Chapter 234
Chapter 234
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 234
Chapter Title: Olivia's Navy Takes Shape
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Olivia's beachside.
Vessels with sails bearing all manner of skull motifs floated in chaotic disarray.
Flutter!
From the mast of a ship without a skull emblem, a massive red flag unfurled and billowed.
At that signal, three ships amid the scattered fleet moved with perfect precision, forming up in a single file line.
"Fire!"
A gravelly old voice echoed far and wide from the flagship, amplified by a sound magnification spell.
Boom! Boooom!
Cannonballs erupted from the three ships, streaking toward the buoys bobbing on the sea in flawless unison.
Splash! Splash! Crash!
Amid a roar that seemed to turn the heavens upside down, the shells pulverized the buoys and vanished beneath the waves.
"Ooooh..."
The slaves who had come from the Kingdom of Sharon—now residents of Olivia's territory and naval recruits—let out gasps of awe.
Among them was a young boy named Jason, who had come with Jenny.
"What you just witnessed is what you'll be doing once you join Olivia's navy! From now on, you'll drive pirates from the kingdom's seas and go on to safeguard the waters of the kingdom's southern reaches!"
A knight clad in gleaming armor without a single blemish bellowed.
"It's dangerous work! You might even lose your precious lives! But that danger comes with commensurate rewards! Those who wish to protect their dear families and neighbors, become proud members of Olivia's navy!"
Perhaps due to the impressive display moments ago, the recruits showed no great agitation at the mention of battling pirates.
No, the true reason they remained unshaken lay elsewhere.
It was the pay.
The navy offered wages that dwarfed any other profession in Olivia.
It signaled the peril involved, but the compensation was far too generous for them to voice their fears.
For those who had families to feed, there were no other options.
Knight Beskin was well aware of this. Yet he had shown them that display to convey, at the very least, that those who enlisted wouldn't meet meaningless deaths like stray dogs.
The demonstration had undoubtedly worked. The recruits' faces, which had looked as if they'd already accepted their doom, now brightened.
Jason was one of those whose expression had lifted.
'Jenny...! I'll work hard, bro promises to make it!'
The young Jason siblings had no other options available to them, which was why they'd signed up for the navy. But after witnessing that training, Jason resolved himself.
Having narrowly escaped a life of slavery, he would give his all to become a splendid navy man.
"Anyone who's changed their mind, line up over there! We'll assign you other work immediately. But after this moment, there's no turning back! This is your last chance!"
Beskin pointed to the right side of the beach, but not a soul moved.
They had all watched the training and reached the same conclusion as Jason.
Smirk.
Beskin’s lips curved in satisfaction at the success of the prepared drill. Did they know what kind of grueling training it took to achieve that flawless coordination?
'Well, too late now.'
With a mischievous grin like a rascal, Beskin turned toward the sea, where the ships had already finished their drill and anchored at the shore.
"Now, allow me to introduce the naval instructors who will train you from this day forward!"
Figures disembarked from the ships and ascended the platform where Beskin stood, in perfect order.
They were the young folk from Raine Village who had guarded Olivia under Elder Delro's guidance all this time.
Having honed their skills under Delro for years, they now stepped up as instructors to train the new recruits.
"Then, Delro, she's all yours."
"Heavens, Sir Beskin. You insist on such formality with this old man—it's hard to keep up."
Delro, once merely the chief of a humble fishing village, spoke with utmost humility, but Beskin never dropped his formal tone, no matter what.
He was the one Jerome had personally appointed as the navy's overall commander, after all. And Beskin had immediately recognized the man's extraordinary talent.
Delro was no ordinary village head.
What village chief could forge his villagers into such disciplined sailors?
And look—even now.
The elder, who had seemed at a loss around Beskin, transformed the instant he turned to face the recruits(?).
"Welcome, assai—that's navy slang for recruits. I'm Delro, your chief instructor."
"......"
Delro chuckled at the recruits standing there blankly, unsure how to respond.
"This batch of assai looks delightfully green. No time like the present—let's start training. See those ships over there?"
Elder Delro pointed to a pirate vessel at the farthest edge of the shore.
"Touch it and return. First three win. The rest run again. Go!"
"......?"
As the recruits stood frozen in confusion at Delro's words, the newly promoted(?) instructors from Raine Village began barking orders.
"Run!"
"You think this is a vacation?!"
Thwack!
"Eek, eeeek!"
The instructors kicked a few recruits' rears, sending them scrambling off in a frenzy.
"Most of 'em will puke their guts out, for sure."
Beskin made a mental note to prepare porridge for dinner to aid digestion as he left the training grounds.
His eyes caught sight of one young child amid the chaos.
"...That kid's got sharp instincts, at least."
While the other recruits floundered, the boy had bolted ahead early, putting plenty of distance between himself and the rest.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
In the Sea King's Hall on Bonodo Island.
Balak sat alone, drumming his fingers on the armrest, lost in deep thought.
Lately, after training, he skipped his usual indulgences and spent longer hours here in contemplation.
—Olivia is the land where 'he' resides. Couldn't he turn that mere cub of a Baron Jerome into a mighty lion?
Martel's question, tossed at him after he'd emerged from one such indulgence to stave off boredom.
Those words lingered relentlessly in Balak's mind.
Tap!
"...Heh! It's been ages since I felt this."
Swoosh!
Balak's hand brushed across his chest.
Countless scars marred his bare torso.
Medals earned from subjugating the archipelago's beast-ridden islands, clashing endlessly with ferocious creatures.
