Master of the Silent Night Sea

"These kuo-toa are idiots. They'll follow anyone who feeds them." From aboard the battered sailing ship came a harsh, grating voice, like the death wheeze of a dying insect. Yet the speaker's tone was thoroughly nonchalant, as if discussing nothing more than a trivial trifle. Putting the kuo-toa out of mind, Anbaixiu carefully examined the ruined vessel. It appeared to be a common three-masted ship, its figurehead a rusted iron carving of a swordfish. The hull was riddled with gaping breaches and encrusted in barnacles and moss. By all rights, it belonged buried deep in the seabed, not bobbing by the shore. A half-rotted fishman slouched on the bow, a harpoon resting across his shoulder. He was evidently the one who had spoken. "A sahuagin... zombie?" Compared to the foolish look of the kuo-toa, this creature was far more vicious. Kuo-toa heads resembled catfish, whereas sahuagin bore the heads of sharks. Their builds were also considerably broader and more robust, radiating brutal strength. Without question, the fishman before him was undead. Its chest had rotted away to reveal ribs and filth-like viscera, half its face was stripped down to white bone, and razor-sharp teeth jutted bare. A textbook zombie—or rather, to use a more specialized term, a drowned. Zombies soaked in water year-round developed unique water-resistant properties. While its body looked dilapidated, it could actually withstand the corrosive effects of seawater. An ordinary skeleton or zombie submerged in the ocean would fall apart within months, but a drowned could move through the depths with total freedom. A mere drowned would not have surprised Anbaixiu overmuch. What genuinely caught him off guard was the immense strength radiating from this fishman. It was a legend, without question. *No way... Could this be Senior Mute?* "Might I ask who your excellency is?" Anbaixiu greeted the sahuagin with cautious politeness. "Oh, asking about me, are ya..." The fishman rose from the bow, standing at least two meters tall. In a booming voice, the towering undead fishman declared, "Phil the Sharp Spear, Captain of the Second Fleet of the Silent Night Pirates, sends his greetings, Friend of the Commander!" "Commander?" As Anbaixiu puzzled over this, he suddenly sensed a new message arrive via the Necrotic Codex. Opening it, he found it was not from Rose of Decay, but a direct message from Mute: [I have dispatched a subordinate. By my reckoning, he should be arriving right about now. He's a brainless fishman named Phil.] Anbaixiu looked up at the fishman standing on the bow again, feeling Senior Mute's stature elevate considerably in his mind. To have a legendary undead serving as her subordinate... Just how vast was this pirate commander's power? Closing the Necrotic Codex, Anbaixiu addressed Phil the Sharp Spear. "So you are Senior's envoy. Mister Phil, how did you recognize me?" Anbaixiu looked nothing like a lich at the moment. How on earth had this fishman figured it out? Phil bellowed at the top of his lungs, "Legendary undead are few and far between. Ain't no way I'd be unlucky enough to pick the wrong one, right?" Speechless, Anbaixiu replied, "Do you think I look anything like an undead?" "Undead care about looks?" Phil answered in surprise. "Undead in our sea come in every shape and size." Anbaixiu: "..." He honestly could not refute that logic. "Alright, honored guest, come aboard! If you want these kuo-toa, I'll haul 'em up for you." Phil rapped his harpoon against the bow. Over a dozen translucent specters flew out from the battered ship and sank into the kuo-toa. The dimwitted creatures instantly lost their wits and began marching toward the ghost ship of their own accord. Anbaixiu felt a pang of envy. *What pomp and circumstance! It really is true: compare yourself to others and you'll die of frustration; compare undead to undead and you'll want to bury yourself.* Anbaixiu cast Fly on himself and drifted down onto the ghost ship's foredeck. The undead named Phil the Sharp Spear proved exceedingly hospitable. Producing a treasured bottle of "fine vintage," he offered it to Anbaixiu. "Brewed from merrow marrow and the blood of a deep-sea whale! I've kept it cellared for two hundred years!" "Undead... drink alcohol?" Anbaixiu asked, somewhat baffled. "This is different! Specially brewed for the undead. Have a cup and you'll see." Phil fetched two damp oak tankards and poured the ink-black "fine vintage" inside. "Come, come! To my first time meeting the Commander's friend—Phil toasts to you!" Phil clinked his cup against Anbaixiu's and downed it in a single greedy gulp. By rights, the liquid should have leaked straight out of his rotting rib cage. Instead, the ink-black liquor adhered to his decayed flesh as if alive, seeping little by little into the bones and rotten meat. Anbaixiu felt a twinge of awkwardness. The drink might indeed benefit an undead, but he was currently in a mechanical body—could he even absorb it? Yet, unable to refuse such hospitality, Anbaixiu flipped open his faceplate and poured the liquid inside. The moment the inky wine entered his chassis, Anbaixiu felt a potent surge of dark aura radiate from it, melding with the dark mana coursing through his core. The process left him feeling weightless, bringing an unexpected sensation of mild drunkenness to his very soul. A moment later, the tipsiness faded, and Anbaixiu sensed that his mana had thickened slightly. "What remarkable liquor! It genuinely feels like getting drunk!" Replenishing dark mana was nothing extraordinary—plenty of potions could achieve that. But for a drink to replenish dark mana while simultaneously intoxicating a soul truly broadened Anbaixiu's horizons. The undead were supposed to be stripped of most physical sensations; getting drunk was a memory buried decades in Anbaixiu's past. "Naturally! Merrows are mutated variants corrupted by abyssal power. The power of the Abyss contained in their marrow is