Chapter 17

Chapter 17
## Chapter 17

### Chapter Title: Ghost Fleet Assault

—

The second the elderly man let his skepticism slip, every gaze in the room snapped back toward me. Well, would you look at that.

They were free to bicker amongst themselves as much as they liked, but I wasn’t about to let personal suspicions directed at me slide by with a grin. My retort was ice-cold.

“If your trust is that thin, then don’t task me with this. You’re more than welcome to turn around and head back exactly the way you came.”

That blunt, frosty comeback spurred the others to immediately turn on the old man who had opened his mouth.

“Damn it, Elder Jang, what kind of nonsense is that to say to someone who stepped up to help?”

“Seriously, knock it off.”

As the tension simmered down slightly, I stood up and addressed the group.

“The priority is rescuing any living survivors. We will focus on recovering the remains of those who didn’t make it only once the situation on the ground allows for it.”

I was in total agreement regarding the fallen. Saving those still breathing had to come before tending to the dead, plain and simple.

Once I laid out the hierarchy of objectives, the majority of the people gathered there nodded their heads in solemn approval.

“Yes, that is the only logical way to handle it.”

“We will move forward with that plan.”

With the verbal agreement reached, I made a quick adjustment to the contract and slid it over to them.

“I’ve just added the specific details we discussed.”

After they reviewed and confirmed the revised terms, I pushed back my chair and stood up.

“Then let’s get this moving immediately.”

“Please, we’re counting on you. We never imagined an outsider would actually show up for us.”

“I’m still carrying a debt from the last incident, so if we can’t get this boat into the water, those guys back home will practically skin me alive.”

One by one, they aired their private grievances and burdens to me. I nodded along while simultaneously getting in touch with the Busan Coast Guard. The vessel had already arrived.

It was a P-class patrol boat. I had no issues with that. For a team of just two people, bringing in anything larger would have been an inefficient waste of resources.

The moment we stepped onto the deck, the engines hummed to life, and the boat began its trek toward Tsushima Island. Watching the waves churn behind us, I struck up a conversation with Han Sang-ah.

“Now that I think about it, you didn’t utter a single word while we were back there with those people.”

Han Sang-ah gave a small nod.

“I didn’t.”

“Was there a reason for the silence?”

Han Sang-ah looked out at the horizon.

“Not particularly. They weren’t in a state to listen to anything I had to say anyway.”

“Man, you’re a cold one. They were all sharing such heart-wrenching stories.”

At my comment, Han Sang-ah shifted her focus toward me.

“It’s not like you seemed particularly moved by their plight either.”

She was sharp; she caught onto the subtle things quickly. Even if we managed to locate survivors, I was fully prepared to leave them behind if the environment made a rescue impossible.

That was precisely why the contract was drafted that way—it served as our safety net. Only the two of us were going to set foot on Tsushima Island. The Coast Guard vessel was strictly for transport; they would drop us off and retreat immediately.

What we chose to prioritize once we were on that island was entirely our call.

“There’s no reason to stress over it.”

“Does it truly matter in the end?”

“It provides us with the justification that we made a genuine effort to fulfill the agreement.”

This wasn’t an assignment handed down by a government agency or a massive corporation. Unlike our time on Gyo-dong Island, there was no centralized command post because we weren’t operating under a company banner.

“By the way, it looks like your technical skills have sharpened a bit.”

Hearing that, Han Sang-ah glanced down at her blade. Her fingers tightened around the hilt.

“Only a little?”

She sounded a bit miffed by the assessment. However, by my internal metrics, “a little” was being generous. To be honest, it felt like she was starting to veer down a path that didn’t suit her.

“Han Sang-ah, don’t go trying to master the art of the long-term engagement.”

“What are you trying to say?”

Her eyes locked onto mine, searching for an explanation.

“It looks like you watched me in combat and got it into your head that a war of attrition is the way to go, but that style doesn’t fit your kit.”

Han Sang-ah was built for explosive, high-intensity bursts. Grinding through an exchange for hours or days, the way I did, wasn’t her forte.