Among them, the largest—a massive gash piercing straight through the center of his chest.
The remnant of a wound from an enormous harpoon fit for slaying sea monsters. Even after all these years, its presence remained stark.
Zing!
Recalling the memory stirred the dull ache of that old injury.
It had been the first time. Back when he rampaged across the seas to conquer the archipelago, he'd never felt his life truly threatened.
And ironically, it wasn't from the savage pirates of the islands, but from the pathetic navy he'd always scorned.
"...And their power was downright laughable."
So feeble they couldn't even touch Master level—utterly insignificant, in a word.
Yet it was an encounter that had Balak himself contemplating death, backed into a corner.
There was a reason such meager force had brought him low.
'His' command of naval battles had reached a divine realm, no exaggeration.
Balak still couldn't forget the vivid emotions of that day.
The humiliation of being utterly crushed by someone so weak he could kill with a single breath, feeling his life hang by a thread.
The ecstasy from witnessing how exquisitely artistic masterful naval command could be.
And the anticipation that perhaps 'he,' who hadn't been seen on the seas since that day—his spirit broken—might return to these waters.
Amid that whirlwind of emotions, Balak, after prolonged reflection, finally steeled his resolve.
"Anyone here?"
Whoosh!
From the silent shadows behind him, a ghostly figure materialized and prostrated before Balak.
"Relay to the Kibele Pirates: Ignore other regions. Prioritize the conquest of Olivia."
The figure trembled at Balak's calm declaration.
'Conquest.' The weight in that single word was not lost on them.
Their king wasn't ordering the usual raids—he was declaring war on the kingdom.
But hesitation was fleeting. It was a direct command from the king. All they had to do was deliver it.
Hands and feet weren't meant for thinking, after all.
Swoosh!
The figure bowed even deeper and vanished silently.
The Sea King's Hall fell quiet once more, as if nothing had happened.
Balak leaned his head on his arm atop the rest, his earring clinking softly.
Tinkle!
"Heaven-sent shield, third son of Bacchus..."
Balak recalled what he'd heard of Jerome in connection to 'him.'
Apparently, he'd thrown a wrench into countless schemes prepared by the Holy Empire.
Not bad for his age. His future held promise. But that was it. It wasn't enough to pique Balak's interest.
Honestly, he didn't care. Even wiping out the Neptune Pirates was no big deal; the archipelago teemed with pirates like grains of sand. They could replenish through others.
Yet Balak's reason for siccing the Kibele Pirates on Olivia was singular.
The chance that 'he,' who had retreated to the mountains with a broken spirit, might return to the sea.
Balak already dominated the entire southern seas, including the archipelago.
Money, women, power. Even continent-renowned martial prowess.
He had it all. The suffocating thirst came from having nowhere left to expand.
'His' return would quench that thirst instantly.
That emotion he'd felt only once before.
The rapture only possible in that desperate brink-of-death tension.
What happened to some greenhorn mattered not a whit.
But 'he' regarded this Jerome pup as a hero.
And 'he' awaited a hero. One to secure the final nest he'd claimed.
Thus, he wouldn't stand idly by if that hero faded away pointlessly.
"Work off that sluggish, flabby gut. Else, the cub lion you fancy—and your precious final perch—will vanish without a trace."
If he could reignite the fire in that shattered, broken spirit.
He'd gladly burn pirate fleets as kindling.
"Heh heh heh! Grow big and strong, little lion... and you too."
Balak's enigmatic laughter alone echoed through the Sea King's Hall.
Huff, huff!
Jason panted like a dog overheating in summer, tongue lolling as he gulped dry air.
He could scarcely breathe otherwise.
His clothes were long since stained yellow with sea wind, waterlogged sand, sweat, and dust.
He was still better off than most.
Smaller and younger—a disadvantage—so he'd stayed sharp, moving faster than anyone.
The moment that ghostly—no, demonic—old man said run, he'd bolted without looking back.
Why? Hard to say.
The instant he heard 'assai,' every nerve tensed rigid. When the order to run came, instinct simply screamed to obey.
Pure animal reflex.
Thanks to it, he'd barely snagged third place and now sprawled here.
The other assai, save him and two others, still madly dashed along the beach.
"Faster, you slugs!"
"Oh? Walking now? Want me to tuck you in?!"
"Urk!"
The instructors, who had shown such picture-perfect drills earlier, now hounded the recruits—assai—in their hexagonal caps like madmen.
"On your feet, now!"
"Gah! Instructor, I... I can't... bleeech!"
A few had hit their limit, vomiting up breakfast for all to see, but the instructors didn't flinch.
"You chose Olivia's navy! Grit your teeth and endure!"
Delro, watching from the platform, beamed with contentment.
"That's right. True sailors. Baron Jerome, the kingdom's hero, needs a fine navy."
He couldn't let that comet-like young hero, who blazed into this turbulent era, die a meaningless death at this merciless sea like he almost had.
One mistake was enough.
"......"
A bitter shadow crossed his eyes, as if recalling something. Delro rubbed them away and bellowed at the recruits.
"Lunch is special today: hardtack and porridge—the staples you'll eat aboard! Dig deep and run!"
Once they tasted the navy emblem itself—hardtack—they'd grasp the allure.
Especially savoring that sweet nostalgic flavor.
"Let me out of heeeere!!"
Olivia's serene beach, untouched by storms.
Thus, unbeknownst to all, the 'Olivia Navy'—destined to rival the archipelago's pirates—began its quiet genesis.