Chapter 109: The Beast, Osara

Arthur cut through another wave of twisted pirates, his blade gleaming with mana, when the air around him shifted. A pulse—like a heartbeat made of pressure—rippled outward and stirred the sea spray.

He looked up, high in the sky, Selina hovered like a dark star. Shadows coiled around her body, expanding in waves. Her domain had been released, swallowing the sky in a storm of shadow and magic.

Arthur let out a low breath. "Well… I guess that was unavoidable."

He slid his sword back into its sheath and raised his empty hand. Mana gathered around his palm, golden and sharp. "By the power of light," he intoned.

In a flash, a solid sword appeared in his hand its blade glowing with golden light and crackling with divine energy, clearly distinct from his own weapon. He closed his fingers around it and locked eyes with the nearest corrupted pirate.

Then he moved. In one swift charge, Arthur slashed through the first monster and the force behind that single blow was so immense, it tore through the five others standing behind it, as if they were nothing but shadows in its wake. Even the foremast behind them split cleanly down the middle. For a breath, there was silence. Then the top half of the mast groaned, cracked, and toppled into the sea with a crash.

The sword in his hand shattered into golden fragments, dissolving like sparks in the wind. But another one appeared instantly, forged from the same light. Power surged through him. His mana flared, and his movements grew even faster—blurring with each step.

He leapt to the next enemy without missing a beat. The hunt had truly begun.

…

On the Red Rose ship, a tall man with long silver hair stood at the bow, eyes fixed on the sky where a clash of power twisted the clouds. The wind tugged at his hair, occasionally revealing the sharp-tipped ears.

"Yevlan, the captain's activated her domain," a woman said from behind him.

"I can see that," he replied, voice calm, but his gaze intense.

Yevlan was second-in-command, and whenever their captain entered serious combat, command of the ship fell to him.

The woman stepped up beside him, arms folded. "Looks like the Avalon captain's joined in. He's using a domain too," she added with a smirk. "What kind of domain shatters your own weapon?"

Yevlan didn't answer immediately. He was now watching Arthur. "Don't underestimate him. Look at the way he fights. Every time he strikes, his sword breaks… and another one forms in its place. Stronger."

"So his domain feeds him power, little by little?" She scoffed. "That sounds ridiculous."

Yevlan gave a faint shrug. "I'm not a domain specialist, but I know that there are rules. Domains are made with intent, with sacrifice and focus. Arthur's not reckless. There's a reason for that mechanic."

"How many swords can he make, though? It's not infinite, is it?"

"I don't know." Yevlan's tone dropped lower. "But I know this—David Ortner, the self-proclaimed strongest pirate before our captain cut him down, once fought Arthur. Back then, David was A3 and Arthur was only A1. Arthur lost, of course… but left David with a deep scar on his right shoulder."

The woman raised an eyebrow. "That guy?"

"Yeah. I heard David once drunkenly talk about it in a tavern. Said two things. First, he called Arthur the 'One Hundred Sword Pirate.' And second..." Yevlan paused. "He said when the last sword comes, no one can dodge it."

"One hundred…" she whispered, eyes lighting up as she looked toward Arthur. "He has a hundred of those things?"

"Miriam," Yevlan said, drawing her attention back. "Gather the crew. We're going in to help."

She gave a sharp nod and rushed off toward the main deck.

Yevlan looked back at the battlefield, eyes narrowing as he studied Arthur. "Let's see just how much intel I can get from you, Arthur Avalon."

…

High above, Selina hovered in the sky, her long blond hair whipping in the wind. She looked down at Arthur for a moment, a sly smile playing on her lips.

"So that's your domain," she murmured, her voice filled with amusement and something close to admiration.

Then she turned her attention back to her own battle. "Let's cut this thing down."

A massive hand of shadow formed behind her, mirroring her every movement. In its grasp appeared an enormous, shadowy replica of her scythe, its blade gleaming with dark energy.

Before her, three tentacles loomed—thick, monstrous limbs the size of city towers. She targeted the largest one, the one that had carried the island on its back. Though it had shrunk to nearly half its former size, it was still so massive that Selina seemed like a speck beside it.

Dark energy surged around her weapon, the air trembling from the pressure. As she closed in, she slashed the air with her scythe. The shadowy weapon mimicked her motion, cleaving forward with terrifying force.

The attack struck the tentacle and carved through it, tearing open a deep wound that stretched across nearly a third of its diameter. From the gash, a thick green ooze gushed like blood… and then came the real horror.

Out from the wound poured a swarm of insect-like creatures—some as large as humans, others even bigger. They screeched as they surged through the air, racing toward her in a chaotic tide of wings and claws.

Selina's smile vanished. She swung into action, cleaving through the creatures in quick, fluid strikes. Dozens fell with each slash, but for every one she cut down, ten more emerged.

Annoyed, she snarled and raised her scythe high above her head. With a surge of power, she began spinning it rapidly, the blade becoming a blur. Then she whipped it around her in a sweeping circle, and the massive shadow-scythe followed, slicing through the swarm in a wide arc.

A shower of severed insect limbs and chitinous shells rained down across the sky. But the wound still pulsed, and the swarm kept coming endlessly.

Selina narrowed her eyes, fury and excitement blending in her expression. "You want to waste my time? Fine. I'll cut you down until there's nothing left inside you."

