Captain – Chapter 603 – Hatred and Responsibility

“We can’t let it escape.”

Amid the towering waves, the girl’s quiet words echoed.

These tsunamis were indeed terrifying, even surpassing what nature could unleash—beyond the realm of natural disasters, approaching the true divine punishment depicted in sacred texts.

But if this tsunami was that world-ending flood, then the Goddess Hestia was undoubtedly Noah’s Ark, possessing the power to avoid or even resist divine punishment.

So despite the thunderous roar of the tide and waves crashing like collapsing mountain ranges, they ultimately only struck the pale golden curtain above the warship.

Then shattered to pieces.

At most they could make the giant ship sway, unable to pose a greater threat. But the key to the problem wasn’t this.

Rather, it was the constantly shifting sea surface and the surges that struck the Goddess Hestia’s hull.

They would all interfere with the accuracy of guns and cannons.

More troublesome were the giant waves continuously surging outward from the specter’s severed, sinking head as their center, which would block most of the bullets and cannon fire.

If they became more violent, perhaps no cannonballs could reach the giant serpent at all.

At this rate, it might truly escape with its life.

But Roy wouldn’t allow it.

“Bang, bang, bang…”

The extinguished devil’s eyes blazed again. The multiple giant waves surging toward them, though not severed, were forcibly pierced through with successive explosions.

Carving out a path toward the specter.

Reαⅾ οn KаtRеaⅾіոɡСαfe

“Adjust trajectories, fire at will!”

The next moment, the girl’s clear shout echoed throughout the giant ship.

At this point, with even cannon accuracy disrupted, they could no longer pursue the coverage and killing power of volleys—they had to fire whenever there was a chance to hit.

With the order given, the previously orderly cannon thunder immediately became chaotic. Though hitting was extremely difficult, considerable cannonballs still poured down on the specter.

The eternal being was now on its last breath—any cannonball could be the final straw that broke it. But…

After enduring nearly a hundred more cannon strikes, it still hadn’t fallen and perished as everyone hoped.

Instead…

“Splash!” Brilliant golden blood shot skyward, falling as scattered fire rain.

The “Hydra” had lost another head.

Whether tsunamis, surges, whirlpools, or the sea rising and falling like a curtain—all became even more violent as a result. In the distance, one could even faintly see tornadoes connecting heaven and sea, and lightning thicker than the giant serpent itself.

The scale and frequency of the giant waves continued intensifying. Even though the girl was fully channeling the magical power within her body, piercing through them had become incredibly laborious.

Not to mention the accuracy of heavy cannons—firearms had long since become useless.

But despite the changed situation, despite the specter now having a natural protective wall, it still showed no intention of retreating or breaking the chains to flee.

Instead, it bit off a third serpent head.

Through the increasingly thick water screen, the captain watched the giant serpent whose white flames were dying out, watched the central head slowly lifting up with its jaw full of “its own” blood, dangerously narrowing her eyes—because the other was also looking at her.

The giant serpent’s main head’s pupil light was already very dim, but still steady and indifferent, as if using actions and gaze to tell the girl of its determination.

Rеаԁ οո КαtRеαԁіոɡСafе

Telling her the price it was willing to pay, and the terrible consequences that would follow its death—this could be seen from the reefs in the nearby waters that had been shattered and submerged.

No one knew how far this tsunami would spread, and if the “Hydra” truly died, whether it would trigger that flood capable of swallowing all civilization.

Roy didn’t know either, hadn’t even considered this.

She only wanted it to pay with its life.

The light in Roy’s pupils gradually died out, and the holes in the giant waves were immediately filled by those following, as if someone had drawn heavy curtains, completely blocking the specter’s form.

But this didn’t mean giving up.

Calming her somewhat rapid breathing, the captain turned her head slightly to look at the Siren who was also standing at the side rail, gazing at the specter in the distance, making a serious request.

“Sing.”

Hearing this, the sea maiden’s eyes, somewhat dim due to the skylight and tsunami shadows, trembled, not immediately agreeing. Her gaze remained fixed on the nearby sea surface.

She knew Roy’s intention.

The reason the devil’s great power could no longer suppress the sea, why even shattering giant waves had become difficult, was because these changes had already departed from natural laws.

Even from the rules that created and maintained this world.

Those specters that arose naturally between sea and sky, appearing earliest, were originally part of this world—fragments naturally extracted from the rules.

Unlike gods, who were merely various forms of incarnation.

And this was why their extinction would trigger boundless calamity.

Rеαd οո KаtRеadіոgСаfе

With rules incomplete, the world would naturally collapse.

It was precisely for this reason that the gods had to take measures to petrify them forever, then use the most powerful force of time to make their bodies and souls wither, reintegrating those “accidentally” detached fragments back to their original places.

But… that method had been completely lost since the Ancient Auran Calendar, with no one knowing it.

No, perhaps the Lady knew.

But with the situation urgent, how could they find and notify her?

Roy’s plan was to use her song to communicate with the entire sea, using its own immense power to temporarily resist the collapse of the rules.

And use this brief time to eliminate that specter.

But the consequences…

Thinking this, the difficulty on the sea maiden’s face completely disappeared, gradually becoming firm and calm. She turned around, looking at the confused Roy, shaking her head apologetically.

“No, we can’t kill it.”

Seeing this, the captain’s eyes filled with bewilderment, involuntarily pressing her lips together.

But even with ten thousand incomprehensions in her heart, she didn’t disappointedly voice questions or force the other to do anything, only silently watching the Siren.

Wanting an explanation, an answer.

But before the sea maiden could speak, a cat’s call rang out first.

“Meow.”

The cat said they could kill it.

Reaԁ οn KatRеаⅾiոgСаfе

Feeling the indifference in the Siamese cat’s call, the Siren’s face paled slightly, but contrary to her usual nature, she was adamant. She frowned tightly and glared at it: “We cannot.”

Sensing the sea maiden’s insistence and the threat hidden beneath her words—that there might never again be soft embraces—the cat flicked its tail in displeasure but ultimately didn’t speak again.

Having dealt with the cat, the Siren looked back at the captain. After meeting her gaze, she cast her eyes down to the sea: “Captain Roy, you should also be able to feel it…”

“The sea is in pain, crying out, warning us that it cannot stop all that.”

Even if they could forcibly suppress the storm here, it couldn’t possibly contain the flood that would immediately follow, one that would swallow everything—even though it was a sea that could embrace all spirits.

“And that would kill… even destroy countless lives. I cannot watch this happen.”

“I’m sorry, I cannot.”

After hearing the explanation, the confusion in Roy’s heart gradually cleared. After a moment of silence, she nodded with some difficulty.

She agreed.

If she insisted on killing the “Hydra” now, it would inevitably trigger that flood. Even if not as terrible as in mythology, presumably all coastal areas except the interior would be affected, possibly directly submerged.

That would truly kill many, many people. Just like when her ancestor released calamity, millions of lives would perish, with the Southern Islands bearing the brunt.

So the Siren was right—she couldn’t kill that serpent, at least not before finding the right method.

Taking a deep breath, Roy looked toward the distance, at the giant serpent hidden behind the waves. After a long silence, she gripped the ship’s rail tightly and gave the order expressionlessly.

“Everyone listen, cease fire, retract the tether chains…”

“Let it go.”