Chapter 133: Buying Time (2)

At that moment, on the other side... aboard the ironclad where Hardin and the Daphne Knights were onboard.

"This, this... it really works like a charm!"

Hardin placed his hands on his hips and curled up the corners of his lips in a grin.

Dozens of cannonballs fired by the enemy—

Thanks to confirming that none of them could pierce through this ironclad.

"Fire away, go ahead and shoot all you want. As if that’s going to sink this ship!"

Of course, if there was one tiny issue...

“Blaaaargh!”

“We—we’re going to fall!”

Splash! Splash!

Perhaps because of the impact from the cannonballs, the ship rocked violently from side to side without rest.

As a result, the sailors tumbled here and there, groaning from seasickness and stomach pain.

Fortunately...

“Everyone, hold on tight!”

“Th-thank you!”

“Hey now! Why can’t you withstand this?”

The knights standing on the deck dashed around nimbly as if it were solid ground, grabbing and saving the struggling sailors in the midst of danger.

Since each ship had at least six or seven knights assigned aboard, there wouldn’t be any major problems.

Hardin twitched his lips and nodded with satisfaction.

‘Well, all that grueling training paid off.’

Most of the knights looked confused as to why the sailors couldn’t keep their balance.

But even just a month ago, those very knights probably weren’t much different.

All of this—was the result of the training they'd endured over the past month, smashing their heads into the water at Rocky Isle.

‘They’re instinctively adjusting their balance by naturally controlling their mana.’

A remarkable improvement in their mana control skills.

Thanks to that, they were able to quickly adjust their body balance and firmly hold their ground like deep-rooted trees even amidst the chaos.

‘Well, that’s not all of it though.’

It was then—

“Dammit! Get up already!”

Mikkelsen grabbed a collapsed sailor off the floor and shouted toward Hardin.

“Young Master, are we really doing this right?”

“What? What’s the problem?”

“What do you mean, what’s the problem! We’re just getting pounded one-sidedly!”

“Come on, just look at the ship—it’s perfectly fine. There’s nothing wrong.”

When Hardin asserted firmly,

“Uuugh!”

Roll roll roll!

“Catch him!”

Thud!

Mikkelsen grabbed another sailor rolling away and cried out in urgency.

“I mean, I get that! But shouldn’t we at least fight back or do something? We can’t just keep taking hits like this!”

“Fight back? With what?”

“Excuse me? Well, with our cannons, obviously...”

When Mikkelsen responded as if it were only natural, Hardin shrugged and replied,

“We don’t have those.”

“What?”

“No cannons. It’s heavy as hell just mounting the iron plating—how could we possibly load something like that?”

“……”

Mikkelsen darted his eyes around, scanning the hull.

‘W-wait, seriously nothing?’

He looked here, there—

Even if he scoured every corner with his eyes wide open, there wasn’t anything even remotely resembling a cannon onboard.

“You’re kidding me, right?”

“Kidding? In this situation?”

“Are you kidding me! This is insane!”

Mikkelsen clutched at his hair and screamed.

This was the ship Hardin had shoved them onto without a single explanation.

Just bringing this heavy thing all the way here had been chaotic enough that he hadn’t paid any attention—but no cannons?

“Then why the hell did we come all the way out here on this ship?!”

“I already explained everything before we left. We’re supposed to stall for time out here.”

“You mean that whole thing about stalling until the princess arrives? But if that was the goal, we could’ve just followed the original plan and defended from the shoreline!”

“That had obvious limits.”

“What?”

“You’ll see soon enough. You’ll get what I mean.”

Damn it, what was he supposed to see at this point?!

As Mikkelsen’s face twisted in frustration, Hardin turned away and spoke.

“Anyway, everyone get your heads straight. Unless you wanna die.”

Just then—

KWA-GWANG! KWA-GWANG-GWANG!

Tread’s fleet once again let loose a barrage, rocking the ship violently.

“P-please spare us!”

The conscripts on the deck rolled around in panic.

Mikkelsen’s brow twitched.

“Damn it all to hell!”

What kind of insane operation was this?!

Left with no time to argue, Mikkelsen ran around rescuing the sailors himself.

How long had he been doing that?

“Haaah, haaah... Damn it, I’m gonna die.”

Around the time the knights were drenched in sweat—

The barrage of cannon fire suddenly ceased, and silence fell over the ship.

‘Is it over?’

‘...What’s going on?’

While they caught their breath for a moment—

“The enemy’s raising their sails!”

SFX: SHHHWAAAA!

Tread’s ships unfurled their sails and began to pick up speed again.

“Damn it, they’re closing in fast!”

Shouts from sailors echoed all over.

At this rate, it wouldn’t even take ten minutes before the enemy reached them.

Mikkelsen’s face turned deathly pale.

