Chapter 135: Handle Perishable Cargo with Care

Knee-length shorts for mobility, a tiny body practically swallowed by baggy pirate clothes, a rough chop-job haircut that clearly gave zero thought to fashion. A scrap of bandage stuck to his cheek with something sticky, and a face overflowing with unearned confidence. The kind of kid who blindly believes there's nothing he can't do — a concentrated mass of little shithead, just begging to be flicked in the forehead — standing there all puffed up and looking down on us.

Incredible. I literally cannot think of any description for him other than "little shithead." Seriously? Compared to this kid, that walking menace was just a regular villain… This isn't even a little shithead, this is just a little shit.

Stude: “Hah! Thought maybe you got scared and ran off, but looks like you actually came, shorty girl!”

Rust: “…Little shithead. Still got no defining traits besides your big mouth.”

Stude: “What'd you say?!”

Just like when I banter with Emul, Rust spat venom right back at the little shithead… Stude, was it? In response to his provocations. Damn, his total lack of provocation resistance is also top-tier little-shithead material.

Stude: “String bean's still as wimpy as ever!”

Mold: “Hahaha… I'm a liberal arts type, so…”

Stude: “I dunno what 'liberal arts' is supposed to mean, but eat more meat!”

That's more a matter of the player's soul, kid. And no matter how much meat you eat in-game, it all just tastes like thin jerky anyway.

Stude kept running his mouth at Rust and Mold with that truly insolent attitude, but when he turned toward me, about to say something… he averted his eyes.

Sunraku: “Why are you looking away?”

Stude: “Urk…”

Stude's gaze darted around like a sardine fleeing a predator, and even when our eyes met, he'd look away again within seconds. Looking around, I realized it wasn't just Stude — even the other pirate NPCs were doing their best not to make eye contact with me.

Sunraku: “Hmm…?”

I had way too many guesses as to why. But did it really have this much of an effect, that even pirates — outlaws by definition — would so blatantly avoid meeting my eyes? As if handling something fragile… no, more like cautiously extending food into the cage of a sleeping lion, Stude addressed me.

Stude: “Y-You there… l-let's hear your name!”

Sunraku: “Sunraku. I'm here to back up these two. My special skill is cracking Lycagon's jaw.”

Stude: “I-Is… is that so! Yeah, th-that's, uh, pretty hardcore! I-If you work for me, I'll give you an appropriate… r-re… re…”

Sunraku: “Reward?”

Stude: “Yeah! I'll pay you a re-ward!”

Feeling a bit mischievous, I'd stared him down hard while casually mentioning that rather violent special skill. Not only did my gaze crit Stude, but the other NPCs also started murmuring nervously, cold sweat beading on their faces.

Sunraku: “I mean, outlaw bravado and the guts to not fear recklessness, that's one thing…”

Emul: “Testing your courage and suicide are two different things, wa… fugyun?!”

At my muttered words, the scarf fairy piped up with some nonsense, so I masked it with a cough while delivering a flick to roughly where her head would be. The scarf's fur trembled, but surely that was just static electricity.

Sunraku: “Let's get down to business right away. I've heard the gist from these two, but… I want to hear the explanation from the client himself.”

Stude: “R-Right… I want you guys to board my… I mean, our ship, and go wreck that 'ghost ship'!”

Sunraku: “Ghost ship?”

Stude: “Yeah, a ghost ship… the Crying Innsman. It's the bastard that killed my papa… I mean, my old man…!”

[Unique Scenario — "Strike the Apostle of the Abyss" | Begin? Yes / No]

Papa, huh? That's an awfully cute way to put it… I thought, but as I listened to Stude's explanation, delivered in words thick with anger and grief, it largely matched what Rust and the others had told me.

The ghost ship Crying Innsman — a cursed demon vessel that appeared alongside storms and dragged living sailors down into the depths. Once a pirate ship both brutally cruel and fiercely courageous, it was now crewed by the ship's former sailors, transformed into grotesque monsters that served as minions of the Ruler of the Deep, sailing through the sea under full canvas.

Stude's father, when they once encountered the Crying Innsman, had boarded the ghost ship alone, holding off the monsters while his crew and ship escaped. With no hope of survival, his only son Stude could only truly stand as the new captain once he sank the ghost ship that had taken his father's life… That was the gist of the scenario story.

Sunraku: “I see… So these monsters on the Crying Innsman — what exactly are they like?”

???: “W-Well, they're… too horrifying to even describe, monsters like rotten fish and human corpses all mashed together into some awful mess…”

Sunraku: “So just rotten fish paste… Anyway, I should expect something like fish-men, right?”

Departure was in one hour. At Stude's command, the pirates scrambled to prepare for launch, loading weapons and provisions onto a sailing ship — not quite as massive as that giant vessel in the harbor, but plenty huge in its own right. As I watched, I asked a pirate who looked like Mob A about the monsters' characteristics.

