Chapter 668 - 555: Mara Broken Wave

Chapter 668: Chapter 555: Mara Broken Wave

At the high point of the island, within a sturdy and spacious longhouse.

Unlike the boisterous, open-air revelry below, the longhouse’s interior, though just as brightly lit, was shrouded in a much heavier, almost oppressive atmosphere.

It was more like a mix between a council hall and a private residence. Heavy wooden beams overhead were draped with dried fishing nets, old ship figureheads, and various trophies from different cultures that looked quite ancient.

Besides the ubiquitous "Serrated Anchor" emblems on the walls, there were also several sea charts drawn on tanned leather, marked with complex ocean currents and hidden reefs.

The air was filled with the scent of wood, tobacco, leather, and a faint hint of sea salt.

The main seat in the center of the longhouse was roughly hewn from a single block of black ironwood, draped with the complete hide of a deep-sea beast, its fur dull and dark.

At this moment, a woman was reclining on this "seat."

She was the matriarch of the "Serrated Anchor," Mara Broken Wave.

Mara looked to be in her mid-thirties. The years and the sea wind had carved clear marks upon her face. Her skin was a healthy, deep tan from constant exposure to the sun, and a few distinct fine lines fanned out from the corners of her eyes, yet this did nothing to diminish the sharpness of her features or a certain rugged appeal.

Her features were well-defined, with a high-bridged nose and thin lips, which were currently pressed into a tight line, forming a displeased curve.

Her long, dark brown hair was simply woven into a thick, sturdy braid slung over one shoulder, the ends still showing traces of being matted with salt crystals.

She wore a practical, dark leather tunic and trousers, covered by a solidly made suit of studded Leather Armor. At her waist hung a Curved Saber with obvious signs of use and a Mooring Knife.

Her posture seemed relaxed, but her slightly forward-leaning shoulders and the hand resting on the hilt of her blade betrayed the alertness of a leopard, ready to unleash its Power at any moment.

Her gray-green eyes were coldly watching the uninvited guests.

There were three visitors in total, standing in the center of the longhouse, completely out of place in the rustic surroundings.

They all wore matching robes of a rather somber, dark gray color, the edges embroidered with silver thread in complex, writhing Runes.

The leader was a middle-aged man with a gaunt face, prominent cheekbones, and meticulously combed, iron-gray short hair. He wore a pair of glasses with crystal lenses perched on the bridge of his nose.

Behind the lenses, his eyes were a pale blue, his gaze sharp and devoid of warmth.

Behind him on either side stood two similarly dressed attendants. Their faces were solemn, and while their hands appeared empty, a faint Magic Radiance flowed indistinctly around their bodies.

"Lady Mara..."

The lead Mage spoke, his voice flat and utterly without warmth.

"Congratulations on your wedding. May you and your partner... share in the sea’s bounty and endure the trials of its storms."

His well-wishes sounded more like a stiff statement than a blessing.

Mara snorted in response, her gray-green eyes still fixed on him.

"Master Mage from the High Tower, you didn’t come all this way just to drink my cheap wine and offer a few pretty words, did you?"

"This place isn’t used to hosting... discerning guests like you."

Her tone was direct, even carrying a hint of undisguised suspicion.

The Mage paid her attitude no mind. His gaze behind the lenses swept over the sea charts and trophies in the longhouse before finally returning to Mara’s face.

"Your directness is admirable. In that case, I will be blunt. The High Tower needs you—or rather, it needs the ’Serrated Anchor’ fleet and your knowledge of these waters to carry out a Deep Sea exploration mission."

"The target area is on the northeastern edge of the Broken Star Sea, near the outer region of the ’Eternal Silence Vortex.’"

Mara’s brows furrowed immediately.

"The outskirts of the Eternal Silence Vortex? Are you crazy, or do you just think my people’s lives are worthless? That place is full of nothing but deadly undercurrents, crazed Sea Beasts, and all sorts of strange, inexplicable things! We’re not going."

"The reward will be extremely generous, enough to ensure the ’Serrated Anchor’ won’t have to worry about supplies for years to come."

The Mage’s voice remained steady.

"No matter how generous the reward, you have to be alive to spend it."

Mara refused flatly, moving her hand from her sword hilt to cross her arms over her chest.

"I said no. We’re not going. There’s nothing to discuss."

The Mage was silent for a moment, a faint glimmer seeming to flash in his pale blue eyes.

He gently adjusted his glasses. His tone was still flat, but his words made the temperature in the longhouse plummet.

"Since you are unwilling to go in person, then... perhaps we can find another way to cooperate."

"We have heard that the ’Serrated Anchor’ possesses an ancient Sacred Artifact closely related to the Queen of Fury Waves—the ’Rudder of the Furious Sea.’"

"A miraculous compass that can guide believers home through any Storm or when lost at sea. Why not lend this item to the High Tower for a time? We can organize the expedition ourselves."

Mara’s gaze instantly turned extremely dangerous, and her body tensed slightly.

"The Rudder of the Furious Sea?"

She repeated the words slowly, each one seeming to be forced through her teeth.

"You people really overreach. Yes, it was a gift from Queen Anboli for my ancestor’s courage, a testament to the vow that allows the ’Serrated Anchor’ to stand firm in the raging tides."

