The Witcher World: The Path to Domination Begins in Velen

Chapter 115 Fire Scorpion Siege Crossbow and Udvik Island (4000 words)

At sea, the Clark ship was sailing towards Skellige.

The sea breeze blew in from the stern, making the sails billow and taut, while waves crashed against the bow, and water droplets occasionally splashed onto the deck.

The sailors were busy with their own tasks; some were checking the mooring lines, others were tidying the sails, and the first mate stood by the helm, occasionally glancing ahead.

Ron stood at the bow of the ship, gazing at the gray-blue horizon, pondering the various matters that would arise upon arrival at the archipelago.

It's safer to make contact under the name of the Calradic Mercenary Group first. The Skelliges are hot-tempered, and if you directly state that you are a lord under Nilfgaard, you might start fighting before you even open your mouth.

Once they meet Kratz, they will explain their true identity and intentions and begin negotiations for trade cooperation. However, whether they can successfully persuade the other families is also a question, since the islands are governed by multiple families who jointly elect a leader.

Even the High King might not wield much real power; the position is more like that of a general leading troops into battle than a king. Furthermore, the various families aren't exactly harmonious. According to Erwin's intelligence analysis, the Clayit family holds a prominent position in the archipelago. They have close ties with the Turseker family on Little Skellige. The Clayit family guards Kael'thas Fortress, occupying the northern part of Greater Skellige, but this puts them at odds with the Drumon family, who control the southern part. Erwin's trade cooperation with the Clayit family would inevitably incur the Drumon family's hatred. Should he simply eliminate the Drumon family? Intervening in the archipelago as an outsider also carries unknown risks.

As Ron pondered the complex relationships and risks of the archipelago, a new system notification flashed in the upper right corner of his vision.

[Unlocking Navigation Specialization Skills]

[Sailors: Enhanced Boarding Combat Capabilities]

First Mate: Ship Survivability

[Captain: Sailing Speed ​​and Fleet Management]

Ship construction blueprints have been unlocked.

[Territory Shipyard Construction Unlocked]

Three new skill branches have appeared, and ship construction blueprints and territory dock construction permissions have also been unlocked. The dock seems to provide a bonus to ship construction speed.

Ron tapped his fingers lightly on the boat twice, carefully considering and evaluating the situation.

First of all, blueprints are not very useful. Shipbuilding technology in the Wizarding World is not much different from the models on the blueprints. It takes several years for a ship to go from keel drying to final launch. It would be better to spend money to buy ready-made warships instead.

But one thing caught his attention: the crossbow and its accompanying gunpowder shells.

Gunpowder—the problem is that gunpowder in the Wizarding World has always been unstable due to interference from chaotic magic. Henry and Berthold have been working on adjusting the formula, but they haven't yet produced reliable results.

Suddenly, a melodious female singing voice drifted from afar, very soft, floating from the sea, its notes broken by the wind. The sailors on deck heard it too, and some stopped what they were doing and listened carefully.

The first mate strode over to Ron and shouted a warning, "Sir, it's a siren! A winged monster that often appears near the Skellige Islands."

They would use their bodies as bait to lure men closer, and if any foolish sailors dared to approach, their faces would instantly transform into the mouths of fish filled with sharp teeth, tearing them to pieces and swallowing them whole.

Ron nodded, his expression unchanged.

"Standing troops line up, crossbowmen engage, spearmen and shieldmen protect the archers!!"

The order was given, and the soldiers moved at the same time. The spearmen and shieldmen stood in front, forming a defensive line, with spears protruding from the gaps in their shields, while the crossbowmen quickly nocked their crossbows from the rear.

The singing suddenly rose to a shrill, piercing pitch. Phosphorescent light appeared on the sea surface, and dozens of figures emerged from underwater, their wet wings unfurling as they swooped down toward the deck.

Their bodies glowed with a pale green light. Their upper bodies were those of human women, with soft and beautiful faces, and pale yellow eyes with vertical pupils.

But no soldier was distracted. The crossbows snapped open, and a dense barrage of bolts shot into the sky. Several sirens were instantly pierced and fell to the ground. A few skimmed across the sea and flipped onto the deck, but as soon as they tried to get close, their torsos were pierced by the shield guards' spears.

A siren abandoned the dense military formation and set its sights on Ron, who was standing at the bow of the ship. It bypassed the frontal formation, gliding silently along the shadows of the gun barrels, its sharp claws aimed at the back of Ron's neck.

Ron was still pondering the projectile crossbow when he sensed a change in the airflow behind him. Without turning around, he simply slapped the air.

boom!

Like a cannonball, the siren hurtled towards the sea dozens of meters away. The moment its body hit the water, it created a huge spray. As the water calmed down, the broken wreckage slowly floated to the surface. The remaining siren hovered in mid-air, looked at each other, and then turned around and disappeared beneath the surface of the sea.