“Your focus should be on taking the enemy’s head in a single, decisive heartbeat.”

The primary advantage of manipulating electricity was its sheer, terrifying velocity. Striking like lightning wasn’t just a poetic metaphor; it was a physical reality.

“And if that initial strike fails?”

I dragged my thumb across my own throat in a grim gesture.

“It means the opponent is better than you. It’s game over. A prolonged struggle will end with the same result if they’re superior anyway.”

The only real variable was how long it took to actually die—a distinction that didn’t matter much in the long run.

“Set your sights on ending every fight in thirty seconds or less, no matter who you’re up against.”

“…I’m starting to wonder if I should even be taking your advice.”

Back in the other world, legendary knights who had achieved great deeds would have queued up for miles just to hear a single piece of feedback from me.

If she wanted to throw away the fortune that had landed in her lap, I wasn’t going to stop her.

“But fighting at maximum output every single time would be…”

“Who told you to go all-out every time?”

I had never suggested she dump all her energy into every minor skirmish.

“To end a fight quickly without squandering your reserves, you need a perfect analysis of the situation. That rule applies to attrition just as much as it does to speed.”

Short battles required you to judge if you could land the kill right now. Attrition required you to judge if you could outlast them. Both paths demanded a deep understanding of the enemy.

“…”

Having processed my words, Han Sang-ah drifted into deep thought. A long silence followed, and I assumed it would stay that way for the rest of the trip.

“Ghost ships, huh? Sure, why not.”

As the fog grew dense and heavy, dark, threatening shapes began to materialize in the distance. No fisherman in their right mind would have willingly tried to dock at Tsushima.

That meant they had to have been taken while still out on the water. It proved the enemy was capable of maritime operations.

“I was honestly worried it might be something like a Kraken.”

Compared to a gargantuan sea monster, a fleet of spectral ships felt almost manageable. At least these things wouldn’t drag us beneath the surface.

The hulls were caked in thick moss and clusters of barnacles; shredded sails whipped in the wind, and splintered masts stood like jagged teeth. Eerie silhouettes paced the decks, and bloated, water-logged corpses shuffled about.

A sudden draft brought the overpowering scent of decaying flesh and fermented rot straight to us. It smelled like salmon left sitting on a counter for a month.

“Hey, do you really think the coast guard guys can handle this?”

I wasn’t feeling particularly bothered. Looking over at Han Sang-ah, she seemed unfazed as well—she definitely had nerves of steel.

But the crew? I glanced at the Coast Guard personnel and saw nothing but drained, pale faces. I wouldn’t have blamed them if they tried to turn the boat around right then and there.

Police officers weren’t trained to be monster slayers.

“There are five of them.”

Five ghost ships had moved to intercept us. There was no point in trying to sneak past them to reach Tsushima.

Without our intervention, this patrol boat would never see the Korean coast again. Every soul on board would be lost at sea.

And if they went down, we’d be stuck out here with no way back.

“We’re taking them all out right here.”

“Understood.”

These were entities spawned from a Rank 2 Erosion Core—they were bound to be significantly more powerful than the creatures we faced on Gyo-dong Island. But if we couldn’t handle this, we had no business looking toward the future.

Han Sang-ah was quick to offer a tactical suggestion.

“One of us stays behind to protect the vessel while the other boards and clears them out.”

“No, that’s not the play. Even if we both leave the deck, these people aren’t going to die.”

I wasn’t 100% certain, but it was a theory worth testing before I forced one of us into a permanent defensive role.

Han Sang-ah winced, staring at me with a look of disbelief.

“You’re not technically wrong, but… that sounds incredibly cold. Yes, these monsters usually kidnap before they kill, but things could go sideways in a second.”

I looked at her as if she were the one acting like a monster.

“What are you even talking about?”

Who said anything about abandoning them? What a wasteful, low-tier way of thinking—barely even worth the effort to correct.

Without another word, I dragged the tip of my spear across the deck, carving out a precise geometric design.

