Black Sail

"My precious, you know I’m saying."

Ben started in an old British accent, then switched to West Coast slang halfway through.

Fen couldn’t believe this caveman had only been on the island for half a year and had leveled up so fast. If Rein’s combat power was ten thousand, his was at least three thousand.

"God damn Supreme Magic Ring..."

Fen was somewhat unable to keep up.

"You really do know. Anyway, that’s what Liszt has been chanting these past few days. It’s unbelievable. That kind of injury, he slept for a day and then was bouncing around like nothing happened. Dead Soldier, usually known as Little Liszt. If there’s nothing else, I need to handle something. I just had a go with that woman." Ben made no attempt to hide it as he adjusted his belt and bullet position, glanced around to see if anyone was near, and then whispered, "You know, sometimes it doesn’t get fully released, and some residue seeps out afterward."

Fen was stunned, having never encountered anyone quite this offensive; no wonder he was Diaz’s watchdog.

"Wait a minute, where’s Liszt?"

"I told you, he’s discussing business with a dragon, a big deal in a big vehicle, no, strictly speaking, it should be called an airplane, not even using fuel anymore, it’s fuel I can’t say, damn it."

Ben lit a cigar and started puffing on it, not inhaling, just letting it roll back and forth in his mouth, his teeth stained yellow with nicotine.

Fen summed up his conversation with this bird; he hadn’t found out anything.