The Vastness of Magical Destiny
Chapter 815: Volume 25 Striking the Waters - 2 Great Achievements (1)

Chapter 815: Volume 25 Striking the Waters Chapter 2 Great Achievements (1)

Watching Conan, who was drowned in alcohol all day, Ramla felt as if his heart was being wrenched. Everything had been overturned, his most esteemed eldest son had become a drunkard intoxicated daily, while the rebel of yesteryear had now become his liege. Though he did not acknowledge the other’s title, it was a fact that would not change at his will. He was aware that although the nobles in the city were still taking a wait-and-see approach, Komer’s displayed contempt and disdain had not only caused the nobles to feel insulted and trampled but also filled them with anxiety and unease.

Odessa had completely surrendered to that rebel. It was said that even the Odessa Business Association had granted Komer the title of Guardian of the Nether Sea, which, though somewhat presumptuous, also showed the merchants’ heartfelt welcome toward Komer.

Philip’s small fleet, composed of a few maritime drifters and lowly fishermen, was the first to accept Komer’s offer at the earliest opportunity, becoming the first to submit to the new master. Although the nobles and merchants did not highly regard this motley crew, it nonetheless brought a considerable impact. After the dissolution of the Knights regiment and the Storm Infantry Division, Komer had not managed to win the support of these scattered armed forces, despite having received a decree from Cartin. The Homer Fleet had started a bad precedent, acting like a weathervane, indicating that step by step, Homer would fall into Komer’s hands.

Ramla realized that he could not change any of this. For him, that rebel was as a thorn in his heart, yet he was powerless to remove it. How wonderful it would have been if all this glory belonged to Conan. But looking at Conan, who was sound asleep on the bed, Ramla could only express his helplessness and sorrow with a sigh.

These days would not last much longer. Although Komer had not yet set foot in Cyprus, Ramla knew when his illegitimate younger son entered the city, everyone there would have already prostrated themselves at his feet. Looking at the merchants in the city like ants on a hot pan, the nobles who could not sleep at night, and the townspeople who talked about the glory of Odessa all day, Ramla understood that the rebel had successfully stirred the emotions of everyone in the city. All he needed was such an effect. Soon these people would obediently, even tearfully, beg for his forgiveness. Such was the reality.

When three armed warships flying the Bear Head Flag and the Sword and Shield Flag sailed into Bahomon, they nearly captured the attention of everyone on Bahomon Pier. For those who lived inland, these large warships that usually appeared at sea were a novel sight, with their high sides and numerous masts. A sailor with an expression of extreme pride and arrogance, carrying a sword and leaping about the ship as if on solid ground, without any trace of affectation, displayed an air of fierceness and ruggedness that made everyone busy on the pier instinctively realize that this fleet was extraordinary.

As the sailors marched off the gangplank in rows, the people on Bahomon Pier realized that this fleet belonged to Caucasus, to Lord Komer. A mix of surprise and a touch of proud emotion quickly spread throughout Bahomon, a town of diverse races. For a region that had always been confined to inland areas, the unexpected possession of a fleet capable of dominating the sea and protecting the sailing of Caucasus merchant ships brought a sense of security and accomplishment that was, without doubt, a pleasant surprise for every Caucasian.

Even though the sailors’ attire appeared more motley and disordered compared to the polished armor of the Caucasian Soldiers, managing uniformity in armor and attire on the turbulent sea is clearly unrealistic. But these weren’t concerns for the public; they knew that from the Catania River to the sea, there was now a fleet belonging to Caucasus escorting their merchant ships.

Looking at the radiant, dark-skinned but incredibly vigorous Hayreddin, his wild and impudent spirit was palpable even from a few steps away. Gold will always shine, and cooped up in Caucasus, a piece of gold like him would lose its luster. However, once thrown into the tumultuous sea, amidst the waves, it is time for him to shine.

Komer felt deeply satisfied from the bottom of his heart, his spur-of-the-moment idea had led to the creation of a fleet without spending much funds or effort. He had left everything to Hayreddin to manage, and now it seemed he was already tasting the fruits of success.

"Well done, Hayreddin! To forge such a fleet, I am very pleased, I am proud of you!" The current Komer was no longer the former Lord of Caucasus. Countless trials had essentially transformed him, his every move now exuded the demeanor of a lord, making even Hayreddin sense that his benefactor was no longer the modest minor lord of the past.

