The silver-haired girl gently soothed the unconscious Carla in her arms. Even though a shark-headed pirate stood barely two steps away, she did not flinch. Her calm eyes remained fixed on the distant figure of a warrior engulfed in flames.
With graceful composure, she nodded politely toward Aldric, the corners of her lips curling into a faint, comforting smile — the kind of smile one might give upon meeting an old friend in a foreign land full of strangers.
As the swirling flames around Aldric gradually dispersed, his previously ridiculous one-piece sailor uniform vanished. In its place appeared a long robe, black as the night sky.
The curved blade in his hand seemed to melt into liquid iron, dripping away between his fingers. In the next moment, the molten metal reshaped itself into a massive greatsword nearly two meters in length.
Gripping the sword with both hands, Aldric pressed his forehead against the blade in solemn respect — a gesture mirroring the silver-haired woman's earlier nod. On a battlefield consumed by chaos, every companion-in-arms was a treasure beyond price.
Fueled by fierce determination, Aldric charged forward with his sword blazing, cutting down every enemy that blocked his path — shark-headed pirates, grotesque octopus-like abominations, and even newly arrived crab warriors clad in heavy armor.
To the Witcher Aldric, all were equal before his blade.
On that blood-soaked deck filled with enemies, he carved a path through carnage and fire. The countless corpses he left in his wake turned to ash within the flames. None could withstand a single strike from his sword.
In the distance, the giant Bart let out one final roar. Covered in enemies, he leaped decisively into the chaotic sea below.
Overhead, the angel Liam descended with a piercing cry, spear in hand, diving straight into the fray. His lance carved a deep gash into the giant octopus's massive head — but before he could pull away, a sudden tentacle lashed out, coiling around him and dragging him into the creature's gaping maw lined with countless blade-like teeth.
Meanwhile, Carla, still unconscious in the silver-haired woman's arms, furrowed her delicate brows as though enduring a nightmare of unbearable pain.
"It's all right," the silver-haired woman whispered softly into her ear. "The flames of iron and blood burn for your soul. You will be redeemed, just as I was. We are the fortunate ones. Do not be afraid — everything will pass."
Her gentle voice and reassuring touch seemed to soothe the girl. Carla's tense expression slowly relaxed. The few shark-men who had managed to close in on them froze under the silver-haired woman's gaze — and in the next moment, like candles before a fierce wind, they melted away, leaving only liquid remains seeping into the deck.
After devouring the angelic Liam, the monstrous octopus began to writhe violently. From its body burst forth a swarm of hideous hybrids — creatures with bird heads and human bodies, covered in blue feathers, their sharp eagle eyes filled with malice. Each carried a jagged bone spear capable of piercing even the thickest armor.
Yet the Witcher remained unscathed.
With flawless precision and unmatched swordsmanship, Aldric cleaved through every incoming spear before it could reach him.
Once, in his dreams, his favorite fantasy had been to slice bullets in midair with his sword — to split them cleanly along their axis, letting the two halves whistle past him harmlessly. It had been his ultimate dream as a young man.
Now, wielding [Nahl's Flame Greatsword], he stood at the center of a two-meter radius of death. Within that invisible boundary, every enemy who stepped close was instantly obliterated, every attack deflected before it could land.
And that fiery domain was slowly pushing forward — directly toward the monstrous octopus at the edge of the deck.
…
Meanwhile, inside the Gilded Eye Jewelry House, the witch stood in the corner, keeping as far from Aldric as possible.
Earlier that day, the young Witcher had destroyed her concealment array, causing her significant losses and to make matters worse, he had even flaunted his equipment right in front of her.
So, when she noticed that the apprentice Witcher seemed to be under some kind of charm spell, she hadn't hesitated. With a sharp slap, she snapped him back to his senses.
What she hadn't expected was what came next — the moment she struck him, the apprentice had ignited like a torch. At first, the witch thought he was under attack by Chaos and attempted to extinguish the flames with her magic.
But before her spell could even reach him, it was burned away in midair. The fire consumed everything — yet strangely, it did not harm the Witcher himself. His clothes, the floorboards beneath him, and even the nearby furniture remained untouched.
It wasn't an illusion — she could feel the immense, terrifying power emanating from those flames.
Ordinary fire couldn't hurt her, but the sheer pressure radiating from this one forced her to retreat step by step. All the while, the girl named Carla, floating beside Aldric seemed to bask in sunlight, her face peaceful and relaxed.
Just then, the door to the jewelry house creaked open again. A familiar figure entered — the goblin Razel Poisonblade, who had once ambushed Aldric.
Razel was one of the intermediaries between Mama and the coven of witches, which granted him permission to enter the Gilded Eye at night. But what he saw inside left him stunned: the same Witcher he'd attacked earlier was now standing at the center of the room, engulfed in flames like a living pyre.
A middle-aged man in armor lay unconscious in one corner, while a girl hovered eerily in midair beside the burning hunter.
Even knowing the witch's mysterious background — someone even Mama dared not provoke too deeply — Razel couldn't make sense of what he was witnessing. Especially since he recognized all three people in the room.
The unconscious knight by the door, Razel remembered his impressive swordsmanship during their duel.
The girl floating in the air was his daughter; if Mama hadn't ordered them released, he might have had a chance to kiss her—a reason for his hostility towards the newcomer from Cerys.
But the one who unnerved him the most was the Witcher himself. Seeing Aldric now, wreathed in holy fire, Razel couldn't help but feel weak in the knees. Was today some kind of revenge festival? Buy one enemy, get two free?
Across the room, the witch considered whether she should start manually controlling the identification wards on the entrance from now on.
"Mama sent me to tell you," Razel began nervously, bowing his head to avoid the witch's gaze, "the Black Ship has changed course and increased speed. It may reach the port before dawn."
The witch's expression darkened instantly.
Still bowing, the goblin continued, "Mama also asked whether you plan to act early. She wishes to know what price the witches are willing to pay for this… unexpected turn of events."
The witch's eyes narrowed. "And what does Lannister want in return?"
"The Black Ship," Razel answered quickly, not daring to lift his head. "Mama wants that ship."
(End of Chapter)