In brutal naval battles where ships were the basic operational units, the defeated forces mostly faced complete annihilation.

If the Warship in the advantageous upwind position could not overpower the enemy, it could easily escape by "sailing into the wind."

The downwind Warship, however, caught in hundreds of meters of turbulent currents, could hardly keep up in pursuit. The distance would only grow wider until its crew could only watch helplessly as the enemy’s silhouette receded.

Similarly, if the downwind Warship was overpowered by the opponent, it had no means of escape.

Everyone knew that with the mainmast shattered and no chance of quick repair, the Thirteen Braves had no way to escape.

WHOO WHOO WHOO...

The mournful wails of the Organ continued unceasingly. One in every twenty shells exploded thunderously, tossing men and horses about on deck amidst billowing smoke.

The casualty rate among the crew quickly exceeded 60%.

Moreover, the outstanding anti-sinking capability of wooden sailing ships was only effective against Solid Bullets; they stood no chance against Shrapnel Shells.

Even Byron dared to boldly assert that, fast-forwarding several decades or even a century, when Shrapnel Shells became prevalent, it would mark the end of the era for pure wooden Sail Battleships.

"For His Majesty the King, fight to the last drop of blood! Return fire, return fire!"

Under Pizarro’s command, the sailors nailed the royal banner of the Kingdom of Castilia, dominated by a golden castle, to the foremast, signifying their resolve to sink with the ship.

Such courage and determination indeed warranted a second look.

The Kingdom of Castilia was not a populous nation in the Old Continent, but the number of Transcendents there far surpassed that of other countries.

Aside from having a head start and a massive supply of resources, it clearly had its own system for cultivating and restraining homegrown Transcendents and Adventurers. Its control over Direct Lineage Transcendents and Adventurers far exceeded that of other countries.

These people, having acquired large amounts of Spices and resources for promotion, most likely also signed harsh indentured servitude contracts with the Royal Family.

The series of formidable enemies Byron had encountered—like "Conqueror" Cortes, "Infinite Evolver" Balboa, "Double-faced Person" Smith Brothers, and "Plunderer" Pizarro—likely all fell under this scenario.

Seeing their resolve, Byron offered no courtesies.

"Raise the blood flag!"

On the Golden Deer, a crimson flag symbolizing pirates’ ruthless plundering—leaving no one alive—ascended the mainmast.

The Thirteen Braves was not a mere merchant ship but an Adventurer ship, a colonizing ship, and a Privateer Ship funded by the Royal Family.

Since they were not commoners, they certainly couldn’t hope for Byron to show mercy.

Leveraging its maneuverability, the Golden Deer singled out the enemy’s blind spots. Under the blessing of "Katyusha," it unleashed countless shells upon them like a raging storm.

The Warship engagement had progressed to this stage; it was now akin to a slaughter.

The destruction of the enemy Warship was just a matter of time.

With victory within grasp, Byron continued the bombardment, unhurried and calm, with no intention of grappling and boarding to harvest Wealth.

Compared to the uncertain treasures aboard, he felt the lives of his crew were more valuable.

The only regret is that my Spirituality is just a bit short of the Fourth Order limit, and I haven’t met the prerequisites to hold the Fourth Order Promotion Ceremony for ’Fleet Commander.’

I couldn’t maximize the benefits of this battle.

The series of Promotion Ceremonies for a Storm Knight assessed: personal combat ability in boarding and melee; piracy tactics against vulnerable targets; comprehensive qualities in treasure hunting; and command skills over a plundering Fleet.

At the Fourth Order, one must offer up a formidable enemy in a fierce, large-scale naval battle, sacrificing them to prove one’s mastery over Pirate Fleet command.

The Promotion Ceremonies of the Ladder of Glory are akin to professional qualification exams, except the examiners are not living beings but the Silver Law, or even the core rules of the world itself.

However, today’s Thirteen Braves is just the beginning; the real show is still to come.

