Chapter 172: The Worst Ninth-Tier Spell
As the ghost ship cleaved through wind and waves, the enemy fleet finally appeared upon the horizon.
Twelve massive warships formed a tightening semicircle. Each flew banners emblazoned with the raging wind and surging tide.
Lightning gathered atop every mast, lashing toward the ghost ship in relentless volleys.
Yet the black mist surrounding Phil's vessel proved astonishingly effective. Most bolts dissipated within the fog. Even those few that pierced the darkness veered wildly off course.
Was this how legendary-grade naval warfare was fought?
Ambrose felt his horizons expanding. He had imagined an exciting chase: warships trading spectacular magical bombardments as they zoomed through the surf.
Instead, what followed left him faintly disappointed.
The ghost ship surged forward at full speed and rammed straight into one of the Stormborn's warships. The sharp swordfish figurehead punched deep into the enemy hull. Locked together, both vessels shuddered violently. Then Phil boarded the other vessel.
Ambrose: "…"