Pirate Phantom
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Chapter 62: The Foreigner’s Question
🕑 Added 2025-08-13 11:11:32 +0000 UTC“Stench?”
Maria thought it was just one of that damned Foreigner’s bad jokes. But when she saw the earnest, emotionless look in his eyes, her chest tightened for no clear reason. Ever since Torrent City, that oppressive weight hanging over the heart of the black-robed nun had always been there—yet at this moment, it felt frighteningly clear.
“Sorry. I didn’t notice anything.”
“Really?”
Her lowered lashes hid all the ripples in those crimson eyes. Feeling guilty, Maria averted her gaze from the Foreigner’s.
But the Foreigner, sharp and unyielding, didn’t let her go. He suddenly closed the distance, the reek of alcohol washing over her and making her stomach churn. Instinctively, she stepped back twice—only for him to follow right on her heels, righteously determined to press his advantage.
‘What are you doing, old man?!’
A sharp metallic rasp rang out as her sword-staff slid an inch from its scabbard, the blade flashing cold in the morning light. Maria had no intention of letting the Foreigner lay a hand on her; one more step, and she would show him what Maria’s Wrath meant.
The glint of steel caught his eye, but his pupils didn’t even flinch—no startled contraction, just steady, assessing scrutiny. He moved faster than she did; before she could fully draw the sword-staff, he stepped in, one hand pushing the weapon back into place while the other caught her right hand and wrenched it behind her. The entire maneuver was fluid, effortless—and Maria was subdued.
The force behind it was far beyond her reaction speed.
From a distance, the two could almost be mistaken for dance partners locked in a close embrace.
Pressed this close and restrained, Maria found herself oddly calm. Instead of panicking over the humiliation a woman might face in such a position, her mind focused more on how, as a warrior, to break out of a disadvantaged hold.
“Maria, stop hiding behind lies! You’ve sensed it…” The Foreigner’s words cut in like a razor, leaving her no space for rebuttal or distraction. “Give me the chance.”
The false mask ripped away, Maria shut her eyes in pained resignation. From the moment the system alerted her of a Constitution Check, she had been observing. But the truth she uncovered chilled her to the bone—enough that she chose to feign ignorance.
“Chances are few. Your mercy may kill you.”
Looking at Maria’s beautiful yet pleading face, the Foreigner finally released her. Logic told him that keeping her restrained would be the smarter move, but he preferred to believe that, in the face of the coming disaster, this kindhearted Maria would make the right choice.
And if she couldn’t, his blood-thirsted weapon would choose for her.
“Without mercy, there is no iron and blood.”
The sorrow on her face faded bit by bit, replaced by a faint shimmer in her eyes. The world was full of suffering, and hers was far from over.
Seth Town – Small Chapel
As Maria stepped into the familiar square outside the chapel, a wave of dizziness hit her. Even the sun overhead seemed unusually dim and powerless; though it strove to shed its light, its warmth barely touched her.
Was it simply the Cainhurst blood making her body cold, or something else in the air?
She couldn’t tell.
Entering the chapel’s front hall, she saw a figure stir on one of the pews: Green, the vagabond Pastor Lynn had once rescued. He seemed to be waiting.
“Oh, Maria! Hello! Is Pastor Lynn home?”
“I don’t know. Also… this place may soon be unsafe. Stay away from the chapel.”
“Ha! You’re always joking, Maria. Look at this grand building—tsk! And this sturdy dome. It’s far better than the straw hut I use for rain. This place feels so comfortable.” Green sounded almost giddy, greedily breathing in the chapel’s air.
Maria had no interest in arguing.
She hurried toward the rear hall.
No matter what happened, she had to protect Felia and her father, Pastor Lynn. It was the dying wish of her mother, Ruth—that even if Maria herself was hurt, she must keep them safe. Striding toward her sister’s room, she didn’t bother knocking. With brute force, she kicked the door open.
Bang!
Splinters of wood scattered across the floor, carrying the fury of the one who had smashed through. Stepping over them, Maria strode into Felia’s room.
But the empty space inside made her frown.
This was no good sign. Her original plan was to find Felia, put her on her warhorse, and get her out of town—then focus fully on the hidden threat. The air here carried that same foul scent: corruption, decay, a stench of rot. She would see the one responsible hanged at the gates of Seth Town.
She would tell any opportunistic enemies—
The iron remains.
Following faint traces through the chapel’s rear hall, Maria finally found only a single blue ribbon left behind.
It lay there as if deliberately placed, mocking her for being too late.
“Interesting. A provocation, is it? Demon… when I find you, you’ll burn on the pyre.” Clutching Felia’s favorite ribbon, Maria realized that her hidden enemy was not only impatient, but cunning.
She began searching the back courtyard. In her own home, finding unusual signs was child’s play; she cleared most of the buildings in no time. The only place she hadn’t checked was the pastor’s massive cellar.
And “massive” was no exaggeration.
As Seth Town’s sole religious authority, the pastor’s household had every reason to stockpile supplies—grain, contracts, letters, perhaps even armaments. The cellar entrance was solid, sealed with a heavy iron lock.
Maria was just debating whether to apply the Maria method of forced entry when footsteps behind her made her pause.
“Maria?”
Pastor Lynn stood there, seeing his eldest daughter with sword-staff in hand before the cellar door. He looked somewhat surprised—but not shocked. With a weary sigh, he let his hands fall.