The battle was over in less than a quarter of an hour. Bloodstains and broken wings remained on the deck, and two sailors had sustained minor injuries. Ron waved his hand and ordered the deck to be cleaned.

The first mate stepped forward, looked at the corpses on the sea, and frowned. "Sir, sirens usually live in groups of three to five, rarely in such a large group. This kind of situation usually occurs when there is enough prey nearby, such as a shipwrecked vessel."

Ron nodded, his gaze sweeping across the surrounding sea.

"Slow down and have the lookout scout the surrounding waters, keeping an eye out for any survivors."

Clark slowed down, and the sailors on the masts vigilantly observed their surroundings. After about fifteen minutes of sailing, the lookout suddenly blew a short whistle and pointed ahead, shouting.

"Port side! There's something floating on the sea!"

Ron walked to the ship's side and looked in the direction the lookout was pointing. He could vaguely see the huge ship tilting to one side next to the small island.

"Move closer and board the ship to search."

The merchant ship slowly approached. It was a Nilfgaardian warship, its hull severely damaged, and its deck covered with claw marks and dried blood.

Ron, along with Titus and several soldiers, boarded the half-sunken warship.

Everything on the deck slid to the left, and a section of the mast broke off. They searched all the way to the cargo hold, with Titus leading the way and Ron bending down to crawl into the cargo hold.

Inside the cargo hold, the wooden crates were neatly secured to the racks, most of them still intact. Titus used his dagger to cut open the seals, inspected the contents, and then turned to report to Ron.

"Sir, we have made a discovery. These appear to be ammunition and ballista accessories for warships' projectile crossbows."

The first mate leaned over for a look and immediately recognized the items.

"My lord, I've seen this thing before. It's used by the black dogs of Nilfgaard. It's called a Fire Scorpion Siege Ballista. It can set ships on fire. It's quite powerful."

Ron stepped forward, picked up the parts and examined them. "Move them all back to the ship, store them securely, and be careful to prevent moisture."

The soldiers began moving cargo crates and worked until the sun had completely sunk below the horizon.

The sea had completely calmed down, the wind was so weak that it was almost imperceptible, and the canvas hung limply, occasionally being stirred but quickly coming to rest again.

The regular soldiers took turns resting, while the sailors gathered under the mast and in the cabins, drinking rye and munching on hard bread. Apart from crossbow parts, all other drinks in the cargo hold were distributed by Ron's orders and became their accompaniments to meals.

Two guards sat beside the mooring post; Titus held a loaf of bread in his hand, while Cassius was polishing his two-handed greatsword with a whetstone.

Several sailors kept glancing in the direction of the two men. One of the younger sailors got up, walked over, and squatted down next to Titus.

"Aren't you tired of carrying that bow all the time?"

Titus glanced at him, said nothing, and continued breaking the bread.

Cassius replied, "The bow is Fiona's companion, a testament to the hero."

The young sailor hesitated for a moment. "Proof? But that thing is thicker than my arm, can you really pull it apart?"

Cassius put down his sword, picked up his longbow, and casually tugged at the string. The string stopped near his ear and then slowly returned to its original position.

"Oh my god..."

""

The old sailor with a full beard finally couldn't resist leaning over and asking in a low voice.

"During the day, that thing, sir... was it really not magic?"

The old sailor's eyes still held a lingering shock: "I've been sailing for over a decade, and this is the first time I've ever seen anyone slap a monster into the sea. How much strength must that take?"

Cassius thought for a moment, then said, "I don't know."

"You don't know?" The old sailor raised an eyebrow. "But aren't you the master's personal guards?"

Cassius glanced at the old sailor. "Because even monsters more ferocious than sirens haven't forced you to use your full strength, sir, you don't know..."

The old sailor fell silent; he simply couldn't imagine the scene, it was beyond his comprehension.

As the night deepened, the sailors dispersed, the soldiers changed shifts, and the night watchman stood by the ship, his gaze sweeping across the dark sea.

Ron was fast asleep in his cabin when he was suddenly awakened by violent shaking in the middle of the night. He went up to the deck and found that huge waves several meters high had risen on the sea and thick black clouds were pressing down on his head.

"Sir! A storm is coming!" the first mate shouted when he saw Ron.

"Look at these waves, this storm is going to be big. It's too dangerous to tough it out; we need to find shelter immediately!"

Ron grabbed the cable to steady himself and shouted back.

How far is the nearest sheltered place?

"Northeast! Udvik Island!" the first mate pointed ahead. "Marlin Coast is a natural bay; we can go there to take shelter from the storm!"

"Turn! Full speed ahead!"

The ship struggled to adjust its course amidst the giant waves, each rise and fall feeling like climbing a hill, reaching the top only to crash down again. All around were black walls of water. After an unknown amount of time, the outline of land appeared ahead.

"We've arrived! Marlin Coast!" the first mate shouted excitedly, his voice filled with the relief of surviving a close call.