"It’s all thanks to the Lord’s cultivation and care. Without your full support, our fleet could never have achieved such results," Hayreddin’s wide mouth cracked a smile, his white teeth contrasting sharply against his dark skin.

"How are things going with Demisheme?" Komer’s primary concern was the chess piece he had placed on Xifnos Island, a strategic location at the crossroads of traffic between the Southern Mediterranean and the Continent. To avoid Demisheme’s harassment, merchant ships from the Southern Mediterranean had to detour farther north to reach the Continent. He had chosen this location for his naval base to capitalize on the optimal timing of Carter Fleet’s struggle for supremacy with Gray Skull in the North Mediterranean. However, this move also increased the pressure on Hayreddin—he would often lack the support of the Carter Fleet and have to face the formidable armed pirates of Demisheme alone.

In the letter to Komer, Hayreddin was vague, only mentioning significant progress in the Southern Storm Ocean but, perhaps in consideration of secrecy, omitted any specific details.

"This is the main reason for my return to Caucasus. As soon as I docked in Mattdam and heard that Lord Komer was inspecting Bahomon, I sailed upstream to meet with you, Sir. I am here to report the accomplishments our Caucasus fleet has achieved ever since its establishment," the glint in Hayreddin’s eyes alerted Komer that something substantial must have prompted Hayreddin to enter the inland river without permission. It was well-known that in Caucasus, Hayreddin’s identity was still not made clear, and such a brazen entry inland meant that his maritime power would now be revealed publicly.

"Oh?" Komer gestured for Hayreddin to sit and talk in detail, not hurrying to inquire—maintaining his composure was already a custom of those in superior positions.

"After our fleet was formed, we clashed with Demisheme seven times. The Carter Fleet supported us in the first encounter, and we emerged undefeated. But in the second, third, and fifth battles, we suffered defeats," Hayreddin related with a calm demeanor as if discussing something unrelated to him, yet the memories shadowing his brow allowed Komer to sense the brutality and bloodshed of those naval battles.

Komer nodded silently, aware that it was inevitable for a newly formed fleet to struggle for success; what mattered was the final outcome.

"The fourth battle ended in a draw, but starting from the sixth naval combat, we began to gain the upper hand. I allied with the Corinthian Federation Countries to block the Southern Mediterranean coast, decisively cutting off Demisheme’s likelihood of obtaining supplies from the smugglers there. They were forced to make a detour a thousand kilometers west of the Storm Ocean for resupply. Assuming the risk, I led the allied fleet deep into the stomach of the Storm Ocean and ambushed Demisheme right after they had resupplied, finally achieving victory."

Although the words were brief, Komer understood there were bound to be harrowing tales, deadly skirmishes, and countless unknown treacheries and betrayals between the lines.

From the fringes of the Southern Mediterranean to the Storm Ocean, the lairs of Demisheme had been entrenched for years; the countries of the Mediterranean feared them more than the Carter Fleet. After all, the Carter Fleet usually refrained from excessive behavior as long as you paid sufficient passage dues, whereas the Demisheme armed group, consisting of multiple gangs without anyone to check them, was notorious for often breaking principles, unpredictably roaming, and even raiding ashore. Generally, the countries of the Southern Mediterranean were reluctant to offend Demisheme, and to think of them aiding in a blockade or even forming a combined fleet was astonishing—how had Hayreddin managed this? Moreover, ambushing Demisheme in the Storm Ocean was akin to extracting a tiger’s tooth; the risks were presumably immense.

Hayreddin could see that Lord Komer had grasped the significance of his words, and was profoundly moved to have such an understanding Lord who had supported him wholeheartedly from the beginning. To most, this support would have seemed like a gesture of throwing money into the water, but it had remained unwavering. Moreover, Lord Komer had provided him with weapons close to Divine Artifacts, such as the Magic-armed gun and Mirror of Thousand Miles. Hayreddin, who had no experience or background like a vagabond, could find no other way to repay such trust but to lay down his life in service.

Fortunately, his boldness and efforts had finally paid off richly. It was only with this success that Hayreddin dared to return to Caucasus so openly and with such urgency to present this significant achievement to Lord Komer. (To be continued, if you wish to know what happens next, please visit WWW.QIDIAN.COM for more Chapters, support the author, support authorized reading!)