Chapter 15: Retribution for Good and Evil
The Steel Blade was indeed a formidable man.
Garen confirmed this from his own experience tally: the experience he gained from Steel Blade alone exceeded the combined total from the dozen or so pirate lackeys who had previously fallen beneath his greatsword.
Experience required for leveling up in the early stages was minimal, so in that instant, Garen’s level indicator shifted from 2 to 3.
A third skill became available:
[Courage]: “Garen fortifies his courage for six seconds, during which he takes 40% less damage.”
This skill, too, differed slightly from its counterpart in the original game—simple, but powerful.
Garen gladly accepted this new defensive miracle, then cast a murderous gaze toward the remaining pirate lackeys.
A man who had just been shot through the heart and had his throat slit—wearing armor soaked in scarlet blood, brandishing the massive greatsword that had slain his own boss, now stared at them from afar…
“Ghost!”
The lackeys responded with genuine terror.
Their legs went limp, faces pale, not daring to move a muscle.
One lackey, with slightly better nerves, regained control of his body in an instant and fled madly like a beaten dog.
“Hundred-Step Flying Sword!”
Garen unleashed his ancestral technique without hesitation.
His greatsword flew out, crushing the fleeing lackey into bloody pulp, earning Garen another sliver of experience.
Garen reached out and summoned his sword back from thin air, then addressed the remaining petrified lackeys:
“You reap what you sow.”
“Want to escape? Ask my mighty sword first!”
The lackeys exchanged glances, courage utterly drained.
They all dropped to their knees, trembling as they pleaded:
“We won’t run, we won’t run!”
“Mercy, sir knight!”
Seeing this, Garen slowly rested the sword on his shoulder.
Though these lackeys were living sources of experience, since they’d surrendered, Garen saw no reason for unnecessary slaughter.
Even someone like Steel Blade had his limits; Garen didn’t wish to become the kind of power-hungry scum with no boundaries.
He casually pointed at one pirate:
“You, tie up the rest.”
“I’ll hand you all over to the constable soon, let them deal with you according to local law.”
“Thank you, thank you, sir knight!”
The pirates kowtowed in gratitude, tension easing in their hearts: According to local law, their worst fate would be a dozen years behind bars, but their lives would be spared.
At that moment, the young reporter rescued earlier finally came to his senses…
He gazed at Garen’s imposing figure, eyes nearly sparkling with gold:
“Champion of justice, helper of the weak, righteousness incarnate…”
“Steel-boned, sword-proof, unmatched in courage and wisdom.”
“For two strangers, he risked his life and faced danger head-on.”
“Is this the legendary knight of justice?!”
The young reporter trembled with excitement, then raised his cherished camera without hesitation, snapping shot after shot of Garen standing proud, sword in hand.
He was indeed worthy of his profession.
The moment the blond youth raised his camera, his shaking hands stilled like stone.
He precisely managed exposure, color temperature, rendering, angles, and lighting, capturing Garen’s heroic stance in perfect light and shadow.
Yet the reporter’s overzealous display made Garen’s scalp tingle somewhat.
He quietly edged two steps away from the young man who seemed ready to pounce at any moment.
But the one who actually rushed forward was not the reporter worshipping Garen like a god, but Nami, whose tear-streaked face had yet to be wiped.
She swung her delicate fist with all her might, pounding Garen’s armored chest in anger:
“You bastard!”
“You’re not dead after all!!”
Nami struck so hard that Garen’s health dropped by more than ten points.
“No need for surprise…”
Garen, feigning ignorance, changed the subject:
“It’s just my special ability, similar to a Devil Fruit.”
“Who asked you that?”
Nami’s fair cheeks flushed with embarrassed annoyance, and she struck Garen’s chest even harder:
“I thought you…”
She hadn’t even bothered to wipe away her tears, venting her tangled emotions in exasperation:
“You heartless scoundrel, tricking a girl’s feelings!”
Garen simply laughed triumphantly:
“Hahaha…”
“After all the times you’ve tricked me, it’s finally my turn!”
Just then, footsteps approached from the distance.
The leader was the middle-aged constable who had fled earlier, followed by the security team who had previously withdrawn.
Unlike last time, the constables now mastered the artful timing of police arrivals in literary works.
It turned out the security officers who evacuated first didn’t go far; after their commander was captured, they hid nearby to observe the situation.
They simply lacked the courage to charge in, as Nami had.
“You’re here?”
Garen greeted the constable casually, then inquired with concern:
“How’s the young man?”
Faced with Garen, blood-soaked from battle, the constable was initially reserved; yet at Garen’s question, he relaxed:
“He’s been taken to the hospital, nothing serious.”
“That’s good…”
Garen pointed to the bundled pirates and the heap of steaming corpses, addressing the constable:
“I’ll leave the aftermath to you…”
“Yes, sir knight!”
The constable bowed respectfully to the young Garen, then turned to his men:
“Don’t stand there—get to work!”
The officers moved efficiently, some rounding up prisoners, others handling bodies, all in orderly fashion.
Though they’d done such work before, it was always for minor pirates. Clearing up after a million-level pirate crew was a first.
The constable surveyed the bloody battlefield, counting under his breath:
“One, five, ten… nineteen.”
Finally, he ordered a young man beside him:
“Go to the coffin shop and order nineteen coffins.”
“Charge it against the town’s security budget.”
The young man nodded and made to leave.
“Wait!”
Garen suddenly called out, puzzled, and asked the constable:
“What’s this?”
“You’re buying coffins and building graves for these pirates?”
“Yes…”
The constable replied, as if it were obvious: “Why not?”
“These murderers, arsonists, thieves…”
Garen retorted, displeased:
“You’re spending public funds to bury them and put up grave markers?”
The constable hesitated, then said:
“But that’s how we’ve always done it.”
“No matter how bad they were, they’re still men of the sea.”
Indeed, this world was excessively tolerant toward pirates.
They buried pirates with markers, rarely executed captured pirates on the spot.
Even those who razed cities and nations, once caught, could find free lodgings in Impel Down, and with luck, escape with the protagonist to wreak havoc again.
The constable, moved, continued:
“On these seas, only by burying others…”
“When your turn comes, you won’t end up rotting in the wild…”
“Nonsense!”
Garen interrupted, his expression dark:
“Letting villains die an honorable death only makes more graves on the sea!”
Too cruel to the good, too kind to the wicked…
This had always been a social disease Garen despised, even in his previous life.
Pointing at the pirate corpses—including Steel Blade—Garen said coldly:
“Hang them up for me, display them on the dock’s flagpoles to dry in the wind!”
This method, Garen had learned from the movie—Caribbean… er…
From the American film, Pirates of the Caribbean.
Back then, the British Royal Navy dealt with pirate bodies in this way.
That was the fate pirates deserved for their countless crimes.
“This?”
The constable objected hesitantly: “Isn’t that a bit much…”
“What’s the problem?”
Garen countered:
“Hang the Steel Blade Pirates’ bodies on the dock…”
“Next time pirates consider raiding Samwell Island, they’ll think twice about their heads!”
The constable’s eyes lit up.
In that instant, Garen’s logic shifted his perspective.
“Captain?”
The young man asked uncertainly, “Should I still buy the coffins?”
“No more coffins!”
The constable made his final decision:
“Do as the knight says—hang these pirates’ bodies on the dock!”
“Oh, and…”
A shrewd glint flashed in his eyes as he added:
“We may not buy coffins, but don’t forget to claim burial expenses from the town…”