Chapter 13: The Useless Teammate

Although Steelblade had abandoned all dignity and chosen to flee, his escape plan was hardly successful.

After all, he was wounded and bleeding, his strength nearly spent—he was like an arrow at the end of its flight. Worse still, the brute pursuing him possessed a bizarre acceleration technique: whenever his greatsword flashed, his speed would surge by a full thirty percent.

The distance between them shrank at a rate visible to the naked eye.

Steelblade hadn’t even managed to cover dozens of meters before Garen’s sword was already poised to strike his back.

If this continued, he would surely die!

Steelblade foresaw this cruel fate. This self-styled formidable pirate at last revealed his frail side, and, like the weaklings he once despised, he could only pray powerlessly for a miracle.

And just then, the lifeline Steelblade so desperately hoped for actually appeared...

“Stop!”

Steelblade abruptly halted and spun around, shouting at Garen: “One more move and I’ll blow his brains out!”

Garen instinctively halted the sword that was about to strike down and quickly focused his attention on the desperate Steelblade.

To his surprise, cradled in Steelblade’s thick arms was a young man—no one knew when he had ended up there.

This young man was of average build, with delicate features. Unlike the burly giants so common in the world of pirates, he looked like a normal man to someone like Garen. He wore a smart suit, his blond hair neatly combed, with a pair of gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, giving him the air of a refined scholar.

Yet now he looked thoroughly disheveled, dangling helplessly in the air, hoisted by the three-meter-tall Steelblade. A huge flintlock pistol was pressed tightly to his forehead.

“Who is this...?” Garen asked in confusion. This street had long since turned into a bloody battlefield, even the sheriffs had fled—yet here was a bystander?

“A hostage!” Steelblade replied bluntly. “I took a hostage!”

“Don’t—don’t kill me...” The young man, struggling to breathe under Steelblade’s ironclad grip, managed to raise his hand and reveal a camera, rasping, “You can’t kill me. I—I’m a journalist, here to cover the battle!”

“A journalist?” Steelblade was momentarily taken aback, his viciousness softening unconsciously.

Journalists were a mysterious and revered profession at sea. Elite reporters were swift, their footwork uncanny, reflexes sharp, and photography skills almost supernatural. Not even the most notorious pirates, with bounties in the hundreds of millions, could escape their lenses. With but a click, they would capture a perfect high-definition portrait for the next wanted poster.

To get a close-up shot of such fearsome pirates in the midst of battle—these journalists were no ordinary people.

Even the lesser reporters thrived on the seas. Though not particularly powerful themselves, they commanded respect wherever they went. Pirates like Steelblade, eager to raise their status, needed higher bounties; to achieve that, they needed fame. And who better to spread their notoriety than the reporters roaming the sea lanes? Encountering one was a rare stroke of luck for any up-and-coming pirate—they all hoped to make headlines and boost their reputation in front of a journalist’s lens.

Thus, in all his years rampaging across the East Sea, Steelblade had killed all sorts of people—but never a journalist.

“A journalist, huh...” Steelblade murmured, but his face twisted with brutality once more. “That changes nothing. You’ll die all the same! If that tin can moves, I’ll blow your brains out!”

He was on the verge of death anyway—what use were fame and a high bounty now? With this thought, Steelblade tightened his grip on the hapless reporter.

“So...” Garen, seeing the situation clearly, let his expression flatten. “You just grabbed a random bystander to threaten me?”

Steelblade hesitated, realizing that his logic was indeed a bit questionable...

Garen took a slow, deliberate step forward, his gaze fixed on Steelblade with undisguised mockery.

Steelblade broke out into a cold sweat, struck dumb.

“Don’t move!” Suddenly, another deep voice boomed from behind Garen. “Your wife is in our hands!”

“What the hell?” Garen’s easygoing expression froze on his face.

Two burly pirate lackeys, one on each side, brought forth Nami, who had been firmly subdued. A shining blade was pressed to her fair, slender neck, its cold edge nearly slicing the faint blue veins beneath her skin.

Garen said nothing, simply casting an exasperated glance at the captured Nami, his eyes full of silent reproach: “How did you get caught, too?”

One after another, these useless teammates were making the situation increasingly difficult and ruining the experience. Garen felt overwhelmed.

Nami lowered her head in embarrassment.

She had never been especially strong—no match for these powerful, numerous pirates. Earlier, she had recklessly charged into enemy lines to save the middle-aged sheriff, only to realize that escaping would not be so easy. The sheriff had indeed been rescued, but she herself, exhausted, had fallen into the hands of the enemy...

“Hahaha!” Steelblade burst out laughing, elated. “Well done!” He tossed the journalist aside like garbage, then personally took the blade threatening Nami from his lackey.

A random reporter wasn’t enough, but with a wife as collateral, now he was sure of his advantage.

Thus, having transformed into a kidnapper, Steelblade grew bold and greedy, instantly raising his demands from simply “don’t move” to something far harsher:

“You damned knight!” he bellowed. “Want your wife to live? Here’s what you’ll do!”

He tossed his flintlock at Garen’s feet, shouting wildly:

“Kill yourself in front of me, and I’ll let her walk away alive!”

The scene fell silent. Steelblade, the journalist, Nami, the lackeys—all eyes turned to Garen, waiting for his final decision.

In the hush, complex emotions fermented in every heart.

The journalist was already resigned to his fate—after all, he was the weakest party here.

The remaining lackeys were tense, fearing Garen might go berserk and cut down both kidnappers and hostages.

Steelblade himself was calm, quietly watching for Garen’s reaction. As a consummate egotist, he never believed Garen would be foolish enough to “die for his wife.” The condition was simply a sky-high starting point for bargaining. If things went smoothly, not only could he escape alive, but he might also trade the woman’s life for a handsome fortune.

The thought brought a look of greedy anticipation to Steelblade’s ugly face.

As for Nami... her feelings were complicated and hard to describe.

First, she thought of her unfinished quest to save money, the villagers suffering under Arlong’s rule, her beloved sister... Then, of the dream she had never even come close to touching. And then, thinking further... there didn’t seem to be much left in this world to miss. No friends, no freedom, no joy—only pain and betrayal.

In the end, Nami didn’t even consider the possibility of survival. False hope only led to deeper regret.

The pirates were mistaken—she was not the knight’s wife. Nami certainly didn’t think that armored man would trade his life for a thief who had almost stolen his prized sword.

This time, she was surely doomed.

And so everyone, lost in their own thoughts, waited quietly for Garen’s decision.

After a long silence...

“Well?” Steelblade finally grew impatient. “Say something already!”

“Shut up!” Garen retorted sharply, his unrestrained tone making the already nervous Steelblade shrink back.

Fortunately, Garen’s next words were more measured:

“Let me think quietly for a moment longer...”

Let me think quietly for a moment longer...

And my health bar will be full again.