A sailor drew his bowstring taut, aimed at the black-armored knight on his warhorse, and fired an arrow.

The arrow, aided by its fletching, traced a nearly straight trajectory through the air, striking the opponent's side armor with pinpoint accuracy.

There was no blood as expected, only sparks from the collision of metal.

The archer froze, and before he could react, the exotic warhorse was already before him in the blink of an eye, a flash of gleaming sword light passing by. The next second, all he saw was the swirling sky and a fallen body.

Another spear thrust down from below. Alfonso grabbed the spear shaft, swung his arm, and the enemy holding the spear was lifted into the air and thrown into the turbulent river like a kite with a broken string.

Holding his greatsword level, Alfonso gripped the hilt and slashed horizontally, instantly creating a semi-circular "death zone" in front of him and his horse. The three sailors didn't even have time to scream before they were cut in half at the waist by the attack.

Alfonso continued wielding his greatsword, which resembled the scythe of death, as he maneuvered his warhorse across the small deck. Wooden shields and fragile bodies were utterly powerless against his experienced combat skills and invincible supernatural weaponry, turning into a pile of fragments in just a few breaths.

Seeing the devastation on the battlefield, the enemies on the deck hesitated, and some began to shrink back in fear.

Alfonso looked at his enemy with disdain, flicked his wrist, and the greatsword in his hand twitched downwards, the blood on the blade forming a stream that dripped onto the deck.

Hyatt frowned as he observed the worsening situation, then shouted to his daughter, "Go and give the order: except for Leoric's No. 52, have all the remaining cultists in the cabin come aboard!"

Selma nodded and hurriedly ran down the stairs.

At that very moment, Alfonso spurred his horse into another charge, but this time his target was the ship's mast.

"What is he trying to do?!" Hyatt's unease grew as he watched the knight's actions.

Alfonso spurred his horse, knocking over several enemy soldiers, and blocked a fireball with his greatsword. He rushed to the base of the mast, aimed at the waist-thick wooden post, and swung his greatsword with all his might, slamming it heavily onto the mast's base.

The force of the impact shook the entire ship violently. The enemies on deck lost their footing and fell to the ground.

Looking at the swaying mast, Hyatt's mind raced, trying to decipher the enemy's intentions. Suddenly, a chill ran down his spine, and he shouted, "Stop him! His goal is to cut the mast and slow our ship down!"

At that moment, Alfonso swung his second sword. Another deafening crash followed as the blade carved deep into the wooden pillar, leaving only a quarter of the wood still connected. One more such attack would surely break the mast.

In a moment of desperation, Number Seventeen pushed through the crowd and rushed toward Alfonso.

He released the strong, shimmering threads from his arms, which tightly bound the knight and his weapon.

Hyatt planted his oak staff between the gaps in the ship's planks, and reached out with both hands towards the black-armored knight. Veins bulged on his forehead, and large drops of sweat streamed down his face.

Alfonso's greatsword was heavily entangled in silk threads, which angered him so much that he turned his horse around, grabbed the threads with both hands, and pulled hard.

Number 17 was suddenly pulled from the deck into the air by a powerful force and flew towards Alfonso's direction.

With his arms unable to move freely, Alfonso looked at Number Seventeen being dragged over, leaned forward, and four parasitic limbs suddenly squeezed out of his armor, piercing into the opponent's chest and abdomen.

Number Seventeen stared at the parasitic limbs protruding from his chest, his mouth agape in disbelief. The excruciating pain and fear made his eyes widen, and he murmured, "What are you... monster? Mother Goddess, please redeem my soul..."

The parasite's limbs suddenly burst out of the chest cavity and spread outwards, tearing the corpse of Number Seventeen into several pieces, which fell onto the deck in pieces.

Amidst the terrified screams of his surrounding enemies, Alfonso, freed from his restraints, once again raised his greatsword, intending to deliver a final blow towards the mast.

At that moment, the space around the knight began to distort and deform. Hyatt turned his hands toward Alfonso and activated his "Dimensional Rift" ability once again.

Feeling his body growing heavier and his vision blurring, Alfonso knew something was wrong and let out a deep roar. He increased the force in his hand, and the greatsword he was slashing at the mast accelerated once more.

With a loud bang, a spatial rift with a diameter of about four meters appeared where Alfonso was standing.

The knight and his mount were transported from the ship to an unknown distance, leaving only the broken half of the mast still trembling.

Unable to withstand the impact any longer, the mast creaked and cracked, and began to slowly tilt.

Despite being physically exhausted, Hyatt forcibly released his supernatural power, teleporting the ship's greatest threat—the black-armored knight—to a distant place. However, this action also greatly damaged his body.

Blood slowly oozed from Hyatt's mouth, the scene before him spun around, and he crashed to the ground, as if all his strength had been drained away.

Selma ran crying from the deck to Hyatt's side, hugged him tightly, and wiped his mouth with her sleeve: "Father! Father! What's wrong?!"

A listless Hyatt turned his eyes toward the mast and asked softly, "The mast... still couldn't be saved...?"

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