Thanks to his brilliant performance in this battle, loga completely won the approval of the remaining pirates.
He personally inventoried the spoils left by the Dornishmen: one intact longship, several barrels of fresh water, and a few sacks of dry rations and similar supplies.
Although these things were not abundant, for those who lacked clothing and food and suffered from scarce supplies, they were better than nothing.
After finishing the inventory of the spoils, loga still felt uncertain about the subsequent situation.
The Dornishmen would never give up their covetous designs on The Stepstones just because of one defeat, and they pirates were inherently like loose sand, scattered across the various islands of The Stepstones, making it ultimately difficult to stand against such a powerful opponent.
Suppressing the anxiety about the future, loga turned and returned to the camp, intending to report the captured supplies to the Pirate Leader.
But after only a few steps, he noticed many pirates gathering towards the center of the camp, and a strange commotion could be heard coming from the main tent ahead.
A sense of ominous premonition surged in his heart. loga quickened his pace toward the tent and indeed saw most of the pirates clustered in front of it, their faces filled with grief.
Fermon was also in the crowd. Seeing loga approach, he whispered, "loga, the leader bled too much and didn't make it."
loga looked up, his gaze falling directly onto the lifeless body already inside the tent, and his brow could not help but furrow deeply.
The leader of their band of pirates was a man from Myr, with a full beard and a peculiar accent in his speech, yet he was fair in dispensing rewards and punishments. To seize a territory amidst many vying powers on The Stepstones was proof of his capability.
The sudden death of the leader was undoubtedly a heavy blow to the morale of these pirates, who had just endured a fierce battle.
Amidst the silence, someone brought a white cloth and gently covered the leader's body. Everyone worked together to carry him out of the tent to the edge of the sea-facing reef.
The sea breeze rolled the waves against the rocks, making a dull sound. Someone raised a hand and pushed the body into the sea. With a 'plop,' the surging spray instantly enveloped the body, and in the blink of an eye, it sank beneath the turbulent surface, disappearing without a trace.
This was the way pirates dealt with the bodies of their comrades: cruel yet efficient.
And for this leader who had roamed the seas his entire life, perhaps being buried in the waters he had fought over for half his life was what he wished for.
An old pirate raised a hand and pressed it against his chest, his fingertips rubbing the hilt of the knife at his waist. No one spoke; only the sound of the sea wind and the waves echoed between the reefs.
After a moment of silence, everyone looked at each other. They needed to discuss their next course of action.
That's right, selecting a new leader was an imminent matter.
The old leader had not designated an heir before his death, but the pirates all understood that this sea domain believed in the law of the jungle; only the truly strong could lead them to survive on the cruel edge of the Narrow Sea.
"Lads, I nominate myself as your new leader. I presume no one has any objections?"
The silence was quickly broken by the deputy leader, who usually served as the former leader's subordinate. He stepped forward.
He was a Tyroshi man, with half his beard dyed indigo and a knife scar running from his brow bone down to his jaw on his left cheek. His eyes were sinister and fierce.
Tyrosh was perpetually plagued by war. He had survived the blood fights of the city-state, abandoned the disputes on land, and forged a life-risking aptitude for the water and a viciousness among the reefs of the Narrow Sea. To be able to gain a foothold in this sea domain proved he was no ordinary person.
Seeing the usually respected deputy leader speak up on his own, many pirates exchanged glances, finding no reason to object, and began raising their hands to salute and bow.
loga remained silent in the crowd. It would be a lie to say he wasn't tempted by the position of leader, especially since, among these pirates, who understood this world of ice and fire better than he, a transmigrator?
Fermon, standing nearby, seemed to grasp something from loga's gaze, suddenly stepped out, and declared loudly, "I disagree!"
He strode out of the crowd, surveyed the surroundings, and proclaimed clearly, "In the past, the deputy leader succeeding the leader would have been natural, but now, I think loga is more suitable!"
Everyone has seen loga's capabilities these past few days, and today he personally cut off the head of the Dornish leader. Besides him, who else deserves to lead us?!"
Fermon's voice was filled with fanaticism and worship. As his words fell, all the pirates' gazes snapped to the silent loga in the crowd.
