Londen City, as one of the East Coast's seaports, had its extensive trade network necessitate the construction of improved roads that radiated to the surrounding areas, far surpassing the provincial beaten earth paths. These roads, put together with stone slabs, were worthy of being called highways, facilitating the transport of goods, and wine inns were plentiful along the way.
The convenience of transportation also led to Londen City's mixed population, with peddlers and runners being a di a dozen, and rchants traveling from south to north becoming the easy prey of criminals.
The Black Sail Pirate Group also joined this thriving market, working ticulously and diligently in their ventures.
The early winter sea breeze carried a chill already.
At high noon, the sunlight was abundant. Shadows of leaves danced on the stone-paved road like a kaleidoscope moved by the wind, creating a beautiful and enticing landscape.
But three nacing figures stood starkly out of place in this pretty setting.
Liszt, who was owed money, was walking towards Londen City, heading to the rendezvous point at the inn, about half an hour's distance.
It wasn't that Liszt didn't want to get a few mounts, but with Ox and Rein's stature, they would wear out two horses in a day. Mounts with a large carrying capacity, like the marcher hippogriffs or the lizard-like land dragons, were too expensive; it just wasn't worth the unreasonable cost.
As Liszt walked, he counted his money. The inco from the wine inn plus the previous debts totaled seventy-nine Golden Dragons.
Ox, with his hulking fra, carried his special large sword of over three hundred pounds strapped to his back with ease. His expression was stern, and in his left hand, he carried a heavy sack about the size of a human head. Inside were Aran silver coins, close to seven or eight hundred pieces. Not everyone could afford Golden Dragons.
"A bountiful harvest indeed,"
Rein strolled leisurely, empty-handed and content, fiddling around due to his height and snapping off a tree branch with his claw.
After counting the money, Liszt's gloomy face didn't show any signs of happiness.
Among the core mbers of the gang, not including himself, there were ten people who all had to get their share of the loot, on top of the maintenance costs for the twin-masted sailing ship, the docking fees at the secret port, the necessary procurent of goods at sea, and finally the obligatory tribute to the sheriff of Londen City. After all, conducting business under soone's watch was exceedingly costly, and moreover, they had lost many crew mbers last ti, urgently needing to recruit sailors.
"Damn, when do we start the main storyline mission? This day-to-day crap,"
Liszt secured the money bag with a rope, casually tossing it to Rein. This Werewolf was under his thumb, and he had no fear of him running off. Everyone wanted a peaceful life, but an event seven years earlier had backed him into a corner, forcing him to mix with the sea.
"You're right, but the Black Sail Pirate Group is a brand-new comrcial organization autonomously developed by Liszt. The story takes place on the East Coast of the Western Continent, where you will play the role of a wretch teetering on the edge of life and death, who encounters scum with diverse personalities and unique abilities, to die together in the streets and be exposed in the wilderness,"
Rein weighed the money bag, finding Liszt's way of speaking occasionally interesting with its peculiar turn of phrases.
"Stop harping on, can't you say sothing more auspicious?"
Liszt looked at him as if he were an idiot, perhaps thinking the Werewolf had contracted rabies a long ti ago but had been resisting it with his strong immune system; his ntal state wasn't very stable.
"Main storyline mission, such as?"
Ox had been mixing with the Black Sail for over two years and gradually ca to understand so of Liszt's peculiar vocabulary.
"Like, if I t a woman on the road, a princess in exile, I help her reclaim her throne and incidentally get married, and this princess happens to be an unparalleled beauty. Or I uncover an evil organization plotting to overturn the Western Continent, and steamroll through it until the old Emperor takes a liking to and promotes in rank, or I just take a seat myself. By the way, have I ntioned that I'm an inventor? Hehehe."
Liszt sneered, thinking it was about ti to show off so real skills: steam engines, the industrial revolution, information technology, controllable nuclear fusion, curvature interstellar ships, and ascending to challenge the Immortals.
Wait a second... it seems like my few years of gaming in college have reduced to a simpleton—and perhaps, even worse than that.
No matter.
Although there are many strange races here, the physical laws are damn strict, with chanics and thermodynamics so precise they make Liszt want to cry.
There's no power system, or perhaps there are countless kinds of power systems, and you never know where exactly the strength of those with high combat power lies.
Most of the ti, it's all about sheer strength—like Aran Sword King, who sounds overwhelmingly powerful and genuinely is quite formidable, capable of cutting down many at once. While I've never t such characters in person, maybe they can slash out so sword energy or sothing. But what if I brought the Black Sail Pirate Gang, ten madn who are not afraid to die, and we all ganged up on you? What if we ambushed you, poisoned you, threatened you with hostages? How would you handle that, huh?
Not to ntion the other nine, but when Ox swings his door-like Special Large Sword for a basic attack, cutting three bandits in half at the waist—it's a bloody ss, with guts spilling everywhere, and they drag themselves on the ground for five or six seconds before kicking the bucket.
That being said, Magicians do exist, though they are rare and mostly useless, their parlor tricks amounting to little in terms of combat power.
But so Magicians are extrely terrifying. Ten years ago, Liszt suffered greatly from one, which is hugely related to his arrival here. That kind of Magic had transcended the realm of magic—it was a kind of... force.
Despite spending a decade here, there's still so much Liszt doesn't know about this world.
There's a mber of the Demon Clan among the pirate gang; although just a Low-level Demon, he's a bona fide mber of the Demon Clan. Not from the Western Continent, not from the Northern Cold Land, not from the Far East Islands, nor anywhere else on the map, Liszt found him wandering on a deserted island during a voyage.
According to him, he was a mber of the Demon God Agares·Dagon's expeditionary army, but due to an accident, he was separated from his unit, and after blindly stumbling into an otherworldly gate, he landed on this uncharted territory. He had been living on that deserted island for over ten years, an utterly miserable existence; clueless about his surroundings, his plight was comparable to my own.
Such an adventure once led Liszt to believe he was the key character to so main quest line, only to realize later that he was overthinking it. It was questionable whether the demon was even a match for him; he was incredibly la. With blood-red skin and goat-like horns, he could be quite intimidating to look at, skilled in carpentry and seamstressing, proficient in tool repair—he was kept aboard to work alongside Shadi as a shipwright.
If there's anything exceptional about this demon, it's his extraordinarily tenacious vitality and exaggerated self-healing. You could see his wounds slowly healing before your eyes. If he lost a hand or a foot, he could regrow it in about ten days to two weeks. He could survive without eating, but he wouldn't have much strength; he still needed to eat, otherwise any physical labor left him gasping like a bellows.
Ox looked at Liszt as if he were looking at an idiot. God damn restoration of a kingdom and evil organizations—you're the head of an unlawful organization yourself. Silenced utterly. It's good to have vision, and I joined because I saw you had ambition and played big, but sotis you're too visionary, fantasizing about clichéd story arcs like a simpleton.
"If you're an inventor like , then I think this matter is really..."
Rein knew how much weight Liszt carried, with no relation to being an inventor, but before he could finish,
"Stop your damn babbling. Let's head back to the eting point at the inn. If they haven't finished their business yet, we'll also check out the Underground Bank."
Liszt spoke calmly; these accounts were just the basic security to maintain various expenses. The real deal was the money in the vault—that couldn't be ssed up, otherwise, all this effort would have been for nothing.
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