Chapter 163: The Phantom of Tottheim Displays Its Might

[Name: Boneless Beef]
[Type: Animal Tissue]
[Quality: Common]
[Function: A widely used ingredient, rich in protein]
[Property: Quality Enhanced]
[Remarks: Good beef makes the best steak, and the best steak is best enjoyed in its original flavor. Just sprinkle both sides evenly with pepper and salt to draw out the sweet juices of the meat.]
……
[Name: Devil's Dust]
[Type: Offensive Item]
[Quality: Superior]
[Function: The smoke after the explosion stimulates the mucous membranes of the eyes, nose, mouth, skin, and lungs, causing symptoms such as stinging and tearing eyes, sneezing, coughing, nausea, vomiting, chest tightness, dizziness, and skin burning pain.]
[Property: Quality Enhanced, Destructive Power Increased]
[Remarks: Also known as Farmer's Fart, the scent is strong and mighty!]
……
Late at night, with a fine snow falling, their leather armor and steel swords were entirely concealed beneath gray cloaks.
The three members of the Phantom Troupe returned to the hillside near the village, pulled out their spyglasses, and began their final observation before the attack.
Clutching the leather bag containing the Devil's Dust and surveying Trotheim through the lens, the rogue Vig shivering slightly with excitement. After all, an assault with such a disparate ratio of three against a hundred was something even he, battle-hardened as he was, had never experienced before.
The patrol schedule had long since been committed to memory. Soon, he would first eliminate the guard, infiltrate the longhouse directly, execute the sleeping pirates, and then, once discovered, unleash the "Devil's Dust" to cause absolute chaos—though of course, he must remember to put on his dog-shaped gas mask first.
As for Angouleme’s operational guidelines, they were broadly similar to Vig's, differing only in minor details. First of all, her mask was shaped like a cat's head... That's right, Catwoman was back in action.
Next was the fact that while some of the rogue's actions looked entirely natural with nothing seeming amiss, the young girl knew what the boy would care about.
"Vick, did you see that? I'm a little worried about that woman moving freely in the village. She couldn't possibly be Lis, right?"
Without Angouleme's reminder, Victor had already noticed that a woman was serving drinks and food to the patrolling guards on night watch, and the pirates were also getting handsy with her. However, she handled it very well, even smiling and appearing to enjoy it.
If that woman truly was Lis—Louv's childhood sweetheart—and the very target he had come to rescue, then the other party seemed to be living a life both fulfilling and meaningful, appearing to have very little need of his rescue.
This frustrating possibility made the boy's expression somewhat rigid.
Exhaling a long breath, "No matter what, there is no turning back once the bow is drawn. Even just to rescue the captives in the cells, this slaughter is imperative.
Heaven knows how many people will be sold off to who-knows-where after tomorrow. We cannot save everyone, but tonight, the victims in Trotheim belong to the Phantom Troupe."
Gazing into Victor's affirmative eyes and listening to his resolute command, Angouleme and Vig simultaneously touched their chests and nodded.
"Your will, Leader."
……
Separating from his two companions, Victor acted alone, swaggering directly toward the main gate of Trotheim. His task was to attract attention, making it easier for Angouleme and Vig to scale the wall and carry out covert operations.
Walking against the wind and snow to the village entrance, two guards approached Victor nonchalantly, and unexpectedly, the one on the left spoke up: "Ah, you're finally here. I don't know what's wrong with you, but in the islands, doing business means you can't keep the other party waiting."
His face was dirty, his beard unkempt, his headscarf stained a mottled red and yellow with blood and sweat. A dagger was tied to his chest, and a steel sword hung at his waist.
"Sorry, do I know you? I have no idea what business you're talking about," Victor responded calmly.
The guard waved a hand and cleared the path: "I'm fucking Dago, cut the mystery, we don't have time. The Nilfgaardian boy Will said he'd send someone to pick up the cargo today. Get inside, and remember not to start any trouble."
"Do I look like a Nilfgaardian to you?"
"What the fuck is wrong with you? Get in already! If you want to haggle, go talk to the manager yourself."
Victor shook his head, unable to refuse such hospitality: "Fine, I'm going in."
"That's more like it. Follow me, and no stupid stunts." Dago turned around, satisfied, and led the way, while the boy swaggered right into Trotheim.
Just as anticipated, the entire Trotheim had been converted into a prison. Observing through the wooden bars, the living conditions were not particularly good, but anyway, there were no human rights organizations around to correct it.
