Chapter 144: There will be casualties

A soft, gravelly growl escaped Craig’s throat as he slowly blinked his eyes open, startled awake by a sharp, rhythmic rapping against the heavy wooden door of his cabin.

For a brief, disoriented moment, he realized he had been unconsciously cuddling a plush woolen pillow against his chest while dozing off in his chair.

Blinking away the lingering fog of sleep, Craig turned his head and glanced through the glass of the cabin’s thick porthole.

He was instantly stunned by the pitch-black void pressing against the glass.

The absolute, starless darkness confirmed without a shadow of a doubt that many hours had slipped away while he was lost in deep meditation and rest.

Out on the open waters, nightfall brought with it a suffocating veil of silence and countless hidden dangers lurking beneath the surface.

Knock, knock.

The rapping echoed against the door once more, prompting Craig to tilt his head, shaking off the last remnants of fatigue.

"Who is it?" Craig called out, his voice smooth and steady.

"It is I, My Lord," Ser Hughway’s deep, reliable voice filtered through the wood. "I have brought your evening meal."

At the mere mention of dinner, Craig’s stomach let out a sudden, audible rumble, serving as an immediate reminder that his body required sustenance after nearly half a day of fasting.

"Come in, Hughway," Craig instructed.

The lock clicked softly, and the heavy door swung open a moment later.

Ser Hughway stepped into the cabin with practiced military grace, carrying a large silver serving tray.

Resting upon the polished metal was a covered stainless-steel plate releasing a wisp of savory steam, an unopened bottle of aged red wine, and a small stack of crisp, buttered biscuits.

Moving with quiet efficiency, the veteran knight crossed the floor and placed the tray down upon the wooden stool positioned beside Craig’s bed.

As Craig rubbed the sleep from his eyes and pushed himself up from the armchair, he looked up at his Lord Commander.

"Tell me... how long have I actually been asleep?"

Ser Hughway stood at attention, folding his hands behind his back. "You have been asleep for roughly ten hours, My Lord. It is currently past nine o’clock at night."

Hughway gestured slightly toward the dark porthole. "According to the ship’s log and our current coordinates, we are rapidly approaching the absolute endpoint of the Northern Ire Sea.

Making the final transition out of the protected channel and into the lawless, open waters of the Creptun Ocean is now only a matter of time."

"The Creptun Ocean, huh?" Craig mumbled, a faint, calculating edge returning to his voice.

He rose fully from the chair, stretching his arms high above his head until his joints popped softly.

He let out a long, measured yawn, walking over to the porthole to stare out into the impenetrable darkness of the sea, letting the gentle, vibrating hum of the ship’s engines wash over him.

Craig sighed quietly, then turned his head back to lock eyes with Ser Hughway. "Are you fully prepared for what comes next?"

"I am, My Lord," Hughway nodded firmly, his expression turning grave. "Ser Damian and young Annie are likewise awake and prepared in the adjoining cabin. Because we are fully aware that an ambush is coming, we have already laid out defensive countermeasures to secure our quarters and protect ourselves during the chaos."

Hughway’s brow furrowed slightly. "Naturally, Annie remains entirely unfit for active combat. When the pirates strike, the physical burden of defending our group will fall squarely upon Damian and myself."

Hearing those words, Craig let out a sharp, dismissive shake of his head. He offered a cold, confident smirk.

"No, Hughway. You are mistaken. I will be fighting as well."

Ser Hughway’s eyes widened in instinctive protest.

He stepped forward, attempting to interrupt his master. "My Lord, surely you don’t need to—"

Craig raised a single gloved hand, cutting off the knight instantly.

Hughway clamped his mouth shut, freezing at the unspoken command, while Craig continued his explanation with absolute conviction.

"Listen to me, Hughway," Craig said, his voice dropping into an instructional register. "You must remember the mechanics of my ascension class. The Initial-stage of the Sword Runner class is formally titled Gaining Insight.

How on earth am I supposed to achieve a true breakthrough, sharpen my mana core, and gain insight into who I truly am if I cower behind my guards and refuse to push myself to my absolute limits?"

Craig crossed his arms, his emerald eyes flashing with ambition. "If I am to ascend rapidly toward the coveted Sword Sage class, I cannot bypass the crucible. I must conquer the three grueling plateaus: the Initial-stage of Gaining Insight, the Middle-stage titled Gaining Enlightenment, and finally, the Peak-stage known as the Creation of the True Sword Art."

He pointed a finger toward the adjoining room.

"Look at Damian—he is already hovering on the razor-thin verge of reaching the Peak-stage of his own tier, actively preparing his mindset for his upcoming ascension ritual. If my subordinates are advancing through blood and sweat, I cannot afford to remain a spectator."

Craig inhaled a deep, steadying breath, drawing the chill night air into his lungs.

Suddenly, his eyes flickered, locking onto the dark reflection of the window pane.

A dark, predatory light danced in his gaze.

"Besides," Craig murmured softly, his tone dripping with cold certainty, "if the Skull Lords’ pirate admirals took the bait and received Annie’s broadcasted intelligence regarding ten thousand barrels of refined alchemical oil supposedly heading toward Oman City... they won’t hesitate.

They are greedy, bloodthirsty hounds. They will intercept us the exact millisecond this ship breaches the boundary of the Creptun Ocean."

As he spoke, Craig’s right hand drifted downward, his fingers wrapping around the familiar, wrapped handle of the sheathed Blood Reaper resting against his chair.

He gave the weapon a reassuring pat, feeling the lethal resonance of the Varatium-forged steel humming in response.

Craig turned his head, fixing a hard, uncompromising stare on his Lord Commander.

"Go back out into the corridor, Hughway," Craig ordered, his voice carrying the absolute weight of a sovereign lord preparing for war.

"Double-check our perimeter, secure the deck access points, and tell Damian to ready his blade. Prepare yourselves... because a devastating battle is about to begin."

"There will be heavy casualties...!!"