HoG - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: A New Identity

The navigation log lay open before Byron, its contents revealing his abilities and predicament with such clarity that his future path became immediately apparent.

"For me now," he murmured to himself, "enhancing my supernatural power is the top priority."

Among the two innate abilities that he could activate at all times without consuming spirituality, 'Cognitive Correction' stood out as a top-notch survival skill, despite its current limitations and effectiveness only on low-sequence supernaturals.

"And 'Weather Intuition'—a dream skill for any sailor or navigator!" he exclaimed under his breath.

Yet, for escape and revenge, these two innate abilities were far from sufficient.

"I must complete my profession as soon as possible," he resolved, "and at least obtain a rank in a combat-oriented supernatural sequence to have basic self-defense capabilities."

His thoughts turned to the entry bestowed by the log—'Historical Revisionist'—and he knew he needed to activate it.

"Moreover," he added, raising his left hand, "I happen to have a key item that can be used for the profession ritual."

But as he looked down, his heart sank. The family "signet ring" that should have adorned his index finger was missing! Panic rose within him until he noticed the sapphire buttons on his shirt cuffs were also gone. A calmness settled over him as he realized the implications.

"I was rescued by a merchant ship and then captured by pirates," he reasoned. "Expecting them to leave my belongings untouched is just a dream."

After a moment's hesitation, his resolve hardened.

"First, I need to retrieve the personal items looted by the pirates from the 'Maneater,' especially the most important family 'signet ring.'"

He knew this item, imbued with supernatural power and symbolizing the Lancaster family's sovereignty, was crucial for completing the next supernatural profession ritual and blocking any subsequent divination or pursuit by the York family.

"I'll ride the pirate ship to leave the English coastal waters as quickly as possible," he plotted. "Afterward, whether it's venturing into the vast North Sea or heading to overseas colonies, there are countless opportunities waiting for me."

The 'Navigation Log' would be his guide, allowing him to grow quickly by continuously exploring the unknown world.

"It perfectly fits this era of great navigation," he mused, "which has just begun less than a hundred years ago and still has many blanks on the map."

Excluding the self-entrapping path of the navy, other options like privateer captain, pirate, independent adventurer, bounty hunter... were all viable!

Byron grabbed the carved decoration on the stern gallery of the pirate ship and climbed up silently, his movements fluid and purposeful.

At the end of the log, a line of ink wrote: The Lancaster's hatred is hidden for now, but there will come a day when blood and fire sing together.

Meanwhile, in the kitchen located in the lower deck of the "Maneater," a young man wearing a white chef's hat stood frozen in front of the cutting board, a kitchen knife in hand.

Outside the porthole, the screams of the merchant ship's sailors transitioned from high-pitched to weak, then to silence. The young man muttered to himself, his expression bordering on madness.

"I didn't do anything wrong!" he insisted. "The captain insisted on that ridiculous chivalric code, vowing to protect Lord Crawford's property, which was the backbone of the now-defunct Lancaster faction."

He recalled warning the captain that the eight virtues of knighthood were all jokes on the treacherous high seas, and old-fashioned diehards didn't last long.

"If the captain hadn't recklessly led the charge team to counterattack the pirate ship, I wouldn't have shot him in the back," he confessed. "It's said that the captain of the Maneater, 'Blood Eye' Salman, is ruthless and a powerful supernatural. Once he makes a move, everyone dies. Now, at least I've survived, which is completely worth it!"

But as he looked down at the ingredients on the cutting board, panic replaced his momentary relief.

"I'm just an ordinary sailor and part-time cook," he lamented. "Even the crude crew members complain about my cooking skills. How could I possibly know how to prepare exquisite noble dishes?"

He was acutely aware of the England's culinary limitations, knowing that only by going to the neighboring France could he hope to satisfy the palate of the ferocious 'Blood Eye' captain.

"Those pirates said to prepare myself," he fretted, "as they'll soon take me to meet the ferocious 'Blood Eye' to understand his tastes and prepare meals."

His anxiety was palpable as he paced back and forth, the sound of his footsteps echoing ominously on the lower deck.

The young man, the cook from the Pelican merchant ship, was the only one given a chance to survive, as mentioned by the first mate "Bone Crusher" Miles. However, the premise was that he must use his experience of "serving nobles" to conquer the discerning palate of Captain 'Blood Eye' Salman of the Maneater.

Unfortunately, he was just a self-aggrandizing imposter.

The thought of this pirate captain, like the "cannibals" in stories, eating live people, terrified him to the core.

He looked around, finding the kitchen empty, with no pirates paying attention to him.

Gripping the kitchen knife, he approached the porthole, intending to stick his head out to see if he could escape by jumping into the sea. But the fear of the sharks that had devoured his companions made him pull his head back in. His indecision was a vivid testament to his fear.

As the seconds ticked by, the sound of pirates' footsteps echoed ominously outside the kitchen once more. The young man, driven by a surge of desperation, gritted his teeth and cautiously extended his head out of the porthole.

In an instant, a powerful hand, as unyielding as an iron hoop, clamped down on his neck from below the porthole.

Snap!

Without a moment to plead for mercy, his neck was twisted with merciless precision, snapping it.

As the cook's vision darkened and his consciousness began to fade, he heard a cold, emotionless voice declare, "Traitors deserve to die!"

It was Byron, who had just scaled the pirate ship from the stern, overhearing the last survivor of the merchant ship muttering to himself. Without hesitation, he had acted decisively.

Seizing the cook by his broken neck, Byron dragged the upper half of his body out of the porthole. Noticing the kitchen knife still clutched tightly in the cook's hand, Byron realized that had he not been decisive, he might now be nursing an injury.

He snatched the kitchen knife and, with an impassive expression, made several deep cuts on the cook's body before casually discarding the corpse into the sea. He watched dispassionately as the body was engulfed by a swarm of man-eating sharks.

Only then did he turn and climb through the porthole into the kitchen.

He picked up the chef's hat that had fallen to the ground during the struggle, dusted it off, and placed it atop his head. As he turned, a deep blue spiritual light, reminiscent of the sea, emanated from his eyes, and Byron's demeanor transformed in the blink of an eye.

This was his innate ability, 'Cognitive Correction.'

"In this scenario," he mused, "calling it 'Psychological Disguise Technique' might be more fitting."

He examined his hands, which appeared unchanged on the surface, yet now bore the cook's image, name, demeanor, and all his characteristics. To any onlooker, he was the cook, and Byron had seemingly vanished from the world.

It was akin to someone born with red-green color blindness, unaware of their condition until informed by another.

"Though this identity lacks high status, it's on par with the pirate officers—the first mate, second mate, helmsman, and gunnery officer. As a newcomer, like myself, it has no established memories of interactions with the pirates and no need to inherit the original interpersonal relationships. It's the perfect guise for me to blend into the 'Maneater' and hitch a ride."

Bang!

The kitchen door swung open abruptly, and a young-looking pirate stepped inside. He paused briefly upon seeing the figure in the chef's hat before greeting him with a natural ease.

"New cook, the great Captain 'Blood Eye' awaits you. Follow me at once. By the way, I haven't asked your name yet."

Straightening his hat, Byron smiled amiably at the young pirate.

"Byron," he replied smoothly, "my name is Byron Tudor."