Along the way, fragmented conversations between buyers and guards could be vaguely heard.
"Can I test the merchandise first?"
"Too late, all these girls already have buyers."
"You don't say a word, I don't say a word..."
With a blank expression and a glance from the corner of his eye at the two conversing, Victor did not stop his stride.
"Fuck! It stinks to high heaven in the cargo hold."
"Can't help it, the trouble of a bumper harvest. We'll still have to clean up the excrement later, otherwise we won't even be able to stay in here ourselves."
Obscured by a stack of wooden barrels, the speakers of these two lines were out of sight. The boy stopped paying attention to the surrounding sounds; listening to more would only sour his mood. In short, he had no intention of leaving anyone alive this time.
Turning left and right, threading through the streets, Dago led Victor deep into the village to the tallest and sturdiest longhouse, knocked on the door, and entered.
The slave manager was berating a few pirates: "You call this top-tier cargo? Are you fucking kidding me? These wretches are nothing but skin and bones!
Now get them over to Cell Block One, feed them something decent, keep your hands to yourselves, and watch your whips—if a single one dies, I'll give each of you a lash!"
Submissively muttering their assent, three pirates dragged five emaciated young girls with their ankles bound together, stumbling out through the door, leaving only Victor, Dago, and the slave manager inside the room.
Approaching the slave manager, the boy remained calm and collected: "I heard you were expecting me. Is the cargo... alright?"
He tapped his cuirass: "A few of them were a bit agitated, but we still managed it without hurting them. These islanders are all tough guys, they're bound to be useful."
In the firelight, the breastplate this fellow wore was actually made of steel. Although not standard knighthood issue, it looked quite sturdy, and the two-handed warhammer on his back did not seem to be mere decoration. Victor subconsciously recalled how he had severed the arm of such a person in the dream cave.
"It's good no one was hurt. Will needs people who can be put to use immediately."
Drawing closer and seeing Victor's face clearly, the slave manager looked slightly perplexed: "Is it really Will who sent you? I thought whoever came would look a bit more like a Nilfgaardian."
The boy wore an impatient expression: "Otherwise what? I'm fucking here to do business, you think I'd paint the 'Black Sun' on my chest? What is it supposed to take to look like a Nilfgaardian?"
"Alright, alright, no need to be so hot-headed. I just think you're very well-groomed and look quite young. The cargo is all prepared, how do you plan to transport them?"
"I don't like hearing you refer to human beings as cargo."
"I couldn't care less whether you like it or not. Is the money ready?"
The cold wind scraped against the longhouse, and the ice and snow howled outside the window. Victor could feel that the human voices outside were becoming increasingly sparse.
"How many crowns? Will hopes his bulk purchase can secure an appropriate discount."
"Piss off, no discount! Eight hundred crowns, take it or leave it. Let me tell you, this batch of cargo is in high demand. If he doesn't want it, there are plenty of people eager to buy!"
Blinking, the boy pulled two plump money bags from his herbal pouch and casually tossed them onto the nearby table. The heavy thud drew Dago's gaze, causing him to step away from behind Victor and approach the money bags to count the sum of crowns.
Indifferent to his subordinate's greedy actions, the slave manager said, "Next is just the matter of transport. We'll bring them over and hand them to you; you'd better park your ship in the bay."
"No need, just give me the keys to the cells." Victor twisted his neck. The surface of those two bags of crowns had been dusted with medicinal powder. Judging by Dago's habit of biting the gold coins a couple of times to verify authenticity, he would likely be lying down very soon.
The manager looked somewhat puzzled by the boy's statement: "And then? Don't tell me you intend to drive them on foot? Just by yourself?"
"I don't care about anyone who stumbles halfway. Will only wants the strongest."
"Fine, take them. If they run away, don't come crying to me for money; they're your property."
The moment he handed over the keys, Dago's body suddenly swayed, and he pitched forward onto the table, sending crowns clattering all over the floor.
The slave manager was startled. As he turned his head to look, Victor's steel sword unceremoniously flashed from its scabbard, sliding smoothly and indifferently into his armpit from beneath, before the boy glided behind him and chopped off his entire arm.
He let out a piercing scream and dropped to his knees. Staring at the manager's back, Victor wore a half-smiling expression of twisted conflict, then picked up a towel from the back of a chair and handed it to him, letting him tightly clutch the gushing wound.
Next, he sidestepped two steps, sliced open the ankle of the unconscious Dago with a single stroke, pulled a garment over the wound to cover it, and strode straight out of the house, breathing in the cold, fresh air to calm his slightly agitated emotions.
