Ch.232232. Voyage (2)

Typically, when people in this world think of orcs, the image that comes to mind is that of nomadic raiders.

They ride large wolf beasts called wargs, murdering innocent villagers and feasting on their flesh and meat—utterly vicious creatures… which, in reality, isn’t far from the truth about their kind.

And since nomadic peoples and the sea are generally considered incompatible, inland dwellers might dismiss the notion of orcs and the sea as nonsensical nonsense… but.

At least along the southern coasts of the Western Continent, anyone native to the region or involved in maritime affairs knows the infamous reputation of orc pirates.

The Sharkbite Clan. These lawless sea rovers proudly fly flags depicting shark teeth, as their name suggests, and boast one of the largest and most powerful pirate fleets on the seas.

Without any particular base, they simply wander and plunder everything in sight.

At first glance, they might appear like a band of beggars, making it easy to doubt their strength, but many sailors have lost their lives due to such misconceptions.

The fact that they’ve survived for decades while openly engaging in piracy in coastal waters is testament to these pirates’ formidable power.

And for that reason, I watched the approaching orc vessel in the distance with wary eyes.

Their ships, derisively called “junk ships,” including those approaching from the distance now, have a tattered appearance from being recklessly operated and haphazardly modified after being captured.

Following the orcs’ age-old belief that bigger and louder means better, the vessels are covered with steel spikes and stakes. To showcase their malevolence and ferocity, they’ve impaled severed heads on skewers like some macabre candy.

Additionally, they use rotting corpses or skeletons as decorative figureheads, and the exterior of their ships is covered with traces of sloppy patchwork visible to anyone.

In truth, they look no better than rafts that could sink at any moment, but many sailors who let their guard down at such appearances have long since become nothing more than ornaments on those very ships.

The vessels created by sea orc shamans using perverted druid magic are deceptively sturdy despite their appearance, and the firepower from their massive cannons cannot be ignored.

Particularly fond of all things big and loud, orc pirates wield hand-held cannons comparable to regular ship artillery, and when enemies approach, they either load them with gravel or swing them as melee weapons.

There’s even a cannon at the center of the ship so large that firing it would seem to sink the vessel—operated by an orc shaman, if I recall correctly… its accuracy is formidable due to being guided by foresight.

…Of course, considering the instability of orc technology, one might question how much of that potential they can actually realize.

Anyway, as I recalled my knowledge of orcs while watching their approach, panic and confusion predictably spread among the crew who had spotted pirates targeting us.

“Weapons! Bring the weapons!”

“Get the weapons out! Load the fuel! Enemy approaching!”

The veteran sailors on deck shouted orders, urging crew members to arm themselves for close-quarters combat.

Meanwhile, those who were clearly non-combatants headed below deck, and magical cannons throughout the ship were being charged with condensed magical energy.

“May I help?”

“No, that won’t be necessary! We request that you, as our guest, please take shelter below deck!”

When I asked the elven sailor who had introduced himself as the deck master earlier, he insisted that I, as a passenger, had no need to participate in the battle and requested that I evacuate.

And this response was enough to fill me with admiration for them.

The deck master, being a high-ranking crew member, surely knew of my superior status.

Despite knowing that my participation would ensure a battle without losses, he rejected my offer out of professional conscience.

They remembered that I had contracted to be on the ship as a passenger beyond mere accompaniment, and regardless of my individual power, they were determined to honor that contract.

One might think this is simply the natural thing to do, but remember that the world is full of those who cannot even manage such simple matters.

And therefore…

“Deck master. I commend your firm resolve.”

“…W-what?”

The deck master, who had been watching me anxiously as I remained despite his evacuation order, looked at me with uncertainty at my praise, unsure how to respond…

[…Blow, North Wind.]

Instead of answering the deck master with words, I began to chant magic like a song.

[Sing of wrath, O great nature, the wrath of the green monsters, children of the three-headed beast!]

The foundation of my incantation came from traces of my past life lingering in my memory. I began chanting like a song, based on several verses from the ancient Greek poet Homer’s epic, the Iliad.

[Aaaah~.]

As Sophia, noticing my incantation, added melody from behind to compensate for my insufficient celestial magic aptitude, I continued my chant while feeling the elven sailors staring blankly at me.

[That which has brought countless sufferings to innocent people, and sent the souls of numerous heroes beyond the veil of death!]

Rhythm, tempo, pitch, and lyrics—all merged into one, singing of completeness and incompleteness, and now the sea responded to our incantation, beginning to roar.

【UOOOOOOOOOO─!!!】

Even the Sahagin, known for their courage and fearlessness, and the elves, often mocked for their pride and arrogance, were reminded of their mortality by that roar, which carried the power of nature itself.

The sky sang, the sea roared, and mortals suffered between them as screams and wails of agony permeated the air.

And now… the incantation directed its hatred toward the enemy.

[Those accursed things that made themselves food for beasts and cursed monsters! Those who defiled and insulted the sea, who must surely perish!]

Resentment and rage, curses and screams—this festival of malice and despair connected sea and sky, and the united dimensions now turned toward the orcs’ vessels.

[North Wind, O Sea, sing of your fury!]

And here, a verse of the epic concluded.

The sea foam, the waves, the storm—the sea itself churned and formed the shape of a massive wave.

And that wave took the form of a 【God】.

A youth embodying vitality and passion. A woman with a benevolent and loving smile. An old fisherman with wisdom and experience in his eyes, then momentarily transforming into the image of a splashing child.

The living sea. Nature with will. The terror and ruler of the sea, both tyrant and sage.

This being, armed with a trident made of water droplets and wearing a toga of sea foam, swung the three-pronged spear with sweeping force—

【I have received your call well, son of Circe.】

With the voice of a 【God】, the willful sea instantly swallowed the orcs’ crude junk ships, and moments later, a few wooden fragments presumed to be their remains floated to the surface.

‘This is… not what I intended?’

And I, watching this scene from the deck, could only offer an awkward smile at the magic that had produced an effect completely different from what I had originally aimed for.

※ ※ ※

In truth, I had never intended to summon the manifestation of the sea god Neptune.

I had simply felt something and, thinking it might work, chanted parts of the Iliad that came to mind. Originally, my incantation should have merely created a waterspout to shatter those ships to pieces.

“G-Gregory! You were really amazing today!”

“…Thank you, Sophie. I don’t think I could have done it without you.”

But contrary to my intentions, even Sophia believed I had done this deliberately, leaving me in an awkward and ambiguous position as I vaguely deflected while recalling what had just happened.

‘Those guys…’

The Sahagin, who from birth are servants of Neptune and thus natural worshippers of him as an entire race, had suddenly bowed their heads to me respectfully—and that was just the beginning.

The elves who made their living from the sea and held faith in the sea god also changed their attitude toward me.

Where before they had treated me with the politeness of service industry workers, now there was something religious or devotional in their manner.

‘…Hahaha.’

After laughing uncontrollably at these bewildering circumstances that made me want to give up thinking altogether, I soon felt the ship approaching somewhere and prepared to disembark.

After nearly a year, we were returning to the Desert of Death.