Captain – Chapter 744 – Right and Wrong (Part Three)

“No one but myself can determine my fate.”

These were the devil’s words after blades crossed once more and the two clashed and separated.

This exchange differed little from the previous one.

The same violently attacking wind, snow, and lightning flashes, the young woman “miraculously” breaking through, and under various factors, the violent blade clash where advantages and disadvantages barely balanced out.

If there was any difference, it was that in this confrontation, Roy found an extremely tricky angle and “sent” the black blade through. Unfortunately, facing a devil extremely vigilant toward this dark dagger, she only claimed some fabric.

And the price the young woman paid was merely two scorch marks on her cloak.

“Having the ability to make choices is what it means to grasp fate, but today you have no choice.”

“Except to face me!”

With her clear shout, Roy halted her retreating momentum and surged forward again.

But what astonished her, even made her somewhat exasperated, was that the mountain-like magnificent figure in the wind and snow actually began to retreat swiftly, opening distance between them.

Although the opponent was unwilling to expose his back to her and faced her while retreating backward.

The devil’s retreat speed was still extremely fast. An ordinary person, even at full pursuit, couldn’t possibly touch the hem of his clothes. Even Roy found it laborious to chase.

A perfectly good passionate death battle had turned into a chase after only two blade clashes. Even more shameless was that the one fleeing was the one who had set the trap and arranged the scheme.

The purpose was clear: to delay time.

And stranger than this conduct was that no matter how the two chased and fled, how far they traveled from where the battle began, that moon-in-water-like starry sky followed firmly.

That wisp of faint light continued its slow descent, falling toward the devil.

“Have you no shame!”

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Finally, the two met for the third time, blades crossing.

The devil’s curved blade slashed horizontally, “severing” the attack path of that dagger full of death energy, but the exposed opening took a solid strike from the Iskavian curved blade. Thus the magnificent cloak tore, drawing first blood in this battle.

Brilliant golden divine blood flowed down through the torn clothing, yet on the devil’s face, forget pain—there wasn’t even a trace of concern. He summoned wind and snow to temporarily block the young woman and began to retreat.

Such injuries that would be shocking and potentially fatal to mortals were nothing to the devil. Given enough time, they could easily heal.

After forcing back the young woman and fleeing for some time, that gruesome wound had already stopped bleeding. Looking through the torn captain’s coat, even the scar was very faint.

And facing his descendant’s furious question, the devil only smiled wickedly, not taking it seriously.

“Being a pirate means using any means necessary. Don’t tell me you expect me to surrender just like that?”

That flippant voice reached her ears, angering Roy so much she nearly ground her silver teeth to dust. What made her even more frustrated was that this truly was the pirate code of conduct.

Now coming from the mouth of the pirate progenitor himself, it was even more orthodox.

However, the young woman also knew why he was fleeing despite his great power being like the sea, overwhelming her, his physique and combat skills not the slightest bit inferior, and even with her ability to generally perceive his attacks, she could only slightly suppress him.

It could only be because of that black blade.

For existences like them whose great power approached divinity, whose bodies had reached perfection and could be called eternal, unless it was a death battle with absolutely no retreat or thought of withdrawal, it was very difficult to force the opponent into a desperate situation or even directly terminate them.

Their bodies were too strong. Although they couldn’t match specters like the Hydra, they wouldn’t care much about ordinary bleeding or injuries either. Their self-healing ability was truly terrifying.

But the problem was that Roy held the Nethergate Dagger.

That was the Death Goddess’s creation, the blade that could break all curses and sever eternity.

What could threaten gods could naturally also kill devils.

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Therefore, not considering external factors, if Edward couldn’t find a good enough opportunity to seize the blade from Roy’s hands, this battle would ultimately tilt toward the young woman.

So he could only retreat.

Even after detecting that Roy could rather smoothly break through the net woven from wind, snow, and lightning, he didn’t concentrate his great power, all for the purpose of temporarily impeding her pursuit.

In such an important fated battle, every breath was important—however base, it was worth it.

Using every means without exception—this was pirates.

The chase continued.

The number of times the two came face to face also increased one by one as time passed, and in this process, the young woman and devil were constantly injured and bleeding continuously.

Brilliant golden blood fell in flurries, and upon landing on the ice plain began to burn silently.