the purest you can find. Blend it in proper proportions with the blood of a deep-sea whale, add a dash of Silent Night seaweed... and there you have my proprietary recipe. I slaughtered three merrow tribes just to brew this single bottle, and I've aged it for over two hundred years." "Abyssal power... that stuff is toxic," Anbaixiu noted. Phil waved it off casually. "It's precisely because it's toxic that it can get an undead drunk! What else could ever affect our souls? Come on, drink up! Once uncorked, every drop must be finished, or it'd be a waste!" Seeing Phil's carefree demeanor, Anbaixiu felt a spark of pride stir within him. Abyssal power was indeed poisonous, but what did this meager amount matter to a legendary undead? Re-experiencing drunkenness was a rare pleasure for any undead. Anbaixiu clinked cups with Phil again and again, and the two swiftly transitioned from strangers to drinking buddies. According to Phil, under normal sailing conditions, it would have taken another day and a half to arrive. But upon learning that Anbaixiu had arrived early, their commander ordered him to make all speed. "I abandoned the fleet and rushed over at full throttle aboard my *Swordfish*. This vessel is the swiftest ship in the Silent Night Sea—even the Commander's flagship can't match her!" This undead was cheerful almost to a fault. Once tipsy, Phil began boasting to Anbaixiu about his exploits across the high seas. Plundering a kingdom's merchant convoy one day, slaughtering a fishman tribe the next—he was a veritable maritime despot. In the past, Anbaixiu had known he was somewhat of a sham legend, but because he had only compared himself against legends of other races, the gap had never felt particularly visceral. Now, meeting this subordinate of Senior Mute, Anbaixiu realized the disparity between legends could be so vast. Back in the City of Alchemy, Anbaixiu had never dared slaughter cities or eradicate entire races, yet Phil the Sharp Spear spoke of such deeds as casually as having a meal. Anbaixiu also sensed that the ghost ship beneath their feet was no ordinary vessel. Immense power hummed within it, much like his own wizard tower, multiplying its master's combat prowess tenfold or a hundredfold. Moreover, this ghost ship was mobile, making it far superior to Anbaixiu's stationary wizard tower. With such formidable forces at her disposal, Senior Mute had to be outrageously wealthy. He wondered if he might strike up some business with her along the way. Taking advantage of the mood, Anbaixiu inquired about Senior Mute. "You're asking about the Commander? *Hic...*" Phil belched, spitting out two finger bones that looked like they had belonged to some humanoid. He then used the tip of his harpoon to pick his teeth before looking at Anbaixiu. "The Commander is the Commander of our Silent Night Pirates! Aren't you her friend? You don't know?" "We've only ever corresponded by letter," Anbaixiu explained. "We never really knew each other's true identities." "Ah, is that so? Then let me tell ya! Our Commander Aige is the ruler of this ocean! Wherever the black sails of the Silent Night Pirates go, all must obediently surrender every treasure they own, along with their flesh, blood, and souls!" Phil spoke with immense pride. It was obvious he held his commander in the highest esteem. "And then?" Anbaixiu pressed. Phil looked puzzled. "And then? What 'and then'? That's it! Our Silent Night Pirates reign supreme across the seas. What more could there be?" Anbaixiu: "..." He finally understood what Senior Mute meant by this fishman having no brains. Just as he prepared to probe deeper—wanting to at least learn what type of undead Senior Mute was—the sails snapped loudly in the wind, as if the breeze had abruptly shifted direction. Yet Anbaixiu was certain the ocean wind had not changed at all. Phil, who had been swaying drowsily a moment ago, instantly widened his eyes. Up on the mast, a specter let out a piercing shriek: "Captain! We're surrounded by the Children of the Storm! They have twelve medium warships, and... their flagship, the *Gale*, is here too! They're ambushing us!" *Children of the Storm?* Hearing the name made Anbaixiu tense up. The Raging Tide Kingdom was the only nation among the Nine Kingdoms made up of numerous scattered islands. It was neither large in territory nor populous, but every last one of its people was a devout follower of Talos. Reverencing the might of thunder and tempest, they called themselves the Children of the Storm. The Raging Tide Kingdom had only two types of relations with other nations: hostility and blood vendettas. It was a realm of utter madmen. However, the ocean was Talos's home domain, so even though other kingdoms loathed the Raging Tide Kingdom, there was little they could do against them. "Why would the Children of the Storm come looking for trouble with us?" Anbaixiu asked. Phil's answer was blunt: "Because we plunder their cargo all the time." *Ah, well... Looks like Senior Mute isn't particularly adept at dealing with humans either.* Phil chuckled reassuringly. "Heh, bunch of morons thinking I'm easy pickings just because I'm alone! Honored guest, wait here a moment. I'll go take care of these suicidal humans." Phil seized his harpoon and slammed it against the mast. Dense fog billowed from the snapping sails, blanketing the already dark ocean surface in total obscurity. Not long after the black fog spread, bolts of lightning detonated across the heavens, churning the roiling mist. Before the two fleets had even laid eyes on each other, the magical bombardment had already begun! Phil stood at the bow, raising his harpoon high. "Bring her up to full speed! Charge forward and show our honored guest what the Silent Night Pirates are made of!" Hundreds of specters drifted out from the hull, swirling around the ship like a shroud of mist. The ghost ship turned into an arrow loosed from a bow, hurtling headlong toward where the lightning struck thickest.