In their eyes, this youth of only fifteen years had already grown to a height of six feet, with a tall and upright physique.
His silver-white long hair, stained with dried blood, cascaded over his shoulders, and his eyes, like purple gemstones, were as deep and calm as an abyss—the mark of pure, ancient Valyria blood.
His exquisite, almost feminine face held a hint of youthful air, yet amidst the pervasive killing intent, it had hardened into sharp angles. Especially the dark red blood scabs congealed on his half-harness and longsword, all proclaiming his ferocious achievements today.
Apart from his relatively young age, the pirates present had already been completely subdued by the strength he displayed.
"loga, are you trying to contend with me for this position?"
The Tyroshi deputy leader's gaze instantly darkened, a flash of apprehension crossing his eyes. He gripped the short axe at his waist with his backhand—it was his most handy weapon, the blade polished bright. He walked towards loga step by step.
The surrounding pirates immediately backed away, clearing an open space, their eyes burning with excitement.
They all knew that the birth of every Pirate Leader required a bloody contest; it seemed this time would be no exception.
"Since you want to contend, then..."
The deputy leader deliberately lengthened his tone, shifting his steps slightly. He appeared to be walking closer slowly, but a sinister, cold light was hidden in the depths of his eyes. Before finishing his words, he suddenly exerted force, and the short axe in his hand whistled through the air as he cleaved straight down at loga's head!
This was his usual trick; he never engaged in a direct confrontation, relying solely on sneak attacks to secure a one-hit kill.
He had clearly seen loga's performance today and knew in his heart that without using underhanded tactics, he was absolutely no match for him.
Fermon, watching the fight, had his pupils contract sharply. Just as he was about to curse in anger, he heard a crisp 'clang,' and sparks erupted above the reef—loga had already swung his sword to block, the longsword steadily parrying the descending short axe.
The deputy leader froze instantly. The edge of the short axe rested an inch from loga's head, and no matter how much force he applied, he could not advance an inch further.
At this moment, the previously silent loga finally spoke, his voice as cold as ice: "Using cheap, underhanded methods, a person like you is unworthy to be our leader."
As his words landed, loga violently exerted force with his wrist, sweeping his longsword upwards. A massive force transmitted through the blade, causing the deputy leader to stagger backward repeatedly, nearly letting his short axe slip from his grasp.
Without waiting for the other to regain his footing, loga charged forward with agile steps, his movement like a nimble leopard, his feet stepping over the slippery reef as steadily as if on flat ground.
The longsword in his hand struck out like a striking viper, carrying a streak of cold light, precisely piercing the deputy leader's throat, the blade cutting straight through flesh and bone.
The deputy leader, who had been arrogant moments before, suddenly opened his eyes wide, his mouth opening, but he could not utter a single sound.
He clutched his throat, where blood was gushing out, and fell straight onto the cold reef. Blood instantly spread out, merging with the bloodstains left from the previous battle.
loga stepped his foot onto the opponent's corpse and violently pulled out his longsword. Blood droplets on the blade dripped down, striking the reef with faint, crisp sounds.
He looked up and surveyed the pirates around him, speaking word by word. His voice was not loud, but it carried undeniable power:
"I know you think I am young and lack seniority. But I must tell you, in this godforsaken world, only strength is everything!
Only I can lead you to defeat one powerful enemy after another, plunder enough spoils, and survive here on The Stepstones!"
"Now, I will be your leader. Who agrees, and who objects?!"
loga's gaze swept over every single pirate; his purple eyes churned with a coldness and sharpness unfitting for his age. After meeting his gaze for a moment, all the pirates eventually lowered their heads; no one dared to voice any doubt.
With his solid strength, with the corpse on the ground, he proved that he was the most suitable person to lead these pirates.
"loga The Throat-Cutter!"
Fermon was the first to react, overjoyed. He lifted his weapon, strode behind loga, and shouted loudly.
"loga The Throat-Cutter!"
"loga The Throat-Cutter!"
Shouts followed one after another, starting from a few people and growing until all the pirates were chanting. The cries echoed with the sea wind and waves over the barren island, lingering for a long time.
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