Thus amid the blizzard, an intermittent path of fire appeared.

At the end of the fire path were the two who met again and again in desperate combat.

After the young woman’s relentless pursuit, the devil’s emperor-like luxurious cloak had long been tattered, exposing wounds and a similarly severely damaged yellowed undershirt.

Even more striking was that the wounds on his arms, shoulders, and many other non-fatal places had not healed but dried up, with faint black energy escaping from them.

That was undoubtedly the death intent of the Nethergate Dagger, clinging to the wounds like a festering bone. If the man hadn’t mobilized part of his great power to suppress it, he would have been eroded long ago.

In comparison, Roy’s situation was much better.

Although similarly wounded, with multiple scars from lightning serpent bites on her body requiring some mental effort and invoking authority to expel the devil’s power lurking within them like hidden dangers, overall she was fine aside from some fatigue and slightly dimmed eyes.

It seemed that whether First Mate Isaac, the Lady, or her father—their views were all correct. To defeat and kill the devil, the black blade was key.

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If this chase could continue indefinitely, endlessly, there would eventually come a moment when the increasingly weakened devil, no longer able to suppress the death intent, would meet defeat and death.

Unfortunately, time would not allow it.

Presumably the devil had calculated this point as well—no, it should be said that as early as deciding to use Gerard as bait to force away the Siamese cat, when the black blade would inevitably fall into Roy’s hands, he had already considered this battle tactic. He just hadn’t expected to use it so soon.

But there was no help for it. Divine calculator though he was, how could he have imagined the young woman could understand him so well—understand the flow of his great power, understand his habitual techniques.

Habits were sometimes advantages, sometimes the greatest flaw, because they were very difficult to change.

Or rather, once abandoned, defeat would come even faster.

That’s why there was this chase and flight.

But even adopting such shameless, base tactics, having fled until now, Edward was already nearing his limit, completely at a disadvantage when facing the young woman’s offensive.

Of course, he had tried using deceptive surprise attacks to seize that black blade.

Once the divine artifact changed hands, this death battle would be equivalent to directly declaring its end.

But how easy was that?

Not to mention the young woman was also a figure who had stepped before the other shore and deeply understood the black blade’s importance, being quite guarded against him. Even at considerable cost, she wouldn’t let him take it.

So the surprise attacks all failed. Even making the young woman suffer significant injuries was of no use.

Thus it had reached the current situation.

Watching the young woman approach like a ghost, the devil knew that after withdrawing some great power due to his injuries and under the suddenly increased pressure from the nearby sea, the gradually weakening wind, snow, and lightning could no longer obstruct her for even a moment. He was nearly at his rope’s end.

Even if still powerful, facing these three people again, suppressing the present world fleet, and constantly guarding against the incoming black blade, he was already appearing increasingly stretched thin.

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But likewise, Roy didn’t have much time left.

Because that wisp of ethereal starlight was near, very near—less than two meters from him.

This meant the deity’s departure’s influence was nearly dissipated. When the starlight descended upon him, divine status born and divine authority in hand, the situation would completely reverse.

Therefore, he decided to take a risk, resolved to stake everything and gamble this one throw with the young woman.

He would release his suppression of that fleet, would withstand the counterattack from those two in the nearby sea, pour out all his great power, exhaust all his strength, and in a desperate state strike her back one more time.

Presumably thus, time would be enough.

A devil of such caliber, once his thought fell, would absolutely have no hesitation or misgivings. His eyes, much dimmer than before the battle, suddenly regained their brightness.

The wind, snow, and lightning scattered in all directions, shrouding the entire nearby sky, all gathered over, surging toward the young woman only a few meters from him. At the same time, the strange curved blade in his hand, carrying unimaginable force, was raised high and slashed down.

But what made the devil’s heartstrings tremble, giving rise to another tremor when he had been fully confident, was that facing this move, Roy’s eyes remained calm despite clearly knowing his intention.

Those eyes were so beautiful, so bright—clearly radiating brilliance yet peaceful as the sea.

Without any ripples, not even a wave. If one had to say what emotion existed…

It would be that trace of cunning amid the endless seriousness and solemnity.

Fox-like cunning, as if the earlier chase and flight, as if everything done…

Was all to force him to this, to force him to make this strike!

Now, she had finally waited for it.

As if she had waited a thousand years.