it truly is.
Still, I will not complain. A quiet governorship far from headquarters may prove more peaceful than the company I kept there. Some men take offense when another insists on doing his duty properly.
The voyage has been calm, and the men remain in good spirits. Lieutenant Harris still runs the watches as though we sail into battle rather than exile.
They say the island is little more than a fishing town, remote enough that few ships ever visit.
When my term ends, I will return home to you and gladly accept the quiet life you have planned for us.
Until then, think of me when you hear gulls crying over the harbor.
Your loving husband,
Edward Langford
I folded the letter carefully and placed it solemnly in my inventory.
I walked over to the totem and took out three grenades. Glancing up, I saw that the fourth green pillar had already vanished. The previous three had disappeared one by one while I was fighting the monster.
I arranged the grenades around the base of the totem and lit the fuses. I sprinted away and took cover behind a nearby stall.
The explosions ripped the structure apart. With that, the fifth green pillar faded as well. I approached the remains. The skull appeared largely undamaged; the green flames still danced in its eye sockets. I noticed that the scattered fragments were slowly but steadily being pulled back toward the original spot, as if drawn by some force.
I stomped hard on the skull, shattering it into pieces. The regeneration halted immediately—the totem fragments stopped moving.
With the totem destroyed, I left the square. My next target was the inner anchor.
Keeping to the shadows, I arrived at the location of my assigned inner anchor. By then, the first red light pillar had vanished as well.
Unlike the outer anchors, this inner one was guarded by eleven pirates. Eight were regulars: four at F3 and four at E1. The remaining three were elites—two E2s and one E3.
The E3 looked different from the transformed monster I had defeated earlier. This pirate remained clearly human and was leading the group. His men all appeared restless, alert, and ready for a fight.
"How in blazes did them cursed outsiders smash all five outer anchors so bloody quick?" one pirate growled, voice thick with worry. "We sent nigh on twenty-odd lads after sunset to clap 'em in irons or slit their gizzards. How'd the lubbers slip the noose?"
They had sent them.
At sunset, the townsfolk had hurried back to their homes and barred the doors tight. Within minutes, the town had turned into a ghost town.
And just like the few villagers who had warned us, after dark, more than twenty pirates had descended on the tavern where we were staying, intent on capturing or killing us.
They had thought those numbers would be enough. They were wrong. Completely helpless against us, they all died in vain.
"Stow that bilge, ye whining sea dog," the E3 leader snapped, eyes flashing. "Belay yer yappin' and keep yer deadlights peeled! That outsider's already gutted the outer anchors and'll be comin' for this one any tick o' the clock. Eyes sharp, or I'll keelhaul the lot o' ye!"
I drew two flintlock pistols and aimed them at the two nearest F3s while staying hidden in the shadow of a building. I decided to eliminate the weaker targets first before engaging the stronger ones.
The pirates froze in shock as two of their number were shot in the head and dropped dead.
"He's hereabouts, ye scurvy dogs!" the E3 leader barked. "Find the blackguard and gut him!"
I fired again, dropping the remaining F3. Before I could shift my aim to an E1, a faint tingle warned me at my side. I rolled hastily in the opposite direction. Glancing back, I saw the E3 pirate. He looked transformed now—veins bulging and blackened across his skin, eyes pitch black, fingers elongated into razor-sharp claws. Deep gashes marred the wooden wall where he had struck moments earlier.
"There be the bastard!" the leader roared. "Cut him down, ye lazy swabs! Send the lubber to Davy Jones!"
The pirates turned toward me. In that instant, I had thrown the flintlocks and drawn replacements. Two quick shots felled a pair of E1s. I dodged another claw swipe; this time, my right hand gripped a cutlass while my left held a loaded flintlock pistol.
The E2 pirates finally closed in, cutlasses gleaming in their hands. They looked altered, too, but the changes weren't as extreme as their E3 leader's. Bulging black veins traced their skin, and their eyes had turned pitch black—that was the extent of it.
The E2 I had killed earlier might have undergone the same transformation, but perhaps grief over his cat had driven him to charge blindly without shifting. Or maybe the change only happened after dark. I had no way to know.
I parried their swords with my own. Their strength outmatched mine, forcing me steadily backward. I fired a shot into one's head; the pressure on my blade suddenly eased by half. I drove a kick into the other's stomach and backflipped away as a claw raked down from the side. The one I'd kicked lay on the ground, coughing violently.
I scrambled to my feet and leaped aside as an E1 fired at me. Throwing the empty pistol, I drew another and shot the shooter dead while simultaneously blocking the sword of the last E1 with my cutlass.
The E3 was on me again in an instant. His speed was his greatest asset—so fast it was hard to track his movements. But his durability remained only peak human.
No time to deal with the E1 whose blade I was still parrying. I shoved him back hard with my sword and hastily blocked the incoming claw. Before he could retract, I aimed for his head—but he shifted aside at the last second, the bullet merely grazing his ear. He bared a savage, triumphant grin.
The remaining E1 and E2 charged together. Pain still twisted the E2's features from my earlier strike. I braced to meet their assault, but the E3 struck from the opposite flank, pinning me between them.
I ducked at the final moment as their attacks converged. From low, I slashed across the E1's legs; he collapsed with an agonized scream. I rolled forward before another claw could descend.
