Lord: Starting with Biological Modification Chapter 43 - 39: The Sinking of the Strong Alcohol

Tarry Port, which should have been at its most bustling, was now terrifyingly quiet.

Caroline stood at the main berths of the Third Fleet, the sea breeze blowing through her long hair. Behind her was the chief alchemist, Valerius.

Velin stood slightly behind her, clad in a hooded cloak and a black mask that left only his wine-red eyes visible.

His gaze passed over the crowd, falling upon the flagship moored in the center of the berths.

The *Strong Alcohol*.

This three-deck warship was like a floating mountain, casting a shadow large enough to cover nearly half the docks. The roaring lion figurehead at its bow was so exquisitely carved that every strand of its mane seed real, the wood itself shimring with a deep luster from its magical enchantnt.

Her captain, a stout, middle-aged man, was wiping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief. He had been a sailor on the *Strong Alcohol* in his youth and had once polished this proud lion with his own hands.

But now, as he looked at the massive vessel, a chill inexplicably crept into his heart.

"She’s still here." Caroline’s voice held a note of relief she herself hadn’t even noticed.

As long as the flagship remained, the fleet’s backbone was intact. There was still a chance to salvage the situation.

"Master Valerius," she said, turning her head as her expression regained so composure. "Please, co with . We need to see for ourselves just how much trouble these little things have caused."

Just as she was about to take a step, a series of grating groans filled the air.

It began with faint popping sounds, which grew louder and louder, like soone beating a great drum against the ship’s hull.

It was the *Strong Alcohol*.

The middle-aged captain’s face turned deathly pale. He murmured, his voice trembling, "No... that’s not the sound of wood groaning... It’s the keel. The sound of the keel snapping!"

Everyone froze. Sailors, foren, rchants—all of them instinctively looked up at the massive ship.

The massive vessel began to list... impossibly, its bow and stern bent upward as its middle caved in. The angle of its list grew steeper at a visible rate, and from below the waterline ca the incessant CRACKLE of tearing wood fibers.

"No..." Caroline’s lips moved, but no sound ca out. Her mind went blank, her ears filled with nothing but a high-pitched ringing.

As if in answer to her denial, the main mast of the *Strong Alcohol*—the one inscribed with the "Wind’s Blessing" Rune—snapped in half.

The Golden Sail Comrce Association flag hanging from it plumted with the broken mast, hitting the water like a worthless rag and sending up a trendous white wave.

The thunderous crash was the spark that ignited the panic.

Screams, sobs, and curses erupted across the port.

Velin subconsciously adjusted the bridge of his nose. ’Using Extraordinary-grade materials without any consideration for pest control against Extraordinary creatures,’ he couldn’t help but think. ’Their technology tree is seriously skewed.’

The cold spray from the massive wave splashed across Caroline’s face, making her flinch. An uncontrollable tremor ran through her body.

Before everyone’s eyes, the hull of the *Strong Alcohol*—the sturdy hull built from enchanted Dragonbone Wood—split in two down the middle like waterlogged cardboard.

Seawater rushed in madly. The roaring lion figurehead reared up one last ti before plunging headfirst into the bottomless depths, leaving behind only a massive whirlpool.

A symbol of an era, the brutal proof of the Golden Sail Comrce Association’s dominance over the Duchy’s southern coast, had just taken its final, humiliating bow right before their eyes.

Caroline stood frozen to the spot.

Panic spread like a plague.

...

The atmosphere in the Golden Sail Comrce Association’s Tarry Port headquarters was as oppressive as a tomb.

The eting hall was packed, the long conference table surrounded by people, yet no one spoke. Beyond the window lay the chaotic docks; within, a deathly silence reigned.

A portly senior deacon slamd a thick report onto the table with a BANG. His eyes were red as he roared, "Your Excellency, the Vice President! We’re finished! Utterly finished! It’s not just the Third Fleet! Every single one of our ships in the port that’s been in the water—over five hundred of them! They could all be infested with shipworms now!"

"We’ve tried everything—fire, poison, Magic... We’ve thrown money at it like water, and all we’ve done is watch them rot even faster! These aren’t worms, they’re devils! Devils sent straight for the Golden Sail Comrce Association!"

Caroline sat at the head of the table, her face a blank mask. Her gaze shifted to the chief alchemist, who had been silent the entire ti.

"Master Valerius, what about the Alchemy Potions?"

The Master stood and produced a glass jar containing several live shipworms. "It’s no use... My alchemists studied them for three days and three nights, without rest! We tested forty-seven different repellent formulas. Only the Sea Monster Repellent, brewed with the priceless ink of a deep-sea kraken, had any effect... but the cost of production is astronomical. It would be high enough to build an entirely new fleet from scratch."

A captain spoke up, his voice dejected. It was less of a report and more of a complaint.

"The sailors tried sothing too. They dragged one of the least damaged courier ships into an inland freshwater river to soak it. And you know what? The shipworms did stop eating. They just... went to sleep. But less than an hour after we towed the ship back into the sea, they woke up and started chewing even more ferociously than before!"

The murmurs in the eting room grew louder, swelling into a chaotic mix of wails, complaints, and argunts as people tried to shift the bla.

Caroline listened in silence, letting the despair fester. It was only when one of the captains began cursing the association’s diviner that she finally spoke.

"Shut up."

Her voice wasn’t loud, but it silenced the entire room in an instant.

She slowly rose to her feet, her gaze sweeping over every face in the room. Her eyes held a murderous glint, as if she were ready to tear them all apart.

"Is crying going to help? Is complaining going to help? Are you telling how formidable they are because you want to get on my knees and surrender right now?" Her voice wasn’t loud, but every word struck a blow to their hearts. "The Golden Sail Comrce Association has not fallen. As long as I am standing here, it has not fallen."

The hard-nosed strength this queen showed in the face of desperation forcibly suppressed the wave of pessimism.

Then, her gaze fell upon Velin, who had not said a single word from beginning to end.

Velin was still in his head-to-toe garb. He sat near the corner of the room, sketching sothing on a piece of parchnt with a quill pen—a series of geotric symbols.

He had paid no mind to the preceding farce, viewing ninety percent of it as useless information.

Just as Velin finished his last stroke, he felt Caroline’s gaze upon him.

CLACK.

He placed the pen on the table.

In the dead-silent eting room, the crisp sound was like a clap of thunder.

Every eye in the room shifted from Caroline to Velin.

Velin looked up, eting Caroline’s eyes—eyes that held both a storm of emotion and a final glimr of hope—and asked calmly:

"Are you all done arguing? Because if you are, we can start talking about a solution."