Deep Sea Hunter, but Deep Sea Titan

This inevitably reminded her of the aristocratic children who formed cliques during her school days.

"I never imagined that the captain was such a prestigious nobleman!"

The bagpipes expressed a very simple envy and admiration. The horn simply laughed it off, indicating that such a life was too dull and boring, and there was nothing to envy.

Among the attendees was a remarkable man, a middle-aged Tara man dressed in a simple trench coat and wearing a black hat. He possessed a solemn air characteristic of a scholar, which set him apart from the other Tara nobles present.

The horn recognized him; he was a great poet, both to the Victorians and the Tara.

"Are you Mr. Williams?"

The great poet Williams, whose poetry I often read during my student days.

The great poet merely chuckled and pointed out the horn's vocabulary habits, an accent and word choice only found among nobles who had received a standard education in Lentinium.

As a reader, Horn had a brief and pleasant conversation with the great poet, from his reasons for writing in Victorian to his attitude toward the future of Tara.

"What is thought? You plant a feather in the soil and imagine it growing into a feathered beast."

The poet concluded the exchange with the preface to his poetry collection, expressing his longing for the revival of Tara culture and his eagerness to embrace the day when the Tara language would be popularized again. However, he knew that the current actions of Deeppool were far from what he hoped for.

He was merely the one who planted the feathers; whether the feathered beast that grew was an eagle or a vulture was beyond the capabilities of a mere poet like himself. He neither wanted nor could participate in the change of this land.

Suddenly, the banquet hall fell into an eerie silence. No one noticed that behind the candlesticks, a gemstone glittered on its emerald base.

A noblewoman exclaimed that the army had secured the banquet hall, and then the entire hall erupted in cheers.

The door was violently kicked open by a Victorian soldier, and Colonel Hamilton, his face grim, walked into the banquet hall.

"ladies and gentlemen--"

"No one move!"

Victorian soldiers began to line up, completely surrounding the banquet hall.

Colonel Hamilton, in accordance with Victorian law, legally declared martial law throughout the city, and then he strode quickly toward the famous poet Williams.

He ordered his men to keep an eye on the Vayvan from the Stormtroopers to prevent her from using the breaching spear to break through the walls and escape.

"Boom!"

A giant anchor pierced through the wall, and the shadow of the brass giant shrouded Colonel Hamilton.

"I said, don't move."

Upon hearing the brass giant's deep warning, Williams frowned; it was clearly a speaking and phrasing style popular in Victoria 50 years ago.

"If you don't want to sink into the abyss..."

The brass giant squeezed into the banquet hall, the chandelier was hit by his head and smashed to pieces on the ground. He was like a tall tower, separating the garrison and the poet.

"Ridiculous! This is the land of the Empire, every inch of which is incredibly solid. How could an abyss exist here?"

Colonel Hamilton showed no fear whatsoever, another typical example of the fearlessness of the ignorant.

The surrounding Victorian soldiers quickly prepared to fire crossbow bolts and Originium Arts.

"You can experience it for yourself."

Loting could use this opportunity to verify which level the system would classify a person like Colonel Hamilton, who might not be particularly strong in combat but wields considerable power and influence.

Chapter Thirty: Blood for Blood

"Those ghosts want to set your camp on fire, and you're just going to be so foolish as to obediently serve as firewood?"

The brass hatches were rotating around Lottin, deflecting the Victorian soldiers' fire. The Tara nobles hid under the table in terror, completely disregarding their appearance; survival was the only thing they could do now.

As the giant anchor swung down, Colonel Hamilton immediately dodged to the side, his arm being crushed on the spot, the adrenaline temporarily numbing his nerves.

He used his remaining hand to draw his cavalry saber, stubbornly trying to fight back before he lost too much blood, but he felt a chaotic energy surging violently within his body, rendering his limbs immobile.

That's the effect of the passive skill [Overwhelming Force], which will temporarily immobilize anyone hit by the Deep Sea Titan.

The garrison's firepower was fierce, relying solely on sheer numbers to overwhelm the enemy. Cracks began to appear on the surrounding brass hatches, but Lotin wouldn't give them a chance to continue firing. The brass giant grabbed Colonel Hamilton's head, lifted him into the air with one hand, and blocked his path.

