"Touch of the Kraken?"
Byron returned to his senses and swallowed reflexively, still mulling over the na.
Blunt and to the point: the thing soaking in the jar before him was an incomplete tentacle of the Indescribable being known as the "Kraken."
As a forr chef with a penchant for tentacles, no one understood them better than Byron.
It is said that an octopus boasts three hearts and nine brains.
Setting aside the three hearts, its nine brains were distributed between its head and its eight tentacles. It possessed roughly 500 million neurons in total. The main brain accounted for 40%, with the remainder dispersed among the auxiliary brains. The auxiliary brains within an octopus’s tentacles function independently, without interfering with one another. Even when severed, the tentacles of an ordinary octopus can remain active for a period, capable of sensing their surroundings.
For an Indescribable being, this incomplete tentacle could be considered a lesser avatar of it.
Though still shrouded in layers of fog, Byron, at this mont, finally pinpointed the true form of the accomplice in his people’s genocide.
THUD!
The Law Mage nearest to Byron slamd his baton down and barked angrily, "Didn’t you hear? Get out! Go to the ship’s Executioner after the battle and receive your punishnt."
Simultaneously, a crushing pressure, like a mountain, bore down on him.
If one were to ask Transcendents which hostile profession they least wished to encounter, the answers might vary. However, "Law Mage" would undoubtedly be among the top three. Their greatest strength lay in "borrowing the tiger’s fierceness."
Every individual within the Kingdom governed by the Royal Iron Law was an extension of the legal system itself. The stricter their discipline, the more potent the Power of Law enveloping the area. This was especially true on a naval warship—which was considered sovereign territory—where military discipline could only be described as draconian. The power of the Iron Laws of Sovereignty was, therefore, incredibly potent.
In such a place, a single Law Mage, backed by the Law Network and issuing Decrees that far surpassed their intrinsic capabilities, could effortlessly crush an opponent of equal rank.
One might say the safest location in the entire fleet was not the Fleet Commander’s bridge, but this small cabin.
BOOM!
But the only response he received was the sound of a gunshot.
Staring at his chest, now riddled with holes, his companion collapsed into a pool of blood, eyes wide in death.
These Law Mages, each hailing from Great Noble families and holding esteed positions, gaped in disbelief. For a mont, they were unable to process the violent, bloody spectacle summarized by the phrase: "no matter how high the status, a single bullet brings them down."
"Ah—!"
"You despicable soldier! How dare you kill a noble baron of the Patridge family?!"
The battle-hardened Third Order Judge, Dudd Light, reacted quickest. Lowering his Shepherd Flute, he roared, "Decree: All firearms are forbidden in this area!"
Decree, a core ability of Second Order Law Mages: They could interpret articles from the Royal Iron Law on the spot to pass judgnt on specific actions. As long as it was within their jurisdiction, the Decree would take effect. In the hands of a Third Order Judge, this ability was further amplified. They gained a asure of discretionary power, no longer needing to recite legal articles; they could issue a Decree based on their own judgnt if they deed it reasonable and just. This single skill could spawn a repertoire of formidable tactics with no apparent drawbacks.
Another Law Mage swung his baton fiercely towards Byron’s head.
"Die!"
Humans are highly conformist, group-oriented creatures. When a leader remains composed and their side possesses superior numbers, a kind of positive feedback loop of mob courage is triggered. In such situations, regardless of the ferocity of the beast or the formidability of the enemy, human confidence soars towards positive infinity. This was true for Byron and the other Bayfolk when they faced the Calamity monts ago, and it was true for these Law Mages now confronting Byron.
"The Mad Hunt Legion must instill fear in the dying to achieve optimal results," Byron said, a hint of disappointnt in his voice. "Your continued resistance is making things quite difficult for !"
BOOM!
He raised his hand and casually blew a large hole in the man’s head.
A Decree issued by a Third Order Judge had absolutely no effect on him?!?
And this ti was different. It wasn’t just the effect of the Storm Sigil Ring, but also his third title, acquired after "Historical Reviser" and "Heartfelt Trouble"—"Outlaw Madman."
The false Outlaw Madman: lawless and reckless, with no regard for consequences.
The true Outlaw Madman: operating outside the Law Net, beyond the reach of penal codes.
When the Law Net descends, you are forever in its gaps.
From this mont on, not only can the Magna Carta of Hightins not pass judgnt upon you (only the King has that authority), but the laws of various nations rooted in The Holy Silver Empire and belonging to the sa continental legal system will also have their restrictive effects on you greatly diminished, no longer holding an overwhelming advantage.
Furthermore, criminal syndicates represent the ultimate form of the Outlaw Madman.
As a guiding beacon for these madn, you possess insight into legal statutes and can shield your crew with the "Pirate’s Ten Commandnts."