The bottom line he had set for himself in this conflict with the pirates was "a single maimed limb," meaning at most he could only hack off one hand or one foot.
Yet even with psychological preparation, the moment he actually struck someone, the joy welling up from the depths of his soul almost made him wheel around and sever the slave manager's head. When he subsequently sliced through Dago's ankle, the impulse to drive his sword straight through his heart with a follow-up strike was equally throbbing and eager.
Pausing for a moment to compose himself, Victor realized that the slave manager's piercing screams had not attracted any guards. It seemed the pirates' alarm system had already been completely paralyzed.
Meanwhile, Vig and Angouleme's assassination operations were likely drawing to a close as well—which meant that Commander Victor's plan had been an overwhelming success!
The boy rubbed his chin with satisfaction. So this must be the so-called calm before the storm. Just as he thought of this, an explosion suddenly echoed from afar. Without a doubt, that signaled the end of the assassinations, and the Devil's Dust had begun to work its magic.
Victory in tonight's battle was now a certainty; the only question left was how long it would take to wrap everything up.
Donning his fox mask and lifting Prometheus, the boy rushed toward the battlefield.
……
As the horizon revealed a faint glimmer of dawn—having spent the entire night terrified by the explosions of bombs and the cries of battle in the dark snowstorm—the captives huddled in the corner watched as an elegant and extraordinary-looking boy approached.
"The slave traders are here, we have no hope left..."
"Wait! I recognize him, we're saved!
He is Victor the Bear-Smasher, the legendary Dovahkiin, he's a friend of Turgisch, King Bran must have sent him to rescue us!"
Hearing the conversation through the wooden bars, Victor smiled and unlocked the door with the key: "That's right, we are the Phantom Troupe, and I am the Dragonborn Victor Corleone, commissioned by King Bran to rescue you.
Don't be afraid, you are all free now. Following last night's battle, the pirates of Trotheim have been wiped out. However, I need your help to burn the corpses and clean up the environment to prevent an outbreak of ghouls or plague."
"O-One hundred and some pirates have all been wiped out?!" asked a captive, still shaken, upon hearing the unbelievable result.
Victor tilted his head and thought, "Well, strictly speaking, not quite. At least the pirate leader Hammond wasn't in the camp. We just interrogated the pirates about his whereabouts, and it turns out he took some of his men to pray on a nearby mountain.
Who would have thought, the fellow is even a pious believer in the gods.
But don't worry, once you are settled and your safety is ensured, my partners and I will pursue him. We won't let him escape!"
"Thank you, thank you so much. You'll live a long and prosperous life," a young woman said, her eyes brimming with tears.
A boy of roughly Victor's age wept tears of joy: "As expected of the great Dovahkiin, I will never forget your kindness!"
"That's right, that's right, we must let everyone know of your heroic deeds!" a healthy-looking woman nodded repeatedly with emotion.
Victor accepted the tearful expressions of gratitude with a smile, but he did not let it inflate his ego, because at the root of it all, his reason for coming here was a personal grudge, rather than justice. If Louv hadn't died from testing potions, the boy would never have come here at all.
After spending time unlocking all the cages, the three members of the Phantom Troupe assembled the rescued people to gather the pirates' corpses onto a bonfire outside the village for incineration. As for the leftover Devil's Dust, thanks to the snow drifting all night, most of the stench had been buried in the earth and would decompose naturally once spring arrived and warmed the land.
The only rather unfortunate thing was a certain pirate bunkhouse—the exact spot where the first charge of Devil's Dust had detonated. Even with the windows open for ventilation, the entire building remained permeated with a strong and mighty scent until the very end, leaving no choice but to burn the house down along with the corpses.
……
When all matters were finally dealt with, the Phantom Troupe led the captives to the village entrance to prepare them for departure. Victor suddenly thought: "Everyone! Do you happen to know a girl named Lis? She should be about eighteen years old, with flowing long hair, quite pretty, and used to be a resident of Seagull Village..."
After asking around, the crowd looked at each other in confusion, but none of them knew anything about Lis. Seeing that no information could be obtained, Victor shrugged and let them leave.
Footsteps sounded, and it was that girl from last night who had lived quite comfortably among the pirates, approaching to speak with Victor.
She was also a captive, though she had not been sold off simply because of her bright and charming eyes, and she now belonged among the rescued as well.
She whispered: "That Lis you mentioned, I know about her..."