"Ceasefire!"

"Ceasefire!"

Captain Kelly shouted for the crossbowmen and sorcerers to cease fire, but was stopped by Lieutenant Hill.

"Keep firing. The colonel has made the decision to die."

No one noticed the eerie smile playing on Lieutenant Hill's lips.

Loting simply couldn't accurately recall every detail of the original plot 59 years later; he only vaguely remembered that the colonel was eventually killed by Deeppool spies.

Damian's last wishes mention both a deep pool and a garrison, suggesting that the person who killed him had a dual identity, and the adjutant who ordered the fire to continue was likely a spy.

Loting knew perfectly well whether the colonel he held in his grasp truly wanted his subordinates to continue firing. The brass giant smashed the head of the Filin in his hand. Loting, relying on the unexpected and powerful firepower of the enemy, suddenly attacked and caught the colonel off guard. The colonel didn't even have a chance to display his not-inferior melee combat skills.

Deadly combos are a hallmark of Deepsea Titans and are a must-try.

The system did recognize it as a hero unit, but only rewarded it with 100 gold coins and a small amount of experience. It seems that this kind of individual combat power is not outstanding, but has a certain degree of power and influence, and will be judged by the system as the lowest level hero unit.

The gold coins awarded are the same as those awarded to champions in League of Legends with a net death count of seven or more.

The giant anchor roared away, crushing Hill's chest, thus avenging Damian's death.

The horrific sight of the brass giant, impervious to firepower, crushing Colonel Hamilton and Lieutenant Hill, greatly terrified the Victorian soldiers, and their morale began to waver.

"The city's defensive artillery has been attacked by unidentified armed forces!"

These garrison troops, who had just thought they were facing unarmed Tara nobles or commoners, had now lost all their prestige and were still maintaining a semblance of order as they retreated and returned to their positions.

Loting didn't give chase. Letting Deeppool and the garrison fight each other would interfere with the launch of the Originium dirty bombs and also help Loting break through those firing points at a lower cost. Unlike the Victorian soldiers who were on a capture mission, the troops guarding the city's defensive artillery had complete heavy firepower. Although it was not impossible to break through by force, there was no need to do so at the moment.

Blood still dripped from the brass giant's anchor and palm. A dripping baseball flew by, but Lotin raised his hand and knocked it away. The baseball exploded outside the wall with a loud bang, thus saving the great poet's life.

Loting's original intention was to kidnap or behead Colonel Hamilton, but he also saved the renowned Victorian poet in the process.

"Williams, you have to live."

"I guarantee my story will give you new inspiration."

No one could have made a legend circulate among the Tara people, no, he had an unparalleled influence on the entire Victorian literary scene, and he had the ability to make the name "Nautilus" known to the land people.

"Of course, if I am the one who makes the story boring, I will not force you to do anything."

"But now is not the time to tell stories."

The poet simply adjusted his glasses; he was genuinely considering the proposal.

Lotin looked away and saw that the familiar Lupo female officer seemed to have something to say. Ah, she was called "Horn" in the original Arknights game.

“You killed a garrison commander in Victoria, and he should be tried by a military court.”

The horn wasn't exactly expressing hostility; it was merely warning the mysterious brass-armored man before it about the consequences of his actions.

"If he can receive a fair trial, it would be a satisfactory ending."

"Unfortunately, he was destined to be killed by a traitor."

Lotin was stating a fact: his adjutant had indeed openly ordered the troops to continue firing.

“You have your own missions to accomplish, and you don’t need to waste your time with me here.”

“You’re a smart man, unlike this colonel who’s been roasted over a fire.”

Lotin judged that the Stormtroopers had no reason to attack him, and letting them complete their mission would actually resolve the matter at a lower cost.

"Brass Ghost..."

Horn watched Lotin's departing figure, silently repeating the word he had heard from the Tara nobleman behind him.

Loting hoisted the anchor onto his shoulder, turned, and left the banquet hall.

The remaining three city defense cannons gradually moved closer to the city center, similar to the difference between the second tower, the high ground tower, and the front tooth tower. Therefore, Lotin did not expect their profits to reach the level of the first city defense cannon.