“Shit... what do we do now, Young Master?!”

“What now?”

“What do you mean what?! If those bastards reach us, it’s game over!”

In that instant, a memory from just a few hours ago flashed through Mikkelsen’s mind—

—Row! Quickly, quickly!

—Nnnngh! Aaaargh!

Because of all the iron plating slapped onto the hull, the ship barely moved.

They had to raise all the sails, row like mad, and ride the currents just right—it had taken all their might to get here.

And to make matters worse, the wind was a tailwind for Count Tread’s ships but a headwind for theirs.

No exaggeration—it meant their ship was basically a turtle.

Sure, the absurdly thick armor could block cannon fire.

But there was absolutely no way to outrun Count Tread’s fast-approaching ships.

If, by some chance, Tread’s fleet managed to board their ship…

‘T-that’s it! That’d be the end of everything!’

Mikkelsen vividly imagined the sight of himself getting his head cleanly lopped off by the swords of Tread’s knights as they crossed over to their ship.

“Uwaaaaah!”

“Y-young Master! Orders!”

Just as Mikkelsen and the rest of the sailors were spiraling into panic—

“Let’s see here…”

Pluck!

Hardin pulled out a single strand of hair and held it up.

Whoooosh!

It fluttered with the wind, then vanished into the air.

Hardin raised the corners of his mouth in a smirk and spoke.

“Don’t worry. As long as we keep holding out like this... everything will work out.”

“Work out, my ass!”

Was some ancestral ghost supposed to come knock out the enemy warships for them or something?!

Mikkelsen and the knights looked like they were on the verge of tears.

At that moment, Hardin reached for the horn hanging at his waist and grabbed it.

BWOOOOOOOOOO!

He blew it with all his might, then raised his arm high and shouted.

“Line up the ships in a row!”

Immediately—

“He said to line up the ships!”

“Helmsmen, move!”

Chaarararak!

Almost simultaneously, the helmsmen aboard the five ironclads yanked their wheels into position.

This was all thanks to one specific order Hardin had given them just before they boarded the ships—

—When I blow the horn later, align the ships in a straight line like this.

—In formation? What are you planning to do?

—You don’t need to know the details. Just follow the order.

None of the helmsmen, knights, or conscripts aboard the ships had the slightest clue what was going on.

They were supposed to block the route and stall for time.

But lining up the ships like that was basically opening a path for the enemy.

Still, what could they do?

“Move it, move it! Quickly now!”

It was the order of the Knight Commander, and the Young Master himself.

“Steer it nowww!”

“Damn it alllll!”

As they adjusted the sails and wrestled with the rudders, straining with all their might to reposition the ships—

A sailor suddenly shouted like thunder.

“They’re cominggggg!”

One of the ships in Count Tread’s fleet—particularly fast—was speeding toward Hardin’s ship.

At that pace, it would reach them in just a few short minutes.

Blood ran cold, and hearts pounded.

“Damn it! Young Master, is this really the right move? At this rate, we’ll be dead in the water, all of us drowned!”

As Mikkelsen shouted in desperation, the knights and conscripts on board also seemed shaken—fear rising on their faces.

Then… Hardin’s expression wiped clean of its usual smirk.

WHACK!

“Aaargh!”

He slammed his fist down hard on the crown of Mikkelsen’s head.

“Shut it, and do as you’re told.”

“B-but!”

And at that moment—

BOOOOOM!

Suddenly, a thunderous boom erupted from the rear, and the ship shook violently.

Hardin rushed toward the noise and peeked over the side.

“Damn it! It won’t budge!”

The ship right behind his had gotten wedged between Hardin’s stern and a reef, completely stuck and unable to move.

Hardin scowled and shouted.

“Manton! Why the hell haven’t you gotten it out yet?!”

“S-sorry, Young Master! The bow’s caught between the reef—we’ll need some time to free her!”

“How much time?”

“Excuse me?”

“How much time do you need, damn it?!”

With a serious expression and a cold voice, Hardin pressed him. Manton clenched his lips and answered.

“Ten minutes… No, I think I can get it out within fifteen at most!”

“Then get moving. I’ll buy you that time.”

“Wait, what do you mean by—”

Hardin didn’t respond. He simply turned around and drew the sword from his waist, shouting.

“Everyone, battle stations!”

“B-battle?”

“Whaaat?”

The knights and soldiers turned pale and froze in place.

‘He’s really planning to fight at sea?’

‘Is he serious?’

Naturally, they’d all assumed they’d be fighting the enemy after they landed.

That was the original plan, and the only scenario where they had any real chance of winning.

No one here had ever imagined they’d engage Count Tread’s forces on the open sea.

But… now, there was no choice left.

“They’re cominggggg!”

BOOOM!

“Ugh!”