Since they were so openly terrified of me, I'd left contact with Stude to Rust and Mold.

Sunraku: “Still, this Lycagon’s Contusion has way more effect than I expected…”

Emul: “Of course it does, wa. The Vorpal Soul radiating from Sunraku-san's entire body gives off an intimidating presence like it'd slice up anyone who gets close, wa.”

Sunraku: “What am I, a sharpened knife or something…?”

If it's this strong, isn't it going to make NPC conversations seriously difficult? Even Stude — an NPC who practically embodies the concept of "little shithead" — ended up meeker than a borrowed cat. I'd almost rather they just laugh at me for being half-naked.

Maybe because monsters are a natural part of this world, or because our target was a supernatural ghost ship, the weapons being loaded onto the sailing ship were clearly not designed for anti-personnel use.

Sunraku: “So it's a ghost ship we're up against… Not a kraken or something, right?”

When you think of pirate ship armaments, cannons are the standard. But what they were loading onto the ship weren't cannons — they were giant crossbows called ballistae. Maybe gunpowder didn't exist? Though you'd think magic could handle that. Ah, but maybe guns don't exist because magic can't handle it. On a meta level, it's probably to give Legacy Weapons their unique advantage as the only "gun" category.

Sunraku: “Shipboard combat, huh…”

Emul: “This is my first time riding on a ship, wa!”

Sunraku: “…Well, you're always getting physically flung around anyway, so I doubt you'll get seasick.”

Emul: “?”

Combat on a ship is never straightforward. Throw in a storm on top of that, and it's no exaggeration to say it's like fighting in the middle of a constant earthquake. Your vision shakes, your footing tangles, and with your entire center of gravity being tossed around with the deck, any weapon that relies on pinpoint accuracy gets severely handicapped. Fortunately, I, Sunraku, don't possess any attack methods that require sniping skills, so I won't be hit that hard — but even so, I'll need countermeasures.

Sunraku: “Securing footing… recast management… grasping the sway routine… friendly and enemy AI behavior patterns…”

Emul: “Sometimes Sunraku-san says things harder than magic spells, wa…”

Sunraku: “It's more logic than magic, actually… Hm?”

Shangri-La Frontier has super-civilization mechs and all, but its foundation is built on fantasy — magic, myth, and the like. So if you go looking for bizarre sights you'd never see in reality, you can find as many as you want.

For instance — the sight of a bunch of buff dudes whose entire existence screams "WE ARE MANUAL LABOR" hauling a ridiculously huge barrel like a portable shrine right toward us.

Sunraku: “The hell is that… an octopus pot? Don't tell me we're seriously facing a kraken…”

No, wait. That barrel was about the size where cramming in three people would already make it overflow. It was way too small to hold a kraken — which in most games is designed as a colossal octopus or squid that sinks ships effortlessly. Surely SLF's kraken wouldn't be no bigger than a real-life giant squid.

Actually, the more fundamental question was whether a barrel could even substitute for a pot in the first place… As I was pondering this, the buff dudes didn't load the barrel onto the ship. Instead, they stopped right in front of me, set the barrel down, and tipped it on its side.

Emul: “Kyaa!”

Akitsu Akane: “Waaa!”

Ceecrue: “Gwuh!”

Red Whale Pirate: “Oi, oi, oi! The Red Whale Pirates' specialty 'Barrel Delivery' — job's all done!”

Red Whale Pirate: “Oi, scary-lookin' big bro over there! These're your pals, yeah? Brought 'em safe and sound!”

Sunraku: “Huh? Wha? Ahh… nnh?”

The buff dudes went off laughing heartily… No, that's not the point. What mattered right now wasn't them — it was the bunch that had just tumbled out of the barrel.

Psyger-0: “Wh-What in the world…? Huh, Hizu… ahem! Sunraku…san?”

Akitsu Akane: “I got to experience what laundry feels like… Oh? Where are we?!”

Ceecrue: “H-Hey… Akitsu… Aka… ne…dono… you're… crushing…?!”

A knight player, whose armor still resembled a rusted, crumbling lump of earth because her debuff hadn't worn off yet. A fox-masked ninja player — the only one besides me permitted to cross the threshold of the Rabbit Palace after bulldozing straight through three areas. And a white mantle, currently being crushed by said ninja and letting out muffled yelps in real time.

Sunraku: “Uh, why…?”

The two-plus-one who had faced Lycagon with me just a few hours ago, plus me and Emul — three people and two rabbits in total — could only stare at each other in utter confusion, none of us having the faintest clue what was going on.

[If some guy radiating enough intimidation to look like he's got seven scars on his chest goes and says some shit like "My special skill is half-killing Godzilla!", yeah, no wonder everyone backs the hell off.]