XIV. College Student but Pirate Captain

Two thousand meters underground.

Dark Matter Research Institute.

The tunnels, carved by modern machinery, still had droplets of water clinging to the walls. The pale light of the industrial lamps shone on the steel framework of the pier, as students wearing visitor badges and research coats walked past it one after another.

"What's wrong with you?"

A college girl with light golden hair and azure eyes asked Liszt.

At that moment, Liszt seemed extremely odd.

"It was like... I had a really long dream, so vivid. Ten years have gone by, no... in that world, there were sixteen months in a year, so more than a decade."

Liszt stood there, dazed, looking around. It was indeed a nightmare—an eternity each day, scheming, living on the edge, killing like hemp, completely transformed into another person.

At this time, he had no beard, his face was clean without any horrifying wounds, an exchange student who had traveled to North America and was now visiting the Dark Matter Research Institute.

Since it was a rare opportunity, the university organized all the best students from the engineering departments, who had come from all over the world, nearly filling up the institute.

Because a more advanced Dark Matter Research Institute had become operational, the one they were visiting had its secrecy lifted and was semi-open to the public.

"Are you... Sharon?"

Liszt placed his hands on her shoulders. It was indeed nostalgic, indescribable, this experience of reuniting with someone from a past life whom he had an ambiguous relationship with. It was too strange.

"I thought it was impossible. There was a malfunction in the institute, the terrifying spells of a Dimensional Mage, hunting down all the unstable souls across dimensions."

It was finally over, Liszt thought.

It was all a dream; all the students here had been hunted down and taken to a different world, imprisoned in the Northern Prison as materials for that Magician. It was all fantasy.

Sharon's face began to dissolve.

"Of course, it is real. Have you forgotten? After the riot broke out in the prison, we all got separated. The Magician is still looking for us; the entire world is hunting us down. Now, only you can save me."

The entire institute started to burn, turning everything into ash.

And there was some violent banging sound, as if to tear the entire space apart.

Londen City, secret port, Sea Erosion Cliff Giant Cave.

Morning.

Amidst the violent knocking,

Liszt, hungover, suddenly woke from the nightmare, he sat up abruptly and gasped as if he had been suffocating for ten thousand years. His chest heaved violently and his back was covered in cold sweat.

"Who is it?"

Liszt pulled out the dagger from beside his pillow and stared warily at the door.

Fen knocked a few times on the door of the captain's quarters without response and pushed the door open.

"Who is Sharon?"

Fen heard Liszt muttering that name in his confusion.

Seeing who it was, Liszt breathed a sigh of relief. His head throbbed painfully—a memory gap from drinking too much the night before.

"Who is Sharon?"

Fen raised another question, a somewhat sensitive one that seemed to resemble a woman's name. In his opinion, the current crew of Black Sail ought to sever all ties with the outside world, especially since they were harboring a rare artifact; safeguards were necessary.

When Swan first sought refuge with Fen, Fen considered leaving the ship to start anew. But where could he go? Besides, even surrendering the gemstone and Stele wouldn't absolve him of his sins; there were some transgressions that nothing in the world could wash away.

How much could one or two strong individuals achieve, no matter how tough they were? Like nailing jelly to a wall.

In the end, one must appreciate the importance of power. After much thought, he decided to stay with Black Sail. The seas were always the safest place, and there were others to share the blame and resist the pursuit of the Thief Guild. Moreover, those illiterates were unlikely to understand the value of the Stele. Even if they did, the Stele was far more valuable than they imagined—it was worth more than a Duke, and he wouldn't hesitate to refuse such an exchange.

Now was the time to discuss how to utilize the Stele and dominate the region.

"What's it to you, why so nosy?"

Liszt rolled out of bed without any intention of washing his face, a habit long abandoned. He gargled his mouth with saltwater from a bottle by the bed and spat it casually on the floor. In less than ten seconds, he was all set, pushing aside Fen, who was blocking the doorway to his cabin, and entered the office area.