Speaking of large-scale plundering operations, aside from turning on Fourth Order Pirate Warlords, the most suitable targets are the Treasure Fleets of the People of Castilia.

Just thinking about a Fleet with the title of a legion, carrying treasures, is enough to make one’s blood boil.

As he was lost in thought...

BOOM—!!!

Accompanied by a thunderous roar, the Warship’s gunpowder magazine violently exploded. A massive fireball soared into the sky, sending countless splinters of wood, Cannons, and bodies hurtling hundreds of meters into the air.

On the waters of the Southern Continent’s Stormy Ocean, Human creation burst forth with a display of fireworks so grand it was unprecedented.

"Incredible! Even the self-destruction of a Fourth Order Child of the Sun couldn’t generate such a fearsome effect.

Although these pale-skinned outsiders are not as strong as us individually, they clearly have their own merits."

Prince Atahualpa, who witnessed all this from the Sky, was greatly shocked. He gazed at the enormous fireball, mesmerized.

As a Child of the Sun whose opening move was also "BOOM, BOOM, BOOM," he was deeply attracted to those thunderous and dazzling weapons on the two outsider sailboats.

Compared to that anticlimactic gun ambush at the Hot Spring City of Cahamaca, this was the right way to wage a ’War of Kings.’

Byron had opened the door to a new world for the Prince with a spectacular naval battle involving booming Cannons—a door that could never again be closed.

Turning to look at the Golden Deer, he muttered to himself:

It is recorded in the Empire that to the north of the Circulation Zone, we have kinfolk of the same origin.

This northern kinsman, who appears so ’kind’—a truly ’explosive’ sort of kindness—should be easy to talk to.

Didn’t he just say that the Tenor People do not deceive the Quechua People, and that they came to the Southern Continent specifically to help their indigenous brothers?

According to messages from the Four Great Suyu of the Empire, these pale-skinned villains are appearing in greater numbers and becoming bolder, causing immense destruction and having a very negative impact.

Since this kinsman’s homeland also suffers harassment from these outsiders, we share a common enemy and are naturally friends on the same front.

I wonder if exchanging a shipload of Gold for one of those thunderous weapons is enough?

If not, what if I add another shipload?

The Prince, his eyes shining at the sight of the Cannons, was completely unaware that he had just invented such a crazily morbid unit of measurement for Gold.

Suddenly, his golden eyes scanned the tumultuous sea surface.

BOOM!

From beneath the waves came another explosion. A white water spout, like a soaring water Dragon, shot a tortoiseshell larger than a man into the sky.

It was the Ammonite, Little Snail, long lying in ambush beneath the water, that detected something attempting to escape and immediately lashed out with its tentacles, sending it flying.

As a large-species Sea Monster with a Challenge Level equivalent to that of a Battleship, it was not an entity that an individual Transcendent of the Ladder of Glory Sequence could confront head-on.

At the peak of its flight, a figure involuntarily fell out of the tortoiseshell.

It was none other than the "Plunderer," Pizarro.

By this time, not only was his body charred, but few of the Treasure Elves that had guarded him remained. Only the "Tortoiseshell Jewelry Box," with its supreme defensive power, was intact.

"Don’t think you can escape!"

The moment Atahualpa saw the mastermind who wanted to capture him trying to flee, he didn’t hesitate to unleash his Sun Spirit Light, transforming into a five-meter-tall, glittering golden Child of the Sun.

The circles of light at his feet exploded, as if a dazzling miniature sun had burst open in the sky, and he charged forward, wielding the golden Camel Head Knife.

Meanwhile, on the Golden Deer, Byron called out in a low voice, "Tide Chant of a Thousand Echoes!"

A beam of water light in his hand transformed into a five-meter-long Big Spear.

The great cloak behind him billowed like a thick, gathering storm cloud, carrying wind, rain, and lightning as he surged upwards.

One from above, one from below, the two men reached Pizarro almost simultaneously.

One swung his knife to slash!