“What are you doing?”

“Just watch.”

It was the Talisman Drawing Method. To be specific, the Exorcism Talisman.

It was a technique I brought from that other world. While my physical stats had been reset, the vast library of knowledge in my head remained intact. I could still put it to use.

True to its definition, by following a rigid set of procedures to sketch complex arrays, one could manifest various protective enhancements based on the intent.

Most blessings were mediocre at best, but “protection” meant a literal shield against specific harms. It was incredibly effective for warding off certain types of threats.

“What is that supposed to be?”

“You’ll see in a second.”

I drew a large outer circle that housed two squares arranged in a star pattern.

Within the space where the squares overlapped, I added a smaller circle containing two more stars. My spear didn’t stop moving for a second, flowing through the intricate lines without a single hitch. The design on the deck became increasingly dense and complex.

The sheer volume of symbols required by the method was enough to make a spectator’s head spin. Han Sang-ah, who had been watching in silence, finally whispered,

“…The mana in the air is moving on its own.”

“It’s functioning like a waterwheel.”

The ambient mana flowed through the channels of the pattern according to the established laws, sparking the effect. Already, a soft, ethereal light was beginning to pulse from the deck’s surface.

At its core, it wasn’t any different from how I normally manipulated mana. It shared all the same benefits.

“Once it’s fully set, the effect is semi-permanent.”

It would hold until the physical marks were destroyed. I turned to one of the crew members.

“It likely won’t matter, but don’t go trying to scrub this off.”

Since it was etched directly into the wood of the deck, getting rid of it on purpose would be a chore anyway.

“Wh-what if those monsters break it? What do we do then?”

I gave him a flat look.

“They aren’t going to get close enough to the boat to try.”

If the technique were that flimsy, I wouldn’t have bothered committing it to memory. I turned back to the sea, watching the spectral legion as they bore down on us, their wails echoing through the mist.

If the laws from that world didn’t translate here, we were in trouble…

—Kah… hahaha!

Luckily, there was no issue. A localized, distorted screech—a horrific blend of a cat and a human scream—erupted as the approaching enemies suddenly jerked to a stop, their forms trembling.

“It’s working.”

“Where on earth did you learn how to do that?”

In response to Han Sang-ah’s genuine awe, I replied with a shrug.

“Learn it? I came up with it myself.”

That was a complete lie. I’d studied it in a realm she couldn’t even fathom. It was just like those stories where people take modern technology to a fantasy world to find success.

Doing it in reverse should work out just as well, right?

“The boat is safe. Let’s make our move.”

It was time to tear through these ghost bastards who thought they could sail their rotting rags into the 21st century.

Han Sang-ah’s feet began to hover slightly off the deck. Seeing she was ready, I spoke up.

“Hey, give me a lift. Otherwise, I’m swimming. You can handle the extra weight, right?”

I hadn’t mastered the art of running on water quite yet. She gave a sharp nod.

“I’ve got it. Get on, and hurry up.”

I vaulted onto her back. She immediately surged forward, gliding through the air on electromagnetic currents, carrying me toward the lead ghost ship.

“Hey, this is actually pretty comfortable.”

“I’m sure it is when you’re the one being carried. We’re almost there.”

I could see the target clearly now. Over her long hair as it whipped around in the ocean spray, the ghost ship loomed large.

“Shoulder—I’m using it as a stepping stone.”

“Go for it.”

With her okay, I planted a foot on her shoulder, pushed off, and landed squarely on the decaying wooden deck.

“Good grief, even that month-old mackerel wouldn’t smell this foul.”

The undead sailors charging toward me with corroded cutlasses showed no signs of intelligence or restraint in their rotting eyes.

They were nothing more than predators with rusted steel. Their heavy swings sent chunks of the brittle deck flying in every direction.

“That’s some serious power.”

In a test of raw strength, I could have beaten that massive bat-headed creature from Gyo-dong Island in an arm-wrestling match. These things were my size, and they were hitting just as hard!