With a wild grin, she surged forward again, ready to turn the sky into a battlefield of shadow and blood. 

…

Arthur could feel Selina's mana surging high above—a turbulent force crackling through the sky—but he forced his focus back to his own battle. One ghost ship was already sinking, its hull groaning as it slipped beneath the waves. He hovered midair, suspended by threads of golden energy, ready to descend on the next.

He looked down at the weapon in his grip—sleek, glowing faintly blue, humming with raw force. It was his tenth sword. Without hesitation, he turned toward the second ship, drew his arm back, and hurled the blade.

It spun like a streak of light through the air, crashing through the ghost ship's main deck. Wood and spectral energy exploded in every direction. Even before the wreckage had settled, another sword materialized in his hand with a flash of energy.

He jumped on the next ship and landed hard, knees bent, sword already swinging. He moved fast. With every heavy slash, his sword shattered—splinters of light scattering—and instantly, another took its place, summoned into his palm without pause.

"Eighteen," he muttered, cutting down a ghostly sailor with one blow. "Nineteen…"

Another shatter. Another sword. "Twenty."

He kicked off the deck and landed at the bow of the ship. Planting his feet, he raised his sword and slashed in a wide arc. A wave of force erupted from the blade, racing down the length of the ship. The blast sheared through the masts like they were paper, slicing clean through the captain's cabin at the stern. Debris burst into the air, raining down over the dark water.

A fresh sword formed in his hand, but this time, Arthur launched himself upward into the air. He let go—released the weapon mid-air—and it froze in place, hovering before him. Then four more swords appeared, encircling the first.

At his silent command, they all shot downward like spears of divine judgment, piercing the ghost ship from multiple angles. There was a beat of silence—then the hull cracked open in a violent eruption. The ship groaned, twisted, and began to sink, stern first, into the sea.

Another sword shimmered into existence in Arthur's hand, as if summoned by the destruction itself.

"Twenty-two," he said quietly.

He landed with a thud on the deck of the third ship—ready to keep going.

…

In the next fifteen minutes, Arthur had torn through ship after ship. Now, he stood on the deck of the tenth and final ghost vessel. His sword had grown in size, glowing with a blinding, almost holy light. The monstrous crew aboard the last ship had surrounded him, their twisted forms circling like vultures, weapons drawn and ready to strike.

Without a word, Arthur planted his sword into the floor of the ship. Then, he launched himself into the air.

The sword pulsed once—twice—then erupted in a blinding explosion of light. The force shattered the ship from within, splinters of dark wood and spectral flame bursting outward as the vessel was annihilated in an instant.

As the next sword formed in his hand, Arthur looked skyward.

Selina hovered high above, cloaked in swirling mana. Behind her, two colossal shadowy hands loomed—each gripping a spectral scythe. One had intercepted a monstrous tentacle mid-lunge, locking it in a brutal stalemate. The other swept in a deadly arc, slicing clean through a second tentacle that had tried to rip her from the sky. 

From where Arthur stood, it looked like a battle between gods.

A third tentacle slithered through the air behind her, massive and silent—aiming to strike her blind spot.

Arthur raised his sword, and it began to shift in his grip, reshaping into a gleaming spear. It spun, gathering energy with a high-pitched hum.

The more swords he used, the stronger he became—not just in power, but in the variety of abilities awakening within him. Precision. Adaptability. Evolution.

With perfect focus, he launched the spinning spear through the air. It sliced upward like a bolt of divine wrath, piercing the third tentacle before it could reach her.

The tentacle wasn't as large as the first two—but it was still monstrous, thick and wide enough to overshadow city towers. Yet the spear cut through it cleanly, a gaping hole tearing open on the far side where the weapon exited, trailing a storm of black ichor and vanishing into the clouds.

Another sword materialized in Arthur's hand as he kicked off the air, launching himself toward the third tentacle. As he closed the distance, the monstrous limb began to shift. Hundreds of smaller, branch-like tendrils burst from its flesh, writhing toward him like a swarm of serpents.

Arthur slashed through them as fast as they came, his blade carving arcs of light through the dark mass—but they didn't stop. For every one he cut down, two more took its place. Meanwhile, the gaping wound he'd created with his spear was already beginning to heal, flesh knitting itself back together with unnatural speed.

Suddenly, in the middle of the tentacle, a hole opened—and a torrent of water erupted from it, pressurized like a cannon blast.

Arthur raised his sword just in time, and in a flash, it reshaped into a wide, radiant shield. The water didn't harm him, but its force slammed into him, driving him backward through the air. He skidded to a halt midair near Selina, who was now floating in front of two of the massive tentacles, her shadowy scythe-wielding hands flanking her like silent sentinels.

"It's healing is getting annoying," she growled, irritation sharp in her voice. "How many swords have you drawn from your domain?"

Arthur sighed. "You already analyzed my domain?"

"It wasn't hard."

"It's number seventy-eight," he replied, his tone calm despite the chaos.

Selina narrowed her eyes at the writhing beast. "Can you help me cut that big one? I can't slice it clean in a single move, and it just keeps regenerating."

Arthur smiled faintly, and his sword began to shift once again. It grew longer, broader—light coalescing around it as it transformed into a massive greatsword, its edge glowing like molten steel.

"Let's cut it together," he said.