Lord: Starting with Biological Modification

Chapter 257: Chapter 252: The Deep Sea’s Hunting Game

Tristan took the parchment, scanned it quickly, and passed the letter to Barrett beside him.

The letter made its way around the long table, and the only sound in the council hall was the faint rustle of parchment.

Each person’s expression changed as they read.

When the letter reached Ola, the Dwarf Baron’s breathing grew noticeably heavier.

After reading it, he, for once, didn’t roar about smashing someone’s skull. Instead, he placed the letter on the table, his stout fingers twisting his beard as he sank into thought.

"In my father’s library, there’s a book called *Annals of the King Under the Mountain*."

"It contains an ancient clan rule: ’Contend not with the sea, nor build a port beside the abyss.’"

"I always thought it was a warning about storms and tsunamis. It seems now this ancestral wisdom was warning about... these things."

"Deep-Sea Scoundrels," Barrett repeated the term from the letter. "It doesn’t sound like the name of a race. It’s more like a nickname sailors would give a band of pirates."

"But for them to make Lady Caroline of the Golden Sail Commerce Association this nervous, they must be more difficult to deal with than we imagined."

Velin turned to Barrett.

"Your mission is to shift the defensive focus at the Minas Tirith Port construction site away from land-based infiltration and entirely onto the coastline."

"I need the heavy ballista emplacements moved forward onto the new breakwater. Install alchemical searchlights atop every tower. I want the sea around the port illuminated even at night."

"Also, have your garrison set up hidden posts every fifty paces along the coast. They’ll be two-man teams equipped with signal rockets. If any activity is spotted on the water, they are to raise the alarm immediately."

Barrett straightened his back and answered crisply, "Understood."

Finally, Velin looked to Tristan.

"Public morale is in your hands."

"I’ll handle it," Tristan nodded. "I’ll issue a curfew for the port district under the pretext of ’precautions against the seasonal migration of large marine Magical Beasts.’ At the same time, I’ll increase the bonus for the night patrol by thirty percent to recruit more people."

"No, Tristan." Velin shook his head, rejecting the proposal. "We’ll be honest with them."

He saw the confusion in Tristan’s eyes and patiently explained to the council’s newest member.

"One lie just requires more lies to cover it up. You should have more faith in the people of the Grey Marsh Territory; they’ve been through things far more dangerous than this. We just need to tell them the truth and let them know that we’re working to solve the problem. The foundation of the Grey Marsh Territory is its people. We can’t afford to lose their trust."

Tristan was taken aback for a moment, then nodded solemnly, his eyes filled with admiration. "I understand, my lord. You’re right. Trust is more important than anything."

The meeting concluded, and everyone departed to carry out their orders.

Only Velin remained in the council hall.

He returned to his study and closed the door. His face showed no sign of frustration; on the contrary, it burned with soaring ambition.

The appearance of the Deep-Sea Scoundrels didn’t feel like a troublesome problem to him. Instead, it opened a brand new door.

A glimmer of excitement shone in Velin’s eyes.

’I’ve completely overlooked the sea! This past year of focusing on land-based enterprises almost made me forget what a rich treasury of Extraordinary life lies beneath this blue expanse!’

He walked toward the massive bookshelf that covered one wall of his study.

It was neatly lined with the many books he had collected over the past year.

Nautical charts, bestiaries, and chronicles of strange phenomena—each one acquired at great expense from places like the Royal Capital, various academies, and commerce associations.

He needed inspiration.

He needed a new biological template to take his first step toward mastering the ocean.

Velin pulled out a thick volume: the *Deep Sea Magical Beast Record*.

The pages flew through his fingers, each one detailing mysterious and powerful marine creatures.

His finger traced over dangerous sea regions marked with phrases like "Sea Monster Infested" and "Eye of the Storm."

Giant sea serpents, deep-sea jellyfish, whale-like Magical Beasts...

Each creature made his heart race, his mind flooding with countless possibilities for modification and cultivation.

His finger suddenly stopped on an illustration.

It depicted a gigantic hermit crab carrying a coral cluster the size of a castle.

’If I could find a similar creature and combine it with the symbiotic technology of the Multi-Armed Race...’

His mind began to race.

The biodiversity of the ocean far surpassed that of the land.

Pressure adaptation, underwater respiration, sonar location, electrical sense...

These were all abilities that land creatures couldn’t hope to match.

Just then...

BANG!

A magical signal flare shot whistling into the sky and exploded, its brilliant light tearing through the night over Minas Tirith.

It came from the direction of the port.

Velin strode to his study’s balcony.

He grabbed the brass telescope hanging on the wall and looked toward the port.

At night, the port should have been brightly lit and orderly.

But now, it was plunged into chaos.

Several massive columns of water erupted from the sea without warning.

They traced parabolic arcs through the air like great dragons, heading for a clear target: the construction site.

That target was the giant crane that hundreds of artisans had just painstakingly hoisted halfway into position.

Through his telescope, Velin could clearly see the heavy steel structure begin to twist and deform under the violent impact of the water columns.

The massive crane arm let out a screeching metallic groan that set one’s teeth on edge.

Spiderweb cracks appeared on its support base as countless rivets and gears shot out like shrapnel.

BOOM—

Amid a chorus of shocked cries, the most important steel structure in the Minas Tirith Port district came crashing down, smashing onto the pier’s foundation and kicking up a cloud of dust and smoke.

Barrett’s garrison had already arrived, their crossbows aimed nervously at the sea.

But the surface of the sea was already calm again.

There was nothing but the wreckage of the collapsed crane.

The enemy had not even shown themselves.

Velin lowered the telescope.

On the balcony, the sea breeze tousled his black hair, carrying with it the sounds of chaos from the construction site and the screams of the people.

Yet, his heart was exceptionally calm.

The enemy’s retaliation—or rather, their second round of probing—had begun.

’Don’t attack, just destroy.’

’Guerrilla tactics?’

Velin murmured to himself, the light from the distant fires reflecting in his wine-red eyes.

In the days that followed, the harassment continued unabated.

The next night, the Multi-Armed Race attempted to infiltrate the coastline and abduct the patrolling sentries.

The hidden posts Barrett had arranged beforehand proved effective.

A signal rocket cut through the night sky. The garrison arrived swiftly and drove back the intruders with a volley from their ballistae.

On the third day, they attacked a transport convoy.

Three cargo ships fully laden with construction materials were capsized by a mysterious force, resulting in heavy losses.

On the fourth day, the port’s water supply pipes inexplicably ruptured.

As workers made repairs, they discovered the break in the steel pipe was unnaturally clean, clearly severed by some sharp instrument.

Every attack was sudden and ended cleanly.

The Multi-Armed Race were like Ghosts in the sea, coming and going without a trace.

But Velin knew this game wouldn’t last much longer.

The real test was yet to come.

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