The storm raged outside Udvik Island, with howling winds accompanied by a muffled roar, while the storm was relatively calmer inside the Marlin Coast.

Ron looked up and surveyed the island. It should have been a bustling village, but now it was just a desolate and dilapidated scene.

The first mate followed behind Ron, looking at the surrounding ruins and sighing.

"My lord, this place wasn't always like this. It used to be a bustling place because of its excellent location, beautiful scenery, and top-notch cuisine. Back then, Udvik was the second most lively place in the archipelago after Great Skellige Island."

Unfortunately, ever since a giant awoke from hibernation and began wreaking havoc, most of the island has been destroyed, and the inhabitants have all fled; no one dares to return.

Ron didn't reply, his gaze sweeping across the pebble beach on the shore, where there was a string of footprints.

"But these footprints look fresh."

The first mate leaned over for a look, then curled his lip. "Oh, another bunch of audacious bastards. Even after the incident on this island, people keep coming here. There are mercenaries who want to earn the giant bounty, and guys who want to see giants with their own eyes. Heaven knows what they're thinking, risking their lives like that."

Ron looked away and didn't continue the topic.

Do you know where the blacksmith's workshop in Todalo is located?

The first mate hesitated for a moment. "There's a mountain to the north, but sir, I don't recommend you take that risk. We should wait for the storm to subside and leave this godforsaken place immediately."

Ron was about to speak when he suddenly heard a faint cry for help coming from afar.

"First mate, stay here and guard the ship. I'll take some men to check it out."

Soon, the fifteen regular soldiers who had been summoned lined up on the shore, raised their shields, and followed Ron toward the hillside.

Titus and Cassius walked on either side of the group, their eyes occasionally sweeping over the surrounding bushes and piles of rocks. The group advanced southward and soon discovered a camp that had been attacked.

The tent was torn to shreds, with scraps of cloth scattered around. Several corpses lay on the ground, dressed in Skellige-style armor, their bodies contorted as if they had been thrown from a great height.

Ron crouched down and took a look. The bloodstains on the ground stretched forward, indicating that someone was still alive.

"Keep up"

The group passed through the camp and continued forward. At the end of the cave, voices were coming from inside. Ron stopped and looked back at the soldiers behind him.

"Form a perimeter for defense; the cave is not suitable for large-scale combat."

The regular army stopped and deployed in formation on both sides of the cave entrance. Ron drew his greatsword and entered the cave. After taking a few steps inside, the space suddenly opened up, and two huge trolls were gathered around a large cauldron, constantly adding firewood to the bottom.

"Help me! The water's boiling!!" A man's screams came from inside the pot, and the chains rattled loudly.

The troll slammed his hand on the pot impatiently. "Shut up, it'll be cooked soon."

Ron emerged from the shadows, sword in hand. "Troll? Can it talk? I need that guy in the pot. Let him out."

The two trolls turned to stare at Ron, one of them scratching its bald head.

"No, humans, unless you solve the riddle correctly, you'll be our dinner."

"riddle?"

The troll's words carried an awkward earnestness: "Well, he guessed wrong, so now he's ours."

Ron looked at them with a cold gaze, then raised his greatsword.

"My patience is really limited, so let's try a different approach."

Upon seeing this, the two trolls roared simultaneously, their roars exploding in the cave and causing rocks to fall from the cave ceiling.

They charged toward Ron with heavy steps, their thick arms slamming down with a whooshing sound, and Ron charged toward the troll.

With a sudden burst of power, he slammed his foot into the troll's chest. The iron boot struck the troll like a battering ram hitting a thick city wall, sending the troll flying backward and crashing heavily into the stone wall.

boom!!

The entire cave shook, and the troll's rocky shell shattered upon impact, embedding its entire body into the rock. It struggled several times before finally managing to pull itself out.

"Damn bugs!!!"

66

The other one circled around to Ron's side, raised its arm high, and roared as it slammed down on Ron's head.

Ron's greatsword slashed diagonally in an instant, the blade making a screeching sound as it struck the rock shell. The outer shell, which ordinary swords could not penetrate, did not provide any resistance in the face of Ron's power.

laugh!

The troll froze, its massive body snapping in two. The one embedded in the stone stopped moving upon seeing this, blinking twice as if it couldn't believe what it was witnessing.

Ron drew his sword and walked toward it. The troll pressed its back against the cave wall, crouching on the ground trembling, as if trying to hide itself inside the wall.

"Now, shall we still play riddles?"

'

The troll quickly shook his head, his movements much faster than before.

Ron walked past the troll, raised his hand and swung his sword to cut the chains. The cauldron crashed to the ground, and the person inside lunged forward, lying there gasping for breath.

"Cough cough... I'll never fucking step into a sauna again in my life. Luckily I'm alive, you saved my life. Whoever you are, thanks."

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