Black Sail

Hundreds of corpses lay on the coast, their blood flowing like a river, while lightning flashed and thunder roared outside the cave, accompanied by fierce wind and rain.

The rockets, previously snapped by the First Officer of the Black Sail, had fallen on some of the nearly scrapped ships nearby, igniting the doused rags and boxes inside, and now they blazed intensely with fire.

Sparks drifted throughout the entire cave.

All they needed to do was to kill this last person to ensure a successful escape by sea.

Liszt had an extremely ominous feeling—the ground awash with blood and corpses, the open coastal plain, the giant ship ablaze with fire, the cave’s exterior whipping with gales and torrential rain—all of it stacked up like a damn battlefield from Boss Era.

A thunderbolt struck, its flash instantaneously piercing through heaven and earth.

Marcus, who had aged a bit, with wrinkles at the corners of his eyes, had dry hair, and his eyes were completely clouded over, blind. His terrifying metal jaw and the scratched-up face never revealed a Priest’s kindness, no matter the expression. Adorned in Chain Armor, he stood atop the coast.

Fen never imagined this individual had concealed such prowess; seeing Liszt receiving the goods, he too was reassured.

"I am a ritualistic priest of the Sect, my hands should not be tainted with fresh blood, but since it has come to this, there is no other choice."

To maintain the necessary Comprehension required for resonating with the Dragon Lord, he must abstain from bloodshed, setting aside all distractions.

But he was surrounded by a bunch of incompetents, so Marcus had to take matters into his hands.