Chapter 52. Beginning
"Jerald," the burly man introduced himself before Kord could. "I heard that you want to collaborate with Kord to deal with that fat pig. I admire your guts."
Charles remained silent and turned his gaze onto Kord.
A laugh escaped Kord's lips as he explained, "It would be hard to deal with 'King' with our numbers. So I went to find Captain Jerald. His strength will be of aid to us."
"The fat pig raided my goods and even took my ship away! I've got a score to settle with him that will last a lifetime!" Traces of simmering rage were evident on Jerald's face. Emerging from n0v@lbin☆, this material harbors clandestine details.
A flicker of understanding appeared on Charles' face. It seemed like Kord had sought the aid of "King's" enemy. It was good news, though—More heads meant more strength.
"Cut the chit-chat. I know this place better than you two. I will formulate a plan," Jerald stated curtly as he demanded control of the collaborative operation.
"Five days later, Sottom will reach the vicinity of a new island. Most of that pig's fleet will leave to plunder the docks. This is an opportunity for us. My men will draw out the pig, Kord will send his followers to intercept his underlings, as for you..." Jerald's words trailed off as his gaze landed on Charles.
"I will infiltrate 'King's' residence, keep some of his men busy, and at the same time search for the thing that Kord and I want," Charles continued.
"But I seriously doubt your capabilities. Will you be of use there? I can hardly smell the scent of blood on you; you probably haven't killed many," Jerald remarked with his arms folded across his chest as he stared at Charles with skepticism filling his gaze.
Charles looked at the man indifferently and replied, "Even if I went there and died there, it would still serve our purpose."
Jerald shrugged in response. "That's true indeed. But whatever. You are just an additional manpower, after all. It's Kord's men that I truly need. That pig has been sitting in that position for far too long."
Acting like the pacifist he was, Kord stood up with a chuckle and said, "Great, we all get what we want from this collaboration. That will be the best outcome."
However, the moment Jerald left the room, Kord's smile gave way to a look of solemnity. He looked at Charles and said, "He's no match for 'King'. You better find that sea chart before he dies."
Charles scoffed inwardly. Even with a part of the neural networks in his brain destroyed, the cunning old fox before him was no pushover, letting others risk their lives while he sat back and reap the benefits.
"Do you have any information to aid in the infiltration? Perhaps a map of 'King's' residence? Or where he might place important items?" Charles asked.
Initially, Charles was still fearful that he might get caught and remained cautious. But after he jimmied open door after door to find no soul in sight, he grew bold and rapidly rummaged through room after room.
Contrary to the quiet interior, Charles' acute hearing could pick up the escalating chaos outside. He knew he had reached a crucial juncture. It was getting chaotic outside, and he had to find the sea chart before "King" returned.
Just as Charles pulled open a drawer, he felt a sudden breath of warmth on his neck. It was as though someone was breathing down his collar.
Swish!
With a swift movement, Charles fished out his blade in a backhand grip and slashed against the air behind him before he executed a backflip to land atop a table.
There was not a single soul to be seen in the room that was in utter disarray from his earlier rummaging.
Puzzled, Charles slowly turned around and continued his search.
Screech.
The wooden chair beside him suddenly moved an inch. This time, Charles acted as though he heard nothing and continued with his task.
Without any forewarning, the door suddenly slammed shut with a bang, and the click of the lock sounded. Charles was now trapped in the room.
"Hoho. A haunted ship, huh? This wretched place is so dangerous and yet you ghosts dare to join the party?"
With a pulled-out drawer in his hands, Charles turned around and stared at the locked door. He retrieved a bomb from his bag, lit the fuse, and tossed it toward the door.
As though influenced by some mysterious force, the dynamite suddenly made a U-turn mid-air and flew back toward Charles.
With a swift motion of his blade, he cleaved the bomb in half. In that instant, every sharp object in the room levitated into the air and flew toward Charles.
Plop! Plop! Plop!
The raised wooden table blocked the trajectories of these objects. Charles pushed the wooden table aside before he lunged forward toward the door. With the black blade in his hand, he plunged it into the lock, traced the internal mechanism, and burst open the door and landed in the majestic hallway.
Suddenly, the exquisite pottery in the hallway shattered into pieces, and the sharp shards levitated into the air.