Chapter 104: Encounter with the Whale (Part One)

Compared to the naval battles fought on calm seas, the clash within the descending passage of the Inverted Mountain resembled a high-octane car chase straight out of a movie: two vehicles pursuing each other in rapid succession, exchanging gunfire at breakneck speeds, the roar of engines harmonizing with the whistle of bullets.

In this ultimate display of violent beauty, one’s adrenaline would inevitably surge.

Yet, the pirates leading the chase never anticipated this: the driver of the trailing “vehicle” suddenly leapt from it, completing the entire pursuit with nothing but his own legs.

The waves in this channel were wild and tempestuous, white foam bursting endlessly atop the restless waters, yet Garen sprinted across the roaring currents as if they were solid ground.

Witnessing this literal “tide rider,” the pirates aboard the lead ship—who had relied on their heavily armed and armored vessel to dominate—could no longer laugh.

The Ironclad Pirates, a third-rate band from the Northern Sea, were named for their uniquely armored steam-sail warships.

Although their steam-sail hybrid vessels, equipped with breech-loading rifled cannons, exerted an era-defining advantage over ordinary ships, this pirate crew remained little more than a third-rate outfit in the eyes of most.

In this world, no matter how advanced the technology, it was still no match for raw skill.

The Ironclad Pirates possessed advanced armored warships but lacked formidable fighters to uphold their reputation.

This flaw proved fatal, as shown now:

“Wrath of Justice!”

Garen sprang from the water into midair, and in an instant, his greatsword blazed with a sacred flame of golden-red hue.

His movements were so swift that the pirates on the armored ship’s deck barely saw a flash before a flame brighter than the sun appeared overhead.

Before they could react, Garen drove this holy fire down onto the pirates with crushing force:

“Judgment!”

Still midair, he gripped the blazing greatsword and spun it rapidly.

The “Wrath of Justice” skill’s sacred flame did not vanish when Garen used other techniques; instead, it fused with them to create a more extraordinary effect:

The golden-red flames twisted and warped as Garen rotated his sword, merging seamlessly with the raging storm winds swirling around.

Fire feeding wind, wind fueling fire—they combined, giving birth to a fiery tornado encircling Garen’s entire form, moving with him through the crowd.

Any pirate caught in this infernal vortex was scorched by flames, shredded by the slicing winds, and cleaved by the heavy blade before they could even cry out, their remains reduced to unrecognizable charred fragments.

The fusion of these two skills made Garen’s mowing down of enemies terrifyingly efficient.

What had been a crowded deck was swiftly swept clean by the fiery tempest, leaving a blood-soaked wasteland.

Though the Ironclad ship’s hull was sheathed in steel plates, its deck was still wooden—to ensure heat insulation, anti-slip, and sun protection.

The wooden deck ignited instantly upon contact with Garen’s flaming tornado, burning to ash and exposing the steel layers beneath, glowing red-hot from the searing heat.

Charred bodies lay strewn in disarray, the lingering golden flames stubbornly consuming the wood, while the foul stench of burnt flesh permeated the scorching air.

In a single encounter, Garen effortlessly wiped out nearly one-third of the Ironclad Pirates’ crew.

Staring at this stranger who cut down foes like slicing through melons and vegetables, the pirates were struck with terror and chills down their spines, frozen in place.

Suddenly, a towering, muscular man over ten feet tall, wielding a hundred-pound long axe and incongruously out of place against the high-tech ship, displayed extraordinary courage and charged at the now steady Garen.

“Slash!”

Garen stamped the ground, unleashing the “Sixth Style: Slash” technique, erupting with astonishing speed.

His flaming greatsword left a golden-red afterimage as he moved.

Before the axe could fall, the giant felt a burning pain in his wrist; his broad hand was cleanly severed by the keen blade, the searing flames instantly turning the exposed bone and flesh into a blurred, charred mess.

The axe and severed hand flew away, and Garen’s lightning-fast figure had already prepared his next move:

“Justice of Demacia!”

Without any wasted motion, a golden sword light descended from the heavens, striking the enemy’s head and instantly claiming his life.

With the death of this axe-wielding giant, any flicker of resistance among the pirates completely vanished.

Garen scanned the terrified faces around him before coldly demanding:

“Who is your captain?”

Silence fell, broken only by the roar of the waves.

Just as Garen was about to show displeasure, a few timid voices finally emerged from the group:

“The one you just killed was the captain.”

“Is that so?”

Garen glanced in surprise at the lifeless, unseeing giant on the deck.

This hulking axe wielder looked more like a prehistoric brute than the captain of a high-tech vessel.

But on reflection, it made sense: the captain was usually the strongest fighter aboard, and this giant was certainly far stronger than the helpless pirate grunts.

“That’s right!”

Seeing Garen’s disbelief, a pirate hurriedly explained:

“He’s the captain of the Ironclad Pirates, with a bounty of fifty million Beli…”

Before the explanation finished, Garen blurted out his doubt:

“That weakling is worth fifty million Beli?”

Though the giant’s attacks seemed fierce, his movements were sluggish and steps slow; his swings lacked any real lethality.

His strength was clearly insufficient, and his gaze vacant and listless, his entire demeanor fatigued.

Compared to the enormous bounty, Garen could only describe this opponent as “frail.”

“It’s really fifty million!”

The pirates, wary of the killing machine before them, continued their explanation cautiously:

“If you don’t believe us, you can check the bounty orders.”

“Even a fifty-million bounty pirate is one-shotted?”

Garen rubbed his chin, murmuring to himself:

“Have I really become this strong?”

“Well then…”

Garen dismissed the matter and addressed the pirates:

“What about your vice-captain?”

He merely wished to find someone in charge to properly assess the spoils he had just claimed.

“Vice-captain?”

The pirates’ gazes immediately converged on two men standing nearby.

“That one is the vice-captain!”

Without hesitation, one pirate betrayed his comrade, shoving him toward Garen.

The man pushed forward appeared around forty, with graying temples and beard, sunken eyes, prominent cheekbones, and a lifeless stare—looking even more feeble than the fifty-million bounty giant.

The middle-aged pirate staggered before Garen, his face pale as paper and further drained of color upon seeing Garen’s expression.

He clutched Garen’s leg nervously and stammered:

“I—I’m not the vice-captain! The one who pushed me is…”

But before he could finish, Garen lost interest.

Not only him; everyone present was distracted by a sudden, shadowy silhouette appearing ahead in the channel, engulfing the sky and obscuring all vision.

Unbeknownst to them, the Ironclad ship had reached the end of the descending passage through the Inverted Mountain.

But ahead was not the endless Great Sea Route, but an immense mountain, impossible to describe in scale.

Its surface was a deep blue, nearly black, emitting an eerie glow; it bore no resemblance to a mountain but more to the skin of a sea creature.

The pirates were struck with alarm:

“What mountain is that ahead?!”

“We’re going to crash!”

As terror gripped them, an even more horrifying sight unfolded:

The massive mountain trembled slightly, then a single eye, larger than the entire Ironclad ship, suddenly gazed upon them.

Thus, a tragedy named “What are you looking at?” was inevitable.