"But it is not a tool! And it is certainly not a piece of merchandise to be traded!"

Upon hearing this, the lead Mage sighed softly, as if lamenting Mara’s stubbornness.

"Lady Mara."

His voice finally took on a cold, hard edge.

"A request from the High Tower is rarely refused twice. That Sacred Artifact... is crucial to our research. Please, reconsider."

"Reconsider?"

Mara shot up from her seat, her hand clamping down on the hilt of her Curved Saber, her gray-green eyes burning with enraged Flame.

"My answer is clear. I’m not lending it! And we’re not going!"

"Now, take your men and get out of here. The Serrated Anchor does not welcome uninvited pests!"

As she moved, the soft sound of several weapons being drawn echoed from the shadows of the longhouse.

Several burly, core members of the "Serrated Anchor," who had been standing guard silently, emerged, their unfriendly gazes fixed on the three Mages.

The Mage’s gaze swept over the blades pointed at him, then returned to Mara’s resolute face. He then slowly took off his glasses and began meticulously wiping them with a piece of flannel cloth.

There was no warning, no Spell Chanting.

A cold, heavy, and suffocating magical pressure, like an invisible ocean tide, erupted from him, instantly sweeping through the entire longhouse.

The very air seemed to freeze, and the lamplight flickered violently.

Conflict was imminent.

......

......

「In the bustling market.」

Hearing Ellis’s startled whisper, Roland nodded slightly.

Compared to Ellis’s relatively vague Perception, his own grasp of the Energy fluctuations was much clearer.

There were three Casters who had suddenly appeared in the longhouse above.

While two of the auras were pure and orderly, their strength still within a measurable range, the Magic Power fluctuations emanating from the leader...

...were so dense and solidified that they were alarming.

Although he couldn’t accurately gauge their specific level of Power, this immense and cold magical pressure alone far surpassed that of most opponents he had previously encountered.

By a rough estimate, his threat level was probably just a notch below that of Tula, deep in the Eternal Song Forest, before she had evolved into a Pseudo-God.

"Three Casters. The one in the lead is very strong."

Roland spoke concisely to his two companions in a low voice.

"Their reason for suddenly visiting this place is unclear, but it’s not related to our purpose here."

"To avoid getting drawn into unnecessary conflict, let’s leave here first. We can come back to gather information after the situation clears up or they leave."

As for Bronson...

Roland shook his head slightly.

’That gentle scholar, devoted to his research, couldn’t possibly be involved with such powerful Casters, let alone provoke them into coming after him.’

’Therefore, the Mages’ purpose most likely has nothing to do with Bronson.’

Hearing this, Holland and Ellis exchanged a glance, both seeing agreement in the other’s eyes.

In these unfamiliar waters, rashly intervening in a confrontation between powerful individuals was by no means a wise move.

With their decision made, the three of them turned without a word, preparing to retreat back along the path they came to a more concealed reef area below. They would wait for Black Wind to pick them up and temporarily get away from this place of trouble.

However, just as they had taken a few steps...

"BOOM!"

A muffled but soul-shaking boom, accompanied by the grating sound of splintering wood and stone, erupted from the high point of the island.

The clamor of the crowd stopped abruptly, replaced in an instant by a stunned silence, which was then shattered by even greater Chaos and screams.

Roland whipped his head around, his gaze piercing through the gaps between the chaotic, fleeing figures toward the source of the sound.

He saw an entire wall of the sturdy longhouse above explode outward, as if it had been smashed from within by a colossal, invisible hammer.

Splintered wooden beams and chunks of stone flew everywhere, mixed with dust and smoke.

Immediately after, a figure shot backward out of the breach like a cannonball, tracing an arc through the air before crashing heavily onto a relatively open patch of hard ground not far below, kicking up a cloud of dust.

It was a burly Warrior, dressed in clothing bearing the "Serrated Anchor" emblem.

His armor was dented, and he was already unconscious.

As the dust settled slightly, the scene at the breach in the longhouse became clear.

A man dressed like a Mage was hovering a few feet off the ground. His dark gray robes billowed without any wind, and a violently fluctuating Magic Radiance, visible to the naked eye, swirled around him, forming a translucent protective Force Field.

In front of his outstretched palm, a swirling, compressing ball of dark red Energy was coalescing, emitting a searing heat and an aura of Destruction that made one’s skin tingle.

Opposite him, a woman stood steadily at the edge of the wrecked longhouse.

The wooden floor beneath her feet was unnaturally warped and damp, as if it had been scoured by a great wave. Her gray-green eyes burned with a cold fury.

Astonishingly, she seemed to be shrouded in a flowing, translucent curtain of water, within which tiny whirlpools could be faintly seen forming and dissipating.

The thick water vapor in the air was spontaneously gathering around her. Even the wine spilled from a nearby barrel was slithering like a living creature, pooling at her feet.

"Extreme Water Element Affinity... but she’s not a Caster..."

After observing for a moment, Ellis gasped and exclaimed in a low voice.

"It’s a blessing of some kind of Ocean Divine Power! That woman must be the leader of the ’Serrated Anchor’!"

"That’s right..."

Holland raised his Shield to push back the encroaching crowd and let out a whistle.

"That’s Mara, the matriarch of the Serrated Anchor!"