Shrouded Seascape-Chapter 575: Trump Card

"I'm no fool either. Ever since the previous ambush, I've had this inkling that something was off. After analyzing the various contradictions, I am certain someone was using both you and me as chess pieces. So, who is it this time?" Charles asked.

"Governor Julio."

Hearing the succinct response from Margaret, a cold smirk surfaced on Charles' countenance. "Just as I thought, it was him."

Margaret's gaze wavered as she stared at Charles. A myriad of feelings stirred in her heart; she took a breath to compose herself before she continued, "You were right before. I'm not cut out for explorations. So to save Whereto, I had to do what I do best, and that is to lure out the spies planted by the Fhtagn Covenant."

Charles turned around to scrutinize Margaret. Under his intense gaze, Margaret shifted uncomfortably. He let out a soft chuckle and said, "It's great that you didn't actually align yourself with the Fhtagnists. Thank you for going this far for me. Let's have a proper chat when this is all over."

Margaret's expression turned icy rapidly. "I didn't do this for you. I promised my father that I would revive Whereto again. Father's Isle of Whereto will always be an island for humans, not a place for sea monsters."

Charles studied Margaret's side profile that was hidden partially by her cascading hair. "We still need to talk; I don't like leaving things unresolved."

At this moment, the heat from the curling waves of the fire receded to reveal Harold's weathered face.

"Charles, you don't seem surprised at all?" Harold questioned.

"Surprised? What's there to be surprised about? Why did you think I revealed my location to you previously? Since everyone is playing their part according to the script, I should do my part too," Charles said as his gaze drifted past the group of mages and landed on the distant horizon.

Clouds of dust billowed from the purple haze as a dozen massive wagons, driven by towering giants over three meters tall, entered the picture. They were the Haikors, who had come out on their own exploration missions. Only the elites renowned within their kind for their formidable prowess would be qualified for such a task.

Having anticipated his adversaries' moves, Charles had made countermeasures. Given that the suspected informant was an insider, they would be alerted if he made use of any resources belonging to Hope Island. However, they wouldn't have any idea if he decided to cooperate with these reclusive yet powerful giants.

The addition of the Haikors on the battlefield changed the tides completely. The crew of the Narwhale and the kings of Sottom were caught off guard. They ceased their battles, puzzled by the sudden turn of events.

"Lily, rotate the cannons! Target: the mages from the Western Seas!" Charles commanded.

Accompanied by a series of squeaks, the deck guns swiveled, their dark muzzles pointing ominously toward Harold's group.

In an instant, the mags realized they were encircled—by Charles' crew, "King" of Sottom, and the approaching massive carriages driven by the Haikors.

Yet, despite their dire predicament, there was not a single trace of panic on the faces of Harold or his over twenty followers. Instead, a dismissive smirk played upon their lips.

"Charles, previously, you said that there was only a single solution to resolve our situation—and that is to find the darkness. But you are wrong; there is a second solution, which is to abandon the losing side and join the winning side."

"The winning side? What good does joining the Fhtagn Covenant do for you? Do you really think those Divinities care about you? You're just mere ants in their eyes, you traitors to your own kind!" Charles spat out, his voice thick with disdain.

Harold shook his head slightly; his gaze remained unwavering. "No, you're wrong. You don't understand the true significance of the Great One. The Fhtagnists had shown me that our magical strength originated from the Great One! Everything that we are came from Him!"

Charles had no intention of further engaging in this pointless debate. With Harold having such unwavering resolve, any further discussion would be futile.

"Fire!" Charles commanded.

With a powerful thrust from the gunpowder, huge cannonballs soared from their barrels and continuously rained down upon the mages. However, the expected sound of the explosions was never heard.

On the right side, five mages quickly stuffed a squishy, gel-like substance into their mouths. In unison, they slammed the bottoms of their staves onto the ground. A semi-transparent dome was conjured in an instant and enveloped the entire group.

Upon striking the barrier, the cannonballs rolled across the surface, their speed decreasing until they eventually stopped and stuck harmlessly on it.

"Gunpowder, machinery, gears… Do you really think that these worthless creations of mortals can defeat power granted by a Divinity?"

For the first time ever since they came to know each other, Charles saw Harold's face contorted with rage. His white beard quivered like writhing tentacles.

"You think we are a bunch of old fogeys who can't keep up with times and would soon be obsolete. You think that the era of mages being high up on the hierarchical pyramid has long passed! Fools! Our magic is bestowed by a Divinity! It is you who would be obsolete!" Harold's voice thundered.

As he spoke his final word, the ground around him and his group began to crack, eventually giving way to a miniature island. This island then detached from the ground and rose, lifting the group of mages into the air.

Complex, indecipherable arcane incantations filled the air as over twenty mages chanted various spells. Their words wielded power as they summoned the forces from around them. They poured black-purple ink onto the ground. The ink seemed to come alive under their chants and writhed like living creatures, weaving around the mages to form intricate, interlocking magical arrays.

Under the shadow of the floating island, Charles and his allies wore grave expressions. They were clearly aware that the mages were preparing an ultimate move.

Various kinds of attacks were hurtled toward the floating island in a desperate attempt to intercept the mages from completing their attack.

Two giant bats, each clutching one of Anna's tentacles, swooped close to the island. Anna had taken control of Charles' vampire crew.

As soon as they neared the massive dome, Anna pointed a tentacle at one of the mages. Suddenly, the mage inside the dome ceased his chanting. Like a ferocious beast, he lunged at the mage next to him and tore into the latter's face.

Woosh!

Harold lowered his staff, and a strong gaze abruptly swept the vampires away as if they were mere leaves in a storm.

Just then, a sudden, hauntingly beautiful melody pierced through the howling wind to reach everyone's ears. Some of the mages began to swell, their skin bloating unnaturally as moss crept over the backs of their hands.

Screeeeech!

A sharp, piercing sound instantly cut through the chaos and counteracted against 134's song.

As Anna landed on her feet, Charles turned toward Margaret with his brows furrowed. "What's Julio's backup plan? Don't tell me he just sent you here on a suicide mission?"

Those mages appeared hard to deal with. If it came down to a battle of attrition, many lives would be sacrificed.

As the eerie glow from the floating island intensified, the shadows of everyone around began to stir. They started to detach from their owners and converged toward the island.

With a stoic expression, Julio emerged from the corpulent folds of "King." He walked up to Charles' side and looked up at the floating island with his arms crossed.

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