Chapter 958: Chapter 541: The Fish Is Too Big (2)
The head is even more terrifying, completely like a big fish head without any human features, with bulging green fish eyes, and a large protruding mouth full of short, sharp teeth. Two fins stand on the cheeks like ears.
But their gills are actually on their necks and underarms, which is the key to their ability to breathe underwater.
What’s even more bizarre is that these monsters are not unarmed. On the contrary, some hold rusty pirate cutlasses, and some carry harpoons and hooked spears for hunting fish on their backs, with a jumble of weapons.
And this scene is the most frightening, because knowing how to use tools distinguishes them from animals, meaning these monsters are not mindless.
But aside from the dreadful appearance, what is even more terrifying is their number.
In the blink of an eye, dozens of monsters crawled out on the coast, even outnumbering the people gathered there.
Faced with monsters, they lost their numerical advantage, which immediately scared those militiamen who had rarely participated in battles.
"Oh~ my God!"
"This is like the demons under the sea Uncle Sam talked about from next door!"
"Militia training never warned us about this..."
Even the veterans who had fought bandits, heretics, and fungal parasites with the Lord couldn’t understand this scene.
Not to mention them, even Amanda’s expression turned more solemn. She recognized these creatures, collectively known as Deep Divers or Fishmen.
But these Fishmen usually stayed in the sea and would never communicate with humans, their only interaction being combat.
How did the Sect of Ascension drive these deep-sea monsters?
Amanda discovered that Hamlet’s secrets were far more terrifying than she imagined.
She couldn’t help but feel an impulse to flee this place.
But that thought was crushed the moment it surfaced; it wasn’t the time for that just yet.
The enemies in the sea weren’t enough to crush Hamlet, and she knew firsthand how frightening the small town’s power was.
But when she looked up, she saw the militiamen’s poor performance against the Fishmen. Their spears couldn’t even pierce the Fishmen’s scale armor, or they were blocked by the Fishmen’s wielded weapons.
On the contrary, Fishmen wielding harpoons hooked humans out, with wails and screams escaping their lips, only to be overwhelmed by Fishmen in the blink of an eye.
The fear of death loomed over them; they seemed like a driven school of fish.
Amanda felt helpless seeing this situation, but the Fishmen were already closing in. She knew these militiamen alone couldn’t handle the Fishmen.
She had to inspire their desire for battle through victory.
Stepping forward quickly, Amanda grasped the long whip that fell into her hand and lashed out at the sinister-faced Fishmen, the whip striking a Deep Diver warrior and causing it to stumble.
However, Amanda felt no satisfaction from hitting the target. Instead, she cursed.
"Damn it!"
The sensation transferred by the whip told Amanda about the Fishmen’s slimy mucus and scaly skin, explaining why the militiamen’s spears were ineffective, blocking attacks, the whip tearing at flesh, yet drawing no blood.
Sure enough, the Fishman warrior regained its balance the next second; it was just unacquainted with being on land, with no signs of being whipped, only its mucus rubbed off.
Immediately it targeted Amanda, moving swiftly with its fin-like flippers, wielding the tetanus blade corroded by seawater and parasitized by barnacles.
Deep Sea Slash!
Amanda wasn’t one for direct confrontation; she sidestepped the strike, tossing a throwing knife in response.
The specially made throwing knife, carrying an extraordinary sharpness, pierced through the dense fish scales, driving into the flesh and unleashing its hidden power to weaken the Fishman’s armor.
These Fishmen lacked the heretics’ ability to ignore pain, shrieking immediately and trying to pull out the strange throwing knife.
But Amanda wasn’t one to simply throw objects; she also had the courage to engage in close combat with monsters.
With nimble movements, she took advantage of the moment while the Fishman warrior was trying to pull out the throwing knife, exhibiting impressive combat skills to get close and swung a refined hand axe right at the Fishman’s large fish head.
The same robust fish scales suddenly seemed fragile, revealing a pale blue or transparent fluid seeping from the brain, causing the Fishman to drop dead instantly.
But more crawled out continuously from the sea, with Fishmen’s roars filling the coast, while humans were continually squeezed back, with a few even being dragged away by harpoon hooks now and then.
But never underestimate Hamlet, as among these militiamen, some dared to fight.
One particularly stood out—a veteran retired for losing his left hand at the wrist. Unable to wield a spear, his stump was mounted with an iron hook wrapped around his forearm, holding a sailor’s knife in his right hand.
Though joining the patrol required less of him, he hadn’t lost the courage he had following the Lord into battle.
He slashed amidst the Fishmen, his not-so-tall frame emanated an intense aura of killing intent, his ferocious visage exuding authority.
Clashes of blades and blades, this veteran paid no heed to the art of warfare, directly going for the hook.
Striking their weak spot!
The iron hook slashed along the Fishman’s gill line on its neck, hooking and yanking brutally. Here, the scales offered no protection.
One can only imagine the pain, akin to having one’s nostril pulled. Already unstable on land, it lost balance immediately with such a tug.
Finding weak points was every veteran’s instinct, and their rich combat experience allowed them to detect and seize such opportunities, slicing with force, which was not the militiamen’s feeble jabs—one chop and it split the protruding fish head.
Having fought heretics with Lance, they favored targeting the head, it was the only way to kill the monsters.
But he forgot that around him were not those reliable, combat-tested battle buddies who understood and provided mutual cover, but militiamen with simple training, who were scared even before fighting.
His counterattack contrasted sharply with his teammates’ retreat, yet it also left him in a perilous position, surrounded by Fishmen, who weren’t standing idly by.
Waving the iron hook to deflect Fishmen’s slashes, his prosthetic, wrapped in iron up to the forearm, acted as a metal-arm, emitting a sound when rusted blades struck it.
But he couldn’t fight all hands with just two, and were there not hundreds of Fishmen?
One Fishman squeezed closer, raising a harpoon, poised to kill this defiant man.
Just then, a volley of gunfire suddenly shattered the night sky’s tranquility, with explosions lighting up the soldiers’ resolute expressions momentarily.
The Fishmen, never having heard such a noise, were startled, even forgetting the enemies before them.
The iron-armed veteran and a few others who dared to oppose the Fishmen seized the moment to break away from the fight, at which point everyone realized the Regular Army had finally arrived.
The second response group to the alarm, the Navy stationed at the port, reached the scene.
Clad in sailor’s uniforms with a breastplate on top, metal helmets without visors crowned their heads; though simple, it offered good protection.
This attire bore no fancy embellishments, all designed purely for convenience in combat.
Armed with sailor’s knives at their waists, some with axes, they were basically outfitted with a pistol as standard.
But this didn’t mean they abandoned spears; on the contrary, they carried spears too, serving as their primary weapons for boarding combat fire coverage.
Lance’s logic was simple and consistent: why engage in hand-to-hand combat if ranged attacks sufficed? Even if only one enemy fell per shot, it was worth it.
It’s just that their spears lacked bayonets, evidently from a previous batch of replacements.
With a bayonet attached, they would be over two yards long, wholly unsuitable for combat in a ship’s confined quarters, making their equipment more complicated than the cavalry’s.