The Captain's cabin was split into two sections: a bedroom and an office area. Of course, Liszt didn't really have any official duties to perform; he'd never even written a log. The job of recording their position, speed, and navigation decisions during voyages was handled by the extraordinarily talented Fen. All Liszt had to do was name the destination, a hands-off Captain.

Fen looked at the mess in the Captain's office. Liszt was a complete slob who, nevertheless, loved collecting all sorts of oddities—curios, knives, musical instruments snatched from various nobles—piled up as if in a junkyard. Among these treasures, one could find some valuable items, potentially selling for dozens of Golden Dragons.

"I don't understand why you're so obsessed with picking up trash."

Fen picked a ring from the pile of disarrayed items. Its design was grotesquely extravagant, fashioned into a fierce tail biting snake with the cheapest kind of Fluorescent Stone set into its eyes. Who in this day and age would still fall for such trickery? Passed off as expensive Magic Props, and with a bit of sleight of hand, they could scam a gullible fool for a high price. At best, this ring might sell for ten copper coins.

"It doesn't cost anything, so why not pick it up if it's free."

Liszt pulled a Flintlock Gun from a drawer in his desk and slung it over his waist, adopting the airs of a Captain.

The accuracy of these guns was laughably poor since they lacked the technology to carve rifling into the barrels. Marksmanship had nothing to do with it; hits relied entirely on metaphysics.

With each shot requiring a reload, such a weapon was more of a novelty on the talent-rich Western Continent, fired once to show respect. If someone was foolish enough to reload during a live duel, they'd be taken down instantly.

Against the likes of Wolman and Ox, the gun wouldn't even penetrate their armor.

Back at Blue Bay Port, when Morison had been cornered by seamarine number five or six wielding smoothbore guns, Liszt thought he was a dead man. But with a crack of his whip producing several arced phantoms, Morison disarmed them all. And with a series of Crossbow Arrows from his left arm, he executed headshots on everyone. A whole arsenal at his disposal made him the optimal answer for any situation.

The Iron Blood Warrior, also known as Little Killer, exemplified hitting beneath one's weight class.

That's not to say the guns were completely useless. If they faced a well-trained Firearms Team, firing in volleys could bring about a qualitative change, one that ragtag militias couldn't withstand.

A gun was worth a fair bit of money and was considered contraband. Liszt carried it mainly for showoff; after all, he wasn't hurting for cash.

"What do you want with me so early?"

Liszt sat swinging in his chair, quite unconcerned that he might tip over due to the momentum.

"Sign this."

Fen handed over a list of crew assignments to Liszt. Even on a pirate ship, there needed to be records and archives to manage finances properly. Many pirates never made it because, despite their bravery, they disbanded too soon due to uneven distribution of spoils and a mess of finances, causing severe internal strife.

Liszt knew that recruiting sailors meant dipping into the funds, and although the names were yet to be written, Fen wasn't the type to commit fraud or embezzle the public money.

With the new rules in place, Liszt feared nothing; a dozen or so guys would stick around till death.

Liszt quickly picked up a pen that seemed to be made from "scab hair" and signed his name with ink that had already begun to clump.

"You know, without well-endowed beauties, it doesn't feel like a different world. Can we recruit a few aboard?"

"Sorry." Fen tucked away the list, knowing precisely what was on Liszt's mind. "Women can't be aboard the ship. As for the qualities you require, like collective strength, labor endurance, environmental tolerance, beauty, amble bosom, along with extensive combat experience, and fearlessness towards sailor harassment, all while paying attention to hygiene and dress sense—a well-rounded and dignified hexagonal lady like that seems to be quite rare."

"She would indeed be more of a hero unit."

Liszt gave up on the fantasy. If such a woman existed, she'd straight up be serving as an Attendant to some Knight Master, riding the expressway to promotion.