One of the lead warships rammed its prow—equipped with a ram—straight into the bow of Hardin’s ship.

Thanks to the iron plating, the hull held strong with little damage…

But the soldiers standing on deck were jostled harshly, some even falling to the floor.

And then—

Whrrr! Clack!

Hooked ropes flew over from the enemy ship and latched on.

THUMP!

“Board them!”

“Attaaaack!”

Thick wooden planks dropped between the ships as enemy soldiers charged across them.

“Out of the wayyyy!”

Just then… the lead knight who crossed first charged with glowing blue eyes and blade.

“Get lost.”

“…?!”

CLAAANG!

Hardin’s sword strike shattered the enemy knight’s blade completely—

WHAM!

Then he kicked the plank right out from under him.

“Eeeek!”

The startled knight clung to the ship’s railing with both hands—

CRACK! SPLASH!

Hardin’s sword sliced through his wrists, sending him plunging into the sea.

In that brief moment of reprieve, Hardin turned his head to the side.

“Damn youuuu!”

“Get lost, bastards!”

Alongside Hardin, Mikkelsen and the Daphne Knights had split up across the deck, swinging their swords at the Tread knights crossing the planks.

Their faces showed a frantic mix of urgency and terror.

But...

CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!

They were holding their ground, swinging their swords well.

‘What the hell… These guys... aren’t from Tread?’

‘This is more doable than I thought.’

In fact, they were even managing to push back the enemy.

After exchanging blades a few times, the Daphne Knights began to gain confidence in their movements—and in themselves.

“Hyaaaah!”

“Outta the wayyyy!”

Some of the enemies gave up on crossing via planks and leapt directly onto the deck—

CLANG! CLAAANG!

“Back off!”

“Uwaaaaaah!”

While the enemy struggled to keep their balance on the rocking ship, the Daphne knights, though slightly shaken, fought as if they were on solid ground—barely affected.

‘These guys… are strong!’

‘Weren’t we told their knight order was a joke?’

The formerly confident Tread knights now wore expressions of shock and confusion.

As the battle dragged on, contrary to their initial expectations—

“Uwaaaah!”

“Fire!”

The conscripts stationed on the ship let loose arrows or thrust spears at the enemy knights.

“D-damn it alllll!”

SPLASH!

Caught off guard while crossing the planks, the enemy began to tumble into the sea one by one.

“Gaaah!”

Even those who made it onto the deck couldn’t withstand the relentless onslaught—either collapsing or getting their throats slashed.

It was, quite literally, a relentless assault.

As enemy casualties continued to mount one after another, the Daphne knights began to wear expressions of growing confidence.

‘Is this... the result of our training?’

‘After practicing how to stand on water, fighting like this isn’t so bad.’

For the past month, they’d undergone brutal mana control training, falling into the water night after night until it nearly killed them.

You didn’t need to be a genius to realize this was the fruit of that effort.

In the midst of that ongoing battle—

“Ha ha! Good, good! Come at me all you want, you pathetic idiots!”

Now pumped up, Mikkelsen kicked away a plank in front of him and thrust out his sword, shouting with joy.

Just then—

“Hey, move!”

Hardin furrowed his brow and yelled at Mikkelsen.

“Huh? Move what?”

“Get down!”

Tatatat! Tatat!

Still confused, Mikkelsen casually deflected a few incoming arrows with his round shield.

“This? No need to make such a fuss—”

At that moment.

“Huh?”

A flicker of light drew closer from a diagonal angle, catching Mikkelsen’s eye.

Then—

“…?”

He saw a surge of blue light racing toward him like a bolt of lightning.

Far too late to dodge.

“Sh-shockwa—”

And at that exact moment—

WHAM!

“Gahhh!”

Hardin launched himself forward, grabbed Mikkelsen by the waist, and hurled him away.

BOOOOOOM!

A blue flash exploded upon impact where it landed.

Hardin rolled to his feet and, in the same motion, kicked Mikkelsen hard in the ribs as he shouted.

“Are you out of your damn mind?”

“S-sorry!”

Mikkelsen, face pale as a sheet, scrambled to his feet.

Had it not been for Hardin—or if he’d been even a second too late—he knew full well that he would’ve been engulfed by that blue flash.

At that moment, a circular shadow loomed over Hardin’s body.

CLAAANG!

Hardin spun swiftly and swung his sword upward, sending sparks flying. The shadow was knocked back and landed lightly on the deck.

“It’s been a while, Young Master Hardin.”

The moment he laid eyes on him, Mikkelsen’s eyes widened.

‘That guy... isn’t he—?’

A rough-looking man with a large scar running across one of his eyes stood on the deck.

And Mikkelsen realized immediately—it was none other than the captain of Count Tread’s forces, the same man who had recently led the blockade at Mudside: Chillas.

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