One lunged with his spear to Thrust!

Pizarro, already battered and disoriented after being sent flying by Little Snail, struggled to lift his arms and a Miracle Swift Sword, assuming the defensive stance of "Supreme Art."

BOOM!

Amidst the storm, lightning danced wildly, and a miniature sun burst open in the sky.

The violent turbulence broke through the cumulonimbus clouds above, and a golden beam of light suddenly illuminated the two tall figures who alone remained on the field.

They had similar muscular builds, the same bronze skin, and short black hair.

The high winds howled, making their clothes flap and rustle.

The two men silently exchanged glances, hearty smiles appearing on their faces simultaneously. The camaraderie forged by fighting side by side was far more solid than a thousand words.

Any Painter present would have to exclaim, "What a magnificent depiction of indigenous heroes united against colonial invaders!"

On the deck of the Golden Deer, Violet, who majored in painting and sculpture Art design, reflexively pulled out a Memory Crystal and set up her easel.

Using Alchemy, she quickly completed a sketch of them.

She depicted Byron with particular precision, flawlessly.

"My Byron is the handsomest in the world!"

She had a premonition that the painting documenting this historic event would definitely be... very valuable in the future!

「On the other side.」

「On a small island at the edge of the volcanic archipelago.」

"Crisis averted!"

With these words from the Captain, the Naturalist Charles, the sailors finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Then they heard him continue to announce, "Compared to Holy Mr. Byron, we are indeed unsuited to be Pioneers. Scientific research is our forte on the *Little Hound*.

I’ve decided to stay on this island to study the Species of various islands and to distill the groundbreaking laws of biological Evolution.

For the great cause of science, for the progress of all Humankind, I will not leave until I make a major discovery sufficient to advance to Fourth Order Naturalist!"

His disheveled face sparkled with the radiant glow of Human Nature and grand aspirations.

However, his thoughts were immediately punctured by Mr. ’No’ Louis, whose body and face bore the imprint of Charles’s large footprints.

"No, no, no! It’s not about ideals at all; it’s simply because we’re afraid of dying.

Being afraid to die isn’t shameful. What’s wrong with saying it outright?"

Charles’s old face flushed red. He grabbed his old buddy’s neck, shaking him back and forth in exasperation, "Louis, shut your mouth!

How unreliable are the rewards of adventuring? I support the *Little Hound* from top to bottom with research funds I diligently apply for from the York Family!

And you! You haven’t skimped on your share of the eating! Spit it all out!"

The contrarian, Mr. ’No’, was evidently stubborn even in the face of death, his words sharp.

"No, no, no! That’s slander! I only ’stole’ the eighteen thousand pounds for ’pig feed’ listed in your grant application. You embezzled the rest yourself!

Your research yields no results anyway. What about those anti-molestation stockings for women, the duck-foot gun that can attack in four directions, glasses with windshield wipers, feed that stops pigs from getting fat... I’m just helping you cut your losses promptly!"

His crew members wore similar expressions, clearly not believing their usually off-kilter Captain could make any epoch-making great discovery.

Charles, infuriated by his own crew, veins throbbing on his temples, could only stiffen his neck and argue, "This... can a Naturalist’s scientific endeavor be called stealing?

That’s rationalized expenditure! If we don’t spend all of this quarter’s budget, how can we apply for the next quarter?"

What followed was a series of incomprehensible terms like "balancing the accounts" and "results conversion rate."

Looking at his crew of obtuse blockheads, he felt a pang of loneliness; no one understood his genius ideas.

Just then, Byron, who had been silently listening, suddenly spoke up, "Mr. Charles, I actually think your research has great potential.

On behalf of the Pioneer Guiding Colonial Trading Company, I’d like to extend an invitation. Are you currently in need of a sponsor?"

Upon hearing this, Charles’s gaze lit up like a Whale Oil Lamp, and he gripped Byron’s hand excitedly, "You truly have an eye for talent!"