Pirate Phantom
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Chapter 113: The Sudden Gunshot
🕑 Added 2025-09-27 19:31:06 +0000 UTCThe Lord of Cinder’s strength was undeniable.
To inherit the First Flame, there had to be a minimum requirement of power. Of course, the criteria were a bit unusual—it didn’t always equate to sheer combat ability. According to the records of the Radiant Sun faith, history had seen Lords of Cinder who were more scholar-like, excelling in theory rather than battle.
The Forbidden Lord of Cinder, however, was a more peculiar case.
He was exiled, merely one among the many of his kind. As an individual, his power was not insignificant, but to say he could, like those who slumbered in Lordran, bathe in the First Flame and return to life in full strength—that was far too unrealistic.
It was clear his power had been weakened.
The influence of Chaos, the aftereffects of long slumber, and the purification tortures inflicted by zealous clergy had forced the Forbidden Lord of Cinder down from a once-stable Silver rank to Iron.
In the Fractured, such ill-fated figures were given a glorified title by players: the Fallen.
Notably, earlier bosses of previous versions often fell under the same classification—Maria of the Astral Clocktower being one such example.
Even so, a dying camel is still bigger than a horse. Though Chaos had dulled the Lord’s mind, his centuries of undefeated battle experience remained intact. The Black Coat might believe he could take this opponent down, but he knew he’d have to give it his full hundred percent effort.
And besides… wasn’t there still a third party lurking in the shadows?
Facing the Lord of Cinder’s sword stance, the Black Coat’s armored gauntlets gave a metallic snap as blades shot from the knuckles in a graceful arc. This hybrid of offense and defense was favored among the Military Intelligence Department’s executioners.
The steel-clad fists could crush bone with ease, and the hidden blades were like a venomous serpent’s fangs—once revealed, they were a killing edge.
The Department’s assassination techniques were particularly effective against humanoid targets, much like how a butcher’s cleaver carved through beasts with ease.
From her safe vantage, Maria immediately recognized the Black Coat’s approach. This assassination style was well-known among players: a close-range technique for ambushing and cheesing NPCs. When used skillfully, a player could shatter a throat or snap a neck before the target had time to react.
“Low-tier killer’s trick, high-tier chicken rib.”
Maria’s judgment was blunt. With each new version update, she knew this technique was one destined for obsolescence.
As she observed, her crimson pupils suddenly narrowed.
The fight had begun!
The Forbidden Lord of Cinder struck first, his opening charge like a knight’s lance, sweeping aside the stalemate. A brilliant arc of steel flashed as his Farron Greatsword slashed at the Black Coat, pressing his advantage.
But the Black Coat’s response was faster, slipping aside with quick, shuffling footwork.
He kept a clear head.
His weapon had shorter reach than his enemy’s. If he allowed himself to be caught in the Lord’s zone of suppression, it would be a grave disadvantage. After all, who could doubt the lethality of a Lord of Cinder’s swordsmanship? To mortals, they were practically ancient demons.
Still, the Black Coat had an advantage of his own: human hands are the epitome of dexterity.
A greatsword and a fist-blade—both extensions of the body, yet the latter was inherently more flexible. No matter how refined the Lord’s swordsmanship, he couldn’t defy the limits of his steel weapon to match the agility of flesh.
Their clash was cautious. The Forbidden Lord maintained pressure, wielding his range and the oppressive blaze of Wolf Swordsmanship, though he carefully held back his true killing strike. Flames roared with each arc of his blade, forcing the Black Coat to retreat again and again. The searing heat was not something willpower alone could overcome.
To the retreating soldiers, it looked like an evenly matched duel, each side trading blows in a spectacular dance. But Maria saw through it at once: both combatants were holding back.
In simple terms—they weren’t fighting seriously.
They both knew a third party was watching. If they could quickly subdue the other without much cost, they’d do so. Otherwise, the unspoken agreement was simple: don’t let an outsider swoop in for an easy victory.
“Looks like I’ll have to give you two a push.”
Muttering to herself, Maria drew a rarely used firearm from her thigh. Unlike the steam-driven weapons that dominated the Fractured, this one was crude and primitive—gunpowder-powered. Loud, forceful, and nothing like the dainty weapons expected for a lady.
Steam rifles always felt like they lacked something in her hands.
With her peculiar sense of taste, Maria preferred the raw power of a powder gun. Now she held it loosely, muzzle angled down, watching the ongoing duel between the Black Coat and the Forbidden Lord of Cinder.
It was the classic telltale sign of a parry shot.
In the past life of the Fractured, the universal technique of shield parry had been developed by Hunters into a full parry system with firearms.
A veteran Hunter could even parry when ambushed from behind by a beast, reflexively raising their gun to counter. It was the perfection of turning offense into the ultimate defense.
With Chilling Insight and Relentless Hunter augmenting her, Maria’s timing was absolute. The moment she fired, the fragile balance of this duel would shatter beyond repair.
The Black Coat? Or the Forbidden Lord of Cinder?
Choose one—break the balance.
Both duelists, half-feigning their duel, simultaneously felt a chill. A gaze colder than death itself seemed to descend from above, indifferent and lethal. Wherever it turned, it left them feeling the threat of death.
Normally, they would have located the source of danger within seconds and countered.
But their focus was tied up in each other, their divided attention leaving them blind in that first crucial instant.
Maria’s crimson pupils aligned through the sight, locking on the Black Coat. A sly smile tugged her lips.
Bang!!
The gunshot cracked, the steel-cored slug howling as it tore through the air!
