Out on the open sea, the cold, heavy rain was already pouring down.
The Phantom Warhorse carried Byron along the ship’s exterior, galloping furiously.
Even through a layer of black osseous armor, he could clearly feel the howling wind sweeping across his cheeks.
The storm that had been brewing in the high skies for a long time now seemed like a massive demon, unleashing its divine might upon the sea with reckless abandon.
Even though he didn’t gain any extra transcendent abilities aside from those casual bursts of azure flames, Byron’s own abilities had been comprehensively amplified—strength, speed, perception, Spirituality... He felt as if he could do anything at this moment.
Of course, he was very aware that this was just an illusion from power surging temporarily.
The energy burst from incinerating a Third Order and nineteen Second Order Transcendents in an instant had allowed him to experience the formidable power of a Third Order Transcendent prematurely.
The Storm Knight’s [Ride] ability made him as adept at controlling the Phantom Warhorse beneath him as a tiger with wings, with no issues of losing control.
As he reached the upper gun deck, he suddenly ducked to avoid a cannonball flying past.
With a tug on the reins, the Phantom Warhorse lowered its head and smashed through a gun port into the gun chamber, sending sailors flying all along its path.
Byron, lying flat on the horse’s back, followed the Phantom Warhorse as it charged out from another gun port.
Then he repeated the process, turning the fleet’s most powerful Second Grade Battleship upside down.
Old Norridge, infuriated, roared incessantly behind him. He was forced to summon the Marines through the Law Network to surround and intercept him.
It was not until Byron charged onto the open deck, like a War Chariot crushing everything in its path, that the Fleet Commander’s personal guard unit finally stood before him.
In the torrential rain, even flintlock guns with rain covers saw a significant reduction in their rate of fire.
The sparse lead bullets that hit Byron’s full-coverage armor were immediately deflected, completely lacking any lethality.
Byron, man and horse as one, used the gallop’s momentum to sweep his Knight Spear, unleashing a storm of blood and severed limbs among the guard unit.
At that moment, Old Norridge finally managed to catch up.
With a stomp of his right foot, his body instantly accelerated, almost turning into an afterimage. He then fiercely launched a [Cross Fury Strike] with his exquisite Silver Cross swordsmanship.
Fueled by long-suppressed rage, he aimed to cut Byron, horse and all, in two with a single strike.
He came from the Blood Cross Knights, controlled by the York Family. He was a [Blood Cross Knight] of the Fortress Sequence who had reached the limits of the Third Order.
His sword strike was incredibly powerful, and Byron, a pseudo-Third Order, dared not meet it head-on.
Though he was on horseback, his body was as light as a phantom. With a squeeze of his legs, the Phantom Warhorse dodged the sword strike like a puff of blue smoke.
Meanwhile, Byron’s Knight Spear, wreathed in storm and thunder, crashed down on his opponent’s head with a fierce [Sky Edge Slash].
This move capitalized on an absolute advantage in range, attacking from outside the opponent’s strike zone.
It corresponded to the principle of "distance" among the four fundamental principles: judgment, distance, timing, and positioning.
The attack was imminent, yet the enemy seemed as far away as the horizon.
Combined with the Storm Sword Technique’s mastery of timing, it was as swift as lightning.
Norridge had not expected the Phantom Warhorse’s agility to so completely defy common sense.
One might believe it was not a horse but a veteran Great Pirate who had practiced the [Mountain Goat Steps] for many years.
He quickly ducked and rolled forward, changing his sword moves into a fluid, spinning cut aimed at getting close to Byron’s side and severing his horse’s legs.
But Byron’s sidearm roared to life.
The hot steel balls not only disrupted Norridge’s attacking rhythm but also punched through the open deck, sending several gunners on the gun deck below to their deaths.
In the blink of an eye, they had exchanged three moves in the pouring rain.
Just as Byron was exceptionally familiar with the York Family, the Yorks were equally familiar with the Lancasters.
There was no need to see each other’s faces; the indelible marks ingrained in their swordsmanship were enough to identify each other at a glance.
Old Norridge gritted his teeth and enunciated each word, "Storm Sword Technique, Lancaster, it’s really you!"
At this time, Byron was briefly held up by him, and hundreds of Marines from the ship had already rushed over from all directions.
Norridge’s aura was also growing stronger.
The Knight Profession’s Third Order ability [Knight Commander]:
"Allows one to gather the strength of subordinate knights. The stronger these knights are and the more numerous they become, the better the effect.
Furthermore, it can bestow various aura abilities on subordinates, allowing them to display combat power far greater than the sum of their parts.