The E3 lunged before I could fully rise. I blocked, staggering under the force but managing to stay upright. This time, I aimed the pistol at his broader torso instead of the head. He dodged again—but too slowly. The bullet ripped into his stomach.
"Damn ye, ye cursed heathen!" the leader howled in agony. "Ye think ye can halt the comin' of our dark Lord? He'll rise and drag every last one o' ye bilge-rats to the endless depths, ye godless swine!"
I swapped pistols and fired again. Slowed by the pain, he couldn't evade this time. The bullet struck true, punching through his skull. He crumpled, eyes burning with hatred even in death.
I sidestepped the E2's sword swing and thrust my cutlass through his throat. He gurgled, blood bubbling, then fell silent as I withdrew the blade. Last was the legless E1, still screaming in torment. I drove my sword into his heart, granting a quick end to his suffering.
With the pirates defeated, I turned to the anchor at last. It was a bronze mirror suspended in midair, wreathed in dark red light that pulsed ominously. Yellowish energy emanated from the earth and seeped into it.
I placed three grenades directly beneath it and lit the fuses. I dove for cover. The blast shattered the mirror into fragments. The second red pillar winked out. Unlike the outer anchor, there was no visible regeneration here; the system promptly confirmed the destruction was complete.
It seemed the others weren't finished yet. I might have been the last to take down my outer anchor, but my firearms proficiency had let me dispatch the inner guards swiftly. The fight had felt drawn out, but in truth, it had lasted only a few minutes.
The ritual site was next, but I didn't head straight there. Instead, I took a small detour.
I arrived in front of the governor's mansion. By now, the third dark red pillar had vanished.
The mansion was locked tight, with no guards in sight. The pirate captain had likely taken them all to the ritual site, confident that a town full of frightened locals wouldn't dare rob him.
I kicked the door repeatedly near the lock until the wood finally splintered and gave way. I didn't have much time, so I couldn't conduct a thorough search; I still had to return to the ritual site on time.
I stepped inside and cleared the ground floor first: the living room, kitchen, and other common areas—nothing of real value—just everyday furnishings and supplies.
A staircase led up to the first floor, and another door opened to the cellar below. I descended to the cellar first.
It was mostly stocked with food stores and barrels of alcohol. I was about to leave when something felt off about one of the smaller rooms. I approached the cupboard against the wall—I had checked it earlier and found nothing important.
I opened it again, removed the cleaning supplies and empty crates, then rapped my knuckles along the back panel. As expected, it rang hollow. After probing the edges, I located the hidden latch and slid the partition aside. Behind it stood a sturdy, locked door.
One solid kick later, the lock gave way.
Rows upon rows of crates and chests greeted me. Gold coins, silver ingots, loose gems, and jewelry gleamed in the lamplight.
Jackpot.
I swept the gold, silver, and gems straight into my inventory. The bolts of fine silk, casks of high-quality rum and wine, exotic spices, weapons, and armor I left untouched. There was no time to sell them, so I decided to leave them for my companions if they decided to take the loot. However, I did keep a few explosives in case they might come in useful.
I left the cellar and went to the first floor. The bedrooms didn't have anything of much value. Finally, I arrived at the last room, the study room.
I walked to the bookshelf. I ignored most of the books, but kept some on occultism and gods, likely the pirate captain's personal collection. At the study table, I saw a bunch of maps. I scanned them using the system to enrich the system map. There was nothing else on the table other than a locked drawer.
I looked around but didn't find the key, which was likely with the pirate captain. I held the drawer handle, then, using the Brutal Strike skill, my muscles bulged for a moment, and I pulled out the drawer with force. There was only a single item inside, a compass. On the surface, it looked like an ordinary compass, but it was anything but that.
Name: Magic-Attuned Compass
Type: Artifact
Rank: D1
Description: An enchanted compass synchronized with the world's ley network. Rather than north, its needle constantly shifts to indicate the direction of the nearest ley line nexus.
The pirate captain had almost certainly used this to locate the island for his ritual. I added it to my inventory.
After a quick look around, there was nothing left to take. But I didn't leave immediately. Instead, I checked the notification I received after completing the Assassin mission. The three elites I had fought were enough to push it to completion.
Title: Assassin
Objective 3: Assassinate 25 people (Completed)
Reward: Perception (E1), Agility (E1) (Ready to Receive)
Hidden Objective: Assassinate at least one superhuman at least one minor grade above (Completed)
Bonus Reward: Assassination Operation Manual (Assassin's Creed) (Ready to Receive)
I accepted the rewards. I had already fought two E3s; the following fights would be even harder. I needed any improvements I could get.
As I mentally accepted the stats increase, I first felt a burning pain in my muscles all over my body. The pain lasted for a few moments, then I felt a soothing sensation in my muscles. Then I felt a sharp pain in my head, a ringing noise in my ears. It was also gone in a few seconds, replaced by a soothing sensation.
Finally, I left the mansion. By then, the final two dark red pillars had faded as well.
I sprinted toward the ritual site. As I neared, I spotted Matthias and Sebastian approaching from the opposite direction. Both looked battered—Sebastian especially, moving with a limp and clutching a deep wound.
We exchanged quick nods and fell in step together. On the way, I placed my hands on their injuries and channeled healing magic. Both men gave grateful nods in return.
I returned the gesture, but my thoughts were already fixed on what lay ahead.
It was time for the final fight.