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Chapter 271: A Pirate’s New Recruit
🕑 Added 2025-02-18 15:01:01 +0000 UTCCharlot, having received a modern education, always believed that the problem lay not in specific groups of people but in the morally depraved actions committed by individuals. Humanity had evolved from its primal roots, surviving nature’s brutal selection to gradually develop emotions like shame, morality, dignity, love, and compassion.
This was civilization—and also a shackle.
Slave traders had no such lofty ideals. They trafficked orcs, humans, indigenous peoples, and even nobles from the New Continent. It was conceivable they might even sell citizens of the Fars Empire or the Ingrima Empire if given the opportunity; it was simply a matter of whether they’d encountered such prey.
This was a vile trade...
One that should be eradicated with violence.
Charlot tried to clear his mind. In this situation, his current form as a Redback Bear youth, while considered “slim” among the bearfolk, was still tall and imposing compared to humans. It made the cramped space of the slave ship’s hold particularly uncomfortable.
To distract himself, Charlot began practicing Bloodfire Combat Energy, calming his thoughts. In this meditative state, he could temporarily ignore the harsh conditions around him, allowing a sliver of relief.
Like human combat energy, Bloodfire Combat Energy required the condensation of a power seed, which represented the concentrated essence of one’s vitality. Back at the Behemoth National Academy, Charlot had practiced the Lamia Breathing Technique, also known as the Nymph Breathing Technique. This method not only served as an alternative to sleep but also improved water affinity. Unfortunately, he hadn’t succeeded in mastering it.
Charlot didn’t expect practicing Bloodfire Combat Energy to be drastically different. However, as he sank deeper into cultivation, he felt his vitality stir restlessly, gathering in his lower abdomen.
Gradually, his lower abdomen began to radiate warmth, as though a small ember had ignited there. The warmth spread throughout his body, providing comfort despite the damp, suffocating conditions of the ship’s hold. His bear fur, which had been slick with moisture, began to feel less oppressive.
In his orc form, his body’s unique structure suppressed his Blood Glory, but the power seed condensed years ago through the Lamia Breathing Technique—a seed long forgotten because it had failed to hatch—suddenly emerged. In the next moment, it shattered and merged with his lower abdomen.
At first, Charlot thought his years of “hard work” had finally paid off, imagining the seed had hatched at last. Instead, it had completely disintegrated.
Reflecting on his past self, Charlot felt a pang of bittersweet nostalgia. It was as though he had finally bid farewell to the remnants of his old identity. Even the last trace of the former Charlot Mecklenburg had now vanished from the world.
Though the vitality contained in the shattered seed wasn’t particularly strong, it was still the fruit of years of effort by the former Charlot. When it merged with the life force generated by the Bloodfire Combat Energy, a small new power seed quietly took shape in his lower abdomen.
This seed’s formation was akin to installing a “switch” within his body, allowing him to control his life force—to either restrain it or unleash it.
While Charlot was experiencing the new sensations of this cultivation, a sharp voice rang out:
“Get out here, you wretched slaves! Anyone who doesn’t come out will die down here forever!”
Charlot snapped out of his reverie and was the first to climb out of the ship’s hold. The dazzling sunlight made him squint, and it took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the brightness.
One by one, the orc slaves emerged. The ship’s crew counted them and soon descended into the hold to drag out a dozen or so corpses, which they casually tossed into the sea without so much as a second glance.
Charlot’s attention was drawn to the horizon ahead, where an island loomed. Its towering elevation resembled a mountain rising from the sea. The entire island had been converted into a fortress, with alchemical cannons pointing menacingly in every direction.
Around the island, nearly a hundred ships were anchored, about half of which were slave ships. In addition to orcs, the captives included mostly natives from the Ingrima Empire’s Three Islands, with a small number hailing from the New Continent. New Continent natives were considered premium cargo and commanded high prices.
These slaves were destined for various markets. For example, natives from the New Continent would inevitably be sold to the five great empires, where wealthy individuals could afford such “luxuries.” However, natives from the Ingrima Empire’s Three Islands were rarely sold back to their homeland; instead, they were sent to the Old Continent and sold to nations like the Fars Empire or Byron. A few were shipped to the New Continent.
As for orcs, they were exclusively shipped to the New Continent. The Old Continent’s empires considered them a nuisance and would never purchase such slaves.
Charlot, having been born and educated in another world, found this blatant, despicable trade intolerable.
Yet for now, he was powerless to change it.
The crew of the slave ship ordered the orc slaves onto the deck to clear out the hold, tossing the dead overboard. A few orcs were made to carry large buckets of seawater to wash down the hold, after which the survivors were shoved back inside.
Before long, the slave ship docked at Saint Michael Island.
Charlot and the other slaves were herded from the ship to a storage warehouse. After spending half a day there, a man dressed in a brightly colored shirt and dyed shorts—the sort favored by pirates—arrived to select slaves.
Charlot’s tall, strong physique and youthful appearance quickly caught his eye, and he was chosen.
Charlot worried at first that he’d been picked by another slave trader, but his fears were soon put to rest. He and a few hundred other selected slaves—some orcs, but mostly humans—were taken to the island’s castle walls, where they were assigned grueling manual labor under strict supervision.
Charlot, with his sturdy build, was tasked with hauling stones to repair the walls.
For someone who had lived two lifetimes, this kind of hard labor was foreign to Charlot. Yet in his current circumstances, he had no choice but to endure it, slowly channeling his newly formed power seed as he worked. His movements were deliberately sluggish, conserving energy and biding his time.
At night, the workers were given a bucket of gruel of questionable origin. The foul smell was nauseating, but the starving slaves dove into it ravenously.
Charlot, however, used the commotion as an opportunity to look around. When he spotted a pirate dozing in a corner of the castle wall, he thought to himself, “Here’s my chance!”
He shuffled over, pretending to move casually. With a sudden shove, he sent the pirate tumbling off the wall. At the last moment, Charlot grabbed the man’s wrist and shouted, “Help! Someone fell!”
The startled pirate, jolted awake by the fall, screamed in terror, “Don’t let go!”
Nearby pirates noticed the commotion and rushed over. Working together, they pulled the unfortunate man back onto the wall.
Charlot, feigning meekness, attempted to slink away, only to be stopped by a pirate officer. The man looked Charlot up and down before saying, “My crew is short on hands. You’re with me now.”
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