Black Sail

"Stop crying; you're a grown man making a spectacle of yourself. The Demon Hunter from Gion Kingdom is here."

Liszt looked at Archer's sorry state and thought he was not only unfit for chopping people but also seemed to have trouble just climbing into bed. Fortunately, over the years, he had already mastered the correct approach.

Archer's body went cold with fear upon hearing those words. He struggled to his feet with the help of a stone chair, unbuckled the leather belt on his back, and pulled out a heavy weapon with a unique design, gripping it in his hand.

The weapon was called a Curved Sword, somewhat resembling an oversized Nepalese scimitar.

Liszt had heard Archer say he'd never received any combat training; he'd only dealt with meat ingredients day and night before becoming a head chef, skinning, de-sinewing, deboning, and gutting, to the point where he could butcher a cow with his eyes closed.

Gion Kingdom had a famous dish which involved eating monkeys. For Archer, slicing a person was the same as slicing a monkey, and he'd picked up other combat techniques by cutting down a few people, making him a natural talent.

Cooking wasn't a job that purely relied on technique, lacking a bit of arm strength, and you wouldn't be able to handle the meals of dozens or hundreds of people.

Archer once thought being an assistant chef was tough, only to find that being a head chef was even tougher. After not even six months, he was forced to take to the sea. Before, he dealt with things that didn't move; now, he had to deal with things that did.

"Where?"

Archer's adrenaline soared, his liver metabolizing at what felt like dozens of times its normal rate; he sobered up considerably.

"Nah, I was just kidding. Look sharp; someone might die soon."