Chapter 163

Chapter 163: The Dead Don’t Speak (1)

Could it be that they were intimidated by the overwhelming presence of the massive ships surrounding the fishing boat through the mist?

“…Wh-What the…”

Mikkelsen, lifting his head, blinked blankly and muttered something stupid.

The fact that such large ships had suddenly approached through the fog was already shocking enough, but more than anything, on those ships…

“Brother Beryl.”

“Y-Yeah?”

“Isn’t that… a pirate flag?”

“Uh, yeah… looks like it, huh?”

All the surrounding ships were flying a Jolly Roger—with a picture of an octopus sitting on a skull.

“Young Master, didn’t we… come here to catch fish?”

“There. There’s your fish.”

In response to Mikkelsen’s question, Hardin pointed toward the pirate ships.

And then—

“Yaaaarrgh! Who the hell do these fearless bastards think they are, crawling into our waters?!”

“Hohohoho! A bunch of young punks!”

One by one, the pirates began to appear on the deck.

A pirate with a peg leg.

A pirate with an eyepatch and a parrot on his shoulder.

A pirate with all his front teeth missing, and so on.

At a glance, there seemed to be at least a couple hundred of these guys—each looking like they could take on a fight on their own.

“...Pirates. Pirates…!”

“Get a hold of yourself, brother!”

Beryl had gone pale, sweat streaming down his forehead, and Mikkelsen jabbed his elbow into Beryl’s side and shouted.

Of course—

‘A thief or a pirate—aren’t they basically the same thing?’

Hardin couldn’t understand why the two of them were so scared.

If you asked him, Beryl’s face looked way more terrifying than those pirates.

Just then, a middle-aged man on the deck, wearing a captain’s hat, shouted out.

“Brats! What’s your purpose here? State your business!”

Hardin rummaged through his coat, then raised a skull carved from quartz high above his head and shouted.

“I’ve come to fulfill the Redhoof Covenant.”

The Pirate Empress Redhoof’s Covenant.

—I’ll leave this necklace in my grave when I kick the bucket, so make sure my descendants are told properly, brat!

If that old lady hadn’t been lying, then this necklace was definitely the token of the covenant.

“Covenant?”

The pirates on deck widened their eyes and stared intently at the quartz skull in Hardin’s hand.

“What the hell is that…? Any of you seen that before?”

“Nope, first time. No idea what he’s talking about…”

Hmm? Why’s the mood…

At the pirates’ murmurs, Hardin’s brow twitched.

“I found this in Redhoof’s grave. Don’t you know a token when you see one?”

Upon hearing that, the pirates exchanged glances.

“Wahahahaha! This punk’s got jokes, Captain!”

“Redhoof’s grave? If you pulled that off, then I’m the lord of the Caribbean, you bastard! Keh keh keh!”

The pirates burst into laughter, mocking Hardin.

“I’m telling the truth!”

Why wouldn’t they believe him?

Hardin sighed heavily, and the pirate captain stomped his feet.

“Damn it, you little punks shouldn't go around lying.”

“……”

This… didn’t feel good. Something told Hardin this situation was about to get annoying.

An ominous expression started to form on his face—just then,

“Huh? What’s with that one next to you?”

The captain pointed to Jerry, who had his head bowed and was trembling.

“Oh, him? Just a thief I caught. Don’t worry about him.”

Hardin grabbed Jerry’s chin and lifted his face as he spoke.

And then—

“Hey, Captain! Isn’t that guy the one?!”

“Hmm? Oh, you’re right!”

The pirates’ eyes widened, then their faces twisted with rage.

‘Now what?’

Hardin stared at Jerry and asked,

“Hey, did you… get into some kind of trouble with these guys?”

“I wouldn’t call it trouble, exactly. I just… borrowed something from the capital’s folks.”

“What did you borrow?”

“A dungeon map?”

“So, you’re telling me you stole the map to Redhoof’s grave?”