When confronting the Law Mages of Hightins, your team will cease to be your vulnerability.
Although it sowhat overlapped with the powers of the Seal Ring, it effectively granted his future team a specialized advantage against the Kingdom of Hightens under the York Family’s rule.
"Not bad," Byron mused aloud. "I quite like this na."
He looked up, a wicked smile playing on his lips as he faced the stunned Law Mages.
"I am the Outlaw Madman!"
The remaining Law Mages, panicking, couldn’t comprehend what was happening. Clinging to the principle that overwhelming power could overco anything, they began to loudly recite articles from the "Royal Iron Rule - Great Charter":
"King John of Hightins, ordained by Heaven. I extend my greetings to the Archbishop, bishops, abbots, earls, barons, judges, Forest Wardens, Executioners, prison wardens, bailiffs, their stewards and clerks, and to the loyal populace..."
The entire fleet’s Law Net thrumd in response, its power converging here, the silvery luminescence becoming almost palpable. Yet, they were invoking King John of the Displaced—the ancestor who had signed the Magna Carta two hundred years prior—to suppress Byron, the rightful heir to the throne.
"Decree: Whosoever employs firearms in this place shall reap what they sow!"
However, the Judge’s second Decree was still torn to shreds by a hail of steel balls.
The shotgun, firing spread after spread, tore countless holes—both headshots and chest wounds—in the Law Mages.
"Impossible!"
"Why? Why is this happening?"
They were on the verge of madness, almost believing they had succumbed to an illusion induced by that tentacle.
Mankind’s oldest and strongest emotion is fear, and the oldest and strongest kind of fear is fear of the unknown. Byron, inexplicably immune to all Decrees, was as terrifying as the Indescribable being in the jar.
By the ti they rembered the various defensive Miracles tucked away in their pockets—items they rarely, if ever, needed—and frantically fumbled to activate them, it was far too late. They were engulfed by the storm of steel balls.
Consud by such unknown terror before their deaths, the power they retained as new mbers of the Mad Hunt Legion was naturally more potent. Among them, the Third Order Judge suffered the most ignominious death. Outside this cabin, he was a figure virtually invincible among his peers. He would never have imagined eting his end so wretchedly, "capsizing in the gutter" at the hands of a re First Order Attendant. Even though the Miracle-imbued belt he wore, capable of deflecting crossbow bolts and stray bullets, automatically activated to shield him, it rely delayed the inevitable, costing Byron a single shot from his "Mourning Sonata."
You win so, you lose so. The power of a Law Mage originates from the most rigidly hierarchical laws; naturally, they possess no resistance against the very source of their strength. I still need to use a gun to kill them here. If King Edward IV were present, their performance would be even more pathetic.
In the span of a few short breaths, the hold was thoroughly drenched in a river of blood.
Behind Byron, led by the Spiritual Body of Judge Dudd Light, stood twenty Undead Servants of varying heights and builds. The legion’s ranks were already at capacity, compelling Byron to forgo claiming several of the less powerful Law Mages.
The octopus-engraved silver coin in Byron’s hand beca saturated with blood, the crimson hue making the creature upon it seem almost alive.
Moreover, the Blood of tamorphosis created by a Third Order Transcendent, if mixed into an "Angel’s Kiss" for the crew, could potentially cultivate four or five First Order Servants in one go.
Byron turned his head to find that only young Norwich remained, cowering in a corner where he had retreated at the outset of the violence.
The Navy Colonel’s voice trembled, "I am a direct lineage mber of the York Family; my father is the Fleet Commander—please, don’t kill ! Who sent you? The Bayfolk? What do you want—wealth, power, resources, knowledge... The York Family can give it all to you!"
But Byron rely pointed the gun slowly at his forehead, tauntingly saying, "Stop acting. The rescue talisman—a standard issue for royal kin—has been crushed, hasn’t it? Your father, old Norwich, should be arriving soon. Guess why I saved you for last?"
Footsteps thundered from above like a raging gale, accompanied by a frantic bellow:
"Villain, stop—!"
Young Norwich’s face, stripped of its earlier weakness and fear, contorted with malice as he ferociously lunged at Byron, cursing, "You Demon, I’ll be waiting for you in Hell..."
In the war-torn Great Nautical Age, the great families did not produce utter cowards. At the brink of death, his earlier display was rely an act, a desperate bid for a chance to survive.
BANG!
At point-blank range, the searing steel balls tore his entire head to shreds.
To offer hope, only to snatch it away with despair—at this mont, Byron was not just an Outlaw Madman; he was also the Child of the Devil, the infamous figure on the York Family’s most wanted list.
"Everything you once took from ," Byron vowed, his voice cold, "I will return, piece by piece!"
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