He had already made an agreement with Laurentina and Skaditi that the three of them would each be responsible for one of the city's defensive cannons, but the other two must wait until he arrived before delivering the final blow; they only needed to be disabled.

"Iberians?"

"It's strange to see an Iberian like you in Xiaoqiu County, who still refuses to take off his diving suit even though he has already set foot on land."

Just as Lotin was smashing several Deeppool soldiers who were robbing civilians in the chaotic street, a slightly aged but still powerful voice came from behind him.

Like the two hunters, he was also unaccustomed to the dryness of the land. After all, his body after the transmigration was physiologically Agorian. If he could, he would like to take off his diving suit and enjoy the soaking sensation of a bath, just like Skadi did in the original work.

He was also very curious about which specific type of fish his body corresponded to physiologically.

Unfortunately, these places are in such a mess that it's impossible to take off your clothes.

If he could access a sufficient amount of water on land, would he be able to temporarily escape the state of dehydration, just like the hunters, and thus gain greater strength?

He turned around and saw an elderly but still energetic Sarkaz woman who could be called a grandmother or great-grandmother. She was dressed in the uniform of an elite Rhodes Island operator, with a cowboy-like air, but more like a seasoned ranger.

This is Outcast, the Sarkaz Rhodes Island elite operator who was killed in Little Qiu County for violating the rules by firing six bullets in succession.

However, if we disregard physical condition and life experience and insist on judging age, Luo Ting is probably the older one.

Lotin thought to herself that she probably knew he was wearing a diving suit and therefore assumed he was Iberian.

"Are you representing Laterano, or that pharmaceutical company?"

Lotin looked somewhat displeased at the shimmering wings and halo—the Sarkaz, those worthy of redemption by the Lateran laws.

“I understand your dissatisfaction with Lateran; the Iberians have the right to be.”

The old man maintained his kind smile and did not seem to mind Lotin's less-than-friendly attitude.

Although Lotin wasn't a true Iberian, the old man's reasoning was basically correct.

Why did you get involved in a conflict in a foreign land?

The old man's revolver was fully loaded with bullets.

"These city defense cannons will unleash deadly Originium dirty bombs, indiscriminately targeting friend or foe."

“Someone paid me a price in the hope that I would be used to extinguish this out-of-control backfire.”

Lotin had no reason to hide this information from Rhodes Island; on the contrary, he should figure out how to make them believe it.

Scattered shells began to whistle out, exploding on the ground and spreading out clusters of Originium crystals. Compared to the number in the original story, the number of shells was very small, and because the firing preparation was rushed, they all landed in very remote places.

After sporadic firing, the two city defense cannons fell silent, and the one that Lotin was in charge of was already close at hand.

Skadi and Laurentina, along with the interference from the Deep Pool forces, were all very effective.

"Iberian, although I don't know how you obtained this information, you mean you also want to stop things from getting worse, right?"

A streak of fire flew past Lotin's head and struck a Deeppool crossbowman who was lying in ambush among the rubble, but even if he had successfully hit Lotin, it wouldn't have made much difference.

However, this does prove that Ms. Outcast is still as sharp as ever.

"Tith has been paid."

Lotin nodded. In his memory, the old woman, Sakota, seemed to have already left Laterano.

"You were also disappointed with Laterano, which is why you left Laterano and joined Rhodes Island."

This seems to be a common topic.

Chapter Thirty-One: The Time of Judgment

"This is a very bold question for a Sakota, an Iberian."

"I'm more curious about how you knew about this."

"Never mind, that's not important. Maybe you heard it from a priest named Sakota who used to preach in a small Iberian town."

Outcast remained calm, a composure that comes from weathering many storms.

"You have qualities that only outcasts possess."

Even if Lotin didn't know the plot, he could still sense a different kind of aura from this old man, Sakota.

"The dream has been shattered, whether it was the golden age of Iberia or the communal world of Lateran. To be precise, both dreams shattered at the same time."

"Especially since this dream is a shared imagination about a certain form of civilization woven by the entire group."

Outcast seemed to be recalling her days working for the Vatican; the other person's topic had indeed stirred up memories for this elderly woman.

“Iberians, you have long since awakened. You want to confirm with me whether Lateran is truly as despicable as you believe?”