“As I’ve said many times, I didn’t steal it—I borrowed—”

Just then—

“Catch that thief!”

“Grab him noooooow!”

Panicked and furious shouts rang out from the pirates above.

As Hardin slowly raised his head—

“Uwaaaahhh!”

Dozens of pirates, eyes glowing blue, came charging at them.

“Ah…”

We’re screwed, huh?

A wry, troubled smile crept onto Hardin’s face.

---

---

The Caribbean Archipelago.

A collection of islands situated between the western continent—where the Fabian Empire resided—and the central continent, home to a mix of various barbarian and non-human races.

Due to the geographic isolation making access from the mainland difficult, no one knew exactly when it started, but over time, slaves and criminals fleeing from both continents began to settle here.

Perhaps it was due to their backgrounds—or the unique nature of the Caribbean Archipelago, where importing resources from the outside was incredibly difficult.

The people who lived here were usually left with only two occupational choices.

Be a pirate.

Or help the pirates.

And among those who helped the pirates… there were also the ‘jailers’—those tasked with locking up rule-breakers and ensuring they never saw sunlight again.

“P-Please have mercy, sir!”

“The thieving was that guy’s doing! We had nothing to do with it!”

Beryl and Mikkelsen clung to the iron bars blocking their path, crying out in pitiful tones and expressions.

“Ghk!”

At that moment, the one-eyed jailer with an eyepatch furrowed his brow and jabbed a metal rod forward, pushing Mikkelsen and Beryl away from the bars.

As the two of them retreated with tearful faces—

“Shut it! Silence! You thick-headed fools! Kekeke! Kekeke!”

The large parrot perched on the jailer’s shoulder shouted and cackled in laughter.

‘Damn it…’

‘We’re screwed. So screwed.’

The two of them slumped to the floor with faces full of despair.

“We’re dead, we’re dead, we’re deaaaad…”

Right next to them was Jerry, crouched and muttering misfortune, his ears perked up.

And just beside him…

“Huff! Huff! Hey, if you’ve got time to whine, do some exercise or something. At least get moving.”

There was Hardin, doing push-ups with a calm look on his face.

Mikkelsen shot him a glare and muttered through gritted teeth.

“Haaaah, exercise? Really? You think this is the time for that?”

“Then what else is there to do?”

“How should I know?! You’re the Young Master, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be doing something?!”

“Do what, exactly?”

“Persuade the jailer or… I don’t know, bribe him or something!”

Why was this guy being so unusually composed?

As Mikkelsen’s voice grew more desperate, Hardin stood up and stared directly at the jailer.

“Hey, jailer man. Any chance you’ll let us go?”

In response, the guard raised a thumb—then drew it across his throat.

“Told you. No chance.”

“And that’s exactly the problem! You’re just going to sit there and wait to die?!”

Mikkelsen’s face turned beet red as he slammed his head against the wall.

Then, after cooling off a bit, he grabbed Hardin by the collar and pleaded.

“Young Master, you have a plan, right?”

“A plan? Waiting here is the plan.”

“No way. You do have a plan. Right?”

Yeah, he’s probably just saying that.

The Hardin he knew would’ve been throwing a fit and causing a scene the moment the pirates attacked.

But strangely enough, he’d let himself get captured and dragged into a cell without resistance.

There was no way he’d do something so crazy without a plan.

“This is the plan.”

“That was totally useless! So what the hell is it, then?”

Hardin held up the skull pendant hanging from his neck, and Mikkelsen’s brow twisted in frustration.

“If it didn’t work, we just need to meet someone who recognizes it, right?”

“No, could you please explain things so I can actually understand them? I’m seriously dying of stress here.”

As they continued their squabble, the parrot on the jailer’s shoulder shouted again.

“Thieves! Thieves! The dead don’t speak! The dead don’t speak!”

Beryl let out a heavy sigh and mumbled with a tearful expression.

As the two of them retreated with tearful faces—

“Shut it! Silence! You thick-headed fools! Kekeke! Kekeke!”