Only this Third Order ability can overcome the Pirate Profession’s [Pirate War Flag] (Chapter 83)."
As the Marines surrounded him, another Third Order Transcendent, the captain of the ship, also approached Byron from the other side of the deck.
Without hesitation, Byron swapped his Knight Spear for his ’Knight Spear,’ the firearm.
While galloping toward the windward side of the ship to accelerate, he shouted, "A man should be honest! As a knight, one should honorably use the Gun Drawing Technique! Mourning Sonata!"
The six pipes of the Organ · Black and White Keys played in unison, tearing open a bloody gap in the Marines’ encirclement before they could close in, allowing him to effortlessly break through and escape.
He then leaped directly from the towering open deck into the tumultuous sea below.
In the instant he left the King Edward, he waved his hand, scattering a heap of octopus silver coins soaked in Little Norridge’s blood.
All of them fell onto the corpse-strewn open deck of the Second Grade ship.
With that, the Black Mass Ceremony was declared complete!
The violent winds above the fleet gradually came to a halt.
It was as if even the wind and rain here felt somewhat ill at ease.
The Navy men on the deck shivered one by one, as if they were suddenly targeted by some fierce predator.
If a Transcendent were to enter deep meditation, they would realize that the dark mass in the Sea of Origin Matter was slowly untangling itself from Iron Anchor Bay.
Instead, it began to wrap its tentacles around the Strait Fleet.
Meanwhile, Byron’s Phantom Warhorse moved magically without sinking, treading the waves.
It sped far away, covering a sea mile.
He had just reunited with Violet, who had long been waiting on the back of the Man-Eater Shark, when his Mad Hunt armor vanished in a burst of flames.
If Violet hadn’t quickly caught him with her swift hands, he would have almost been swept away by the waves.
"How are you doing, Byron? Are you alright?"
She did not press him on how his mission to divert disaster had gone, nor did she delve into the magical power that closely resembled the Mad Hunt. Her first and foremost concern was whether he was hurt.
Byron’s heart warmed at her concern. He showed her a big smile and gave a thumbs-up, signaling that everything had gone smoothly.
The explosive ability of the Mad Hunt Legion lasted only three minutes. After his brief moment of glory, his whole body ached.
Without leaning on Violet, he wouldn’t even have been able to stand.
But the gains from this venture were tremendous.
Most importantly, after witnessing the "Touch of the Kraken" and unraveling this historical event, his final trump card was now fully prepared.
A mere accident might make things worse or better, but with this added, it’s really time for you all to take your final bow.
A person’s courage often comes from their "trump card," as the saying goes: to have confidence because one has something to rely on.
All bodies persist in their state of rest or of uniform motion in a straight line unless compelled to change that state by forces impressed upon them. That’s why, no matter how powerful one is, there’s always a need for someone to lend a hand at the critical moment.
Though Byron was always taking risks, he had kept his most significant trump card hidden, unplayed.
The first entry for ’Historical Reviser’:
"One: The Anchors on you become more stable.
Objects with which you have Anchoring connections will also be more likely to be pulled with you into a historical vortex, drawing you closer to various unknowns and secrets.
Of course, if the [Anchors] are strong enough and numerous enough, they might be able to pull you directly out of the vortex."
Byron noticed that as he fought side by side with Violet, the Anchor between them had clearly become more solid, rivaling the strength of his connections to his living relatives and friends.
The most crucial part was the second entry:
"As compensation, when participating in a Hidden event with a historical impact over 30, you can summon a one-time-use Sacred Relic related to the region and ethnicity from History at any time, helping you to revise History.
The higher the Decryption Rate, the stronger the effect of the Sacred Relic!
This can only be used once per event."
Byron reached out his hand and plucked gently at the air. When he opened his palm, a rusty, forcibly bent iron nail lay within it.
Violet, a Third Order Artisan, immediately recognized it as a nail specifically used for horseshoes.
However, she remained silent and did not disturb Byron.
When the Decryption Rate of the ’Navy Department’s conspiracy’ reached one hundred percent, he already knew what Sacred Relic he could summon.
—The [First-Class Holy Relic · Nation-Destroying Nail]!
After seeing its powers, he had already figured out exactly how to use it.
At this moment, as the "Touch of the Kraken" swept back toward the fleet.
It was the perfect time to take advantage of their peril and kick them while they were down.
Byron raised the nail high above his head and began chanting a folk song well-known among the Bayfolk:
"Missing a single nail, a horseshoe was lost; a horseshoe was lost, a warhorse was lost; a warhorse was lost, a battle was lost; a battle was lost, a kingdom was lost..."