The large parrot perched on the jailer’s shoulder shouted and cackled in laughter.

‘Damn it…’

‘We’re screwed. So screwed.’

The two of them slumped to the floor with faces full of despair.

“We’re dead, we’re dead, we’re deaaaad…”

Right next to them was Jerry, crouched and muttering misfortune, his ears perked up.

And just beside him…

“Huff! Huff! Hey, if you’ve got time to whine, do some exercise or something. At least get moving.”

There was Hardin, doing push-ups with a calm look on his face.

Mikkelsen shot him a glare and muttered through gritted teeth.

“Haaaah, exercise? Really? You think this is the time for that?”

“Then what else is there to do?”

“How should I know?! You’re the Young Master, aren’t you? Shouldn’t you be doing something?!”

“Do what, exactly?”

“Persuade the jailer or… I don’t know, bribe him or something!”

Why was this guy being so unusually composed?

As Mikkelsen’s voice grew more desperate, Hardin stood up and stared directly at the jailer.

“Hey, jailer man. Any chance you’ll let us go?”

In response, the guard raised a thumb—then drew it across his throat.

“Told you. No chance.”

“And that’s exactly the problem! You’re just going to sit there and wait to die?!”

Mikkelsen’s face turned beet red as he slammed his head against the wall.

Then, after cooling off a bit, he grabbed Hardin by the collar and pleaded.

“Young Master, you have a plan, right?”

“A plan? Waiting here is the plan.”

“No way. You do have a plan. Right?”

Yeah, he’s probably just saying that.

The Hardin he knew would’ve been throwing a fit and causing a scene the moment the pirates attacked.

But strangely enough, he’d let himself get captured and dragged into a cell without resistance.

There was no way he’d do something so crazy without a plan.

“This is the plan.”

“That was totally useless! So what the hell is it, then?”

Hardin held up the skull pendant hanging from his neck, and Mikkelsen’s brow twisted in frustration.

“If it didn’t work, we just need to meet someone who recognizes it, right?”

“No, could you please explain things so I can actually understand them? I’m seriously dying of stress here.”

As they continued their squabble, the parrot on the jailer’s shoulder shouted again.

“Thieves! Thieves! The dead don’t speak! The dead don’t speak!”

Beryl let out a heavy sigh and mumbled with a tearful expression.

---

It had been exactly ten days since Hardin and his group had been locked up in the prison.

“Move it, move it! Let’s go! Hurry, hurry!”

A dozen or so pirates surrounded Hardin’s group and led them out of the prison.

They walked through a narrow, long corridor for a while.

Then suddenly, sunlight poured down from above, and the salty sea breeze hit their noses.

“Fwooooh, the air’s great.”

Hardin flared his nostrils as he said that.

‘Great, my ass!’

‘Does this guy have something wrong with his senses?’

‘…Lunatic.’

Mikkelsen, Beryl, and now even Jerry—each of the three cursed Hardin silently with their eyes.

And shortly after—

“Yarrrrrgh! Here they come!”

“Those are the gutsy bastards who dared step out of line?”

“Damn, they messed with the Admiral’s map? Bold sons of bitches!”

On tall spectator stands flanking both sides, pirates looked down at them and laughed heartily.

It was as if Hardin and his group had become monkeys in a zoo.

As they continued walking forward, the four of them, including Hardin, soon found themselves standing in the center of a coliseum-like arena filled with pirates.

Hundreds—no, at least over a thousand pirates—roared with deafening cheers, overwhelming them with sheer volume.

“Release them.”

“Yes, sir!”

At a pirate’s command, the shackles on Hardin and his companions were removed, and the ones who had unshackled them quickly retreated and locked the entrance behind them.

Just as the preparations were wrapping up—

“Waaaaaaaaah! Welcome to the arena, my fellow pirate comrAAAAAAdes!”

The booming voice came from the front of the arena, pulling the attention of Hardin’s group all at once.

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