Norrington didn't dare say anything else after hearing that.
But he was troubled.
He didn't know how he was supposed to report this to his superiors.
When discussing merits, contributors were unavoidable.
And there was no doubt that Morin was the absolute core of this operation.
The true hero who turned the tide alone.
Otherwise, Norrington didn't believe that he and his men could have defeated those "immortal" pirates.
But Morin didn't want rewards.
Which meant Norrington couldn't record this achievement at all.
A victory couldn't just... come from thin air.
Fortunately, Morin noticed his dilemma.
"This is easy to handle," Morin said.
"Don't write me in. Didn't those soldiers believe a god helped them? Then you can believe it too."
"Say you don't know what happened. Say a god intervened."
"Of course, you and your men paid a heavy price, so it's only reasonable that you receive the reward."
"But if that's the case, you-"
"These things don't help me," Morin interrupted calmly.
"They only bring unnecessary trouble."
"Alright. It's settled."
"Go handle the propaganda around the Black Pearl. It'll dock soon."
"The battle is over. Don't let people panic over a captured ship."
With that, Morin turned and left.
When he returned to the Black Pearl, Barbossa was still there, obediently waiting, just as instructed.
Norrington reacted quickly as well.
He arranged soldiers to guard the port and explained to the public that the pirates aboard the Black Pearl had been "killed by a miracle," and that the ship itself had become a trophy.
Naturally, civilians were forbidden from approaching.
"Let's go," Morin said.
He and Barbossa vanished into the air.
They left the Black Pearl and returned to the tavern.
"I'll introduce you to your future colleague," Morin said.
"Also an employee of my tavern."
"Your command is my wish, Boss," Barbossa replied smoothly. He had clearly adapted to his new role.
"No. Absolutely not!" Barbossa suddenly shouted, jumping up.
"Why not?" Morin asked, looking at him.
"He-he-he is my mortal enemy!"
If Morin weren't here, Barbossa would already have drawn his sword or gun and stabbed or shot Jack Sparrow, who was currently sleeping and snoring.
"An arch-enemy means you know each other well," Morin said, waving his hand.
"Haven't you heard that the person who understands you best is always your enemy?"
"Mutual understanding improves teamwork."
"...," Barbossa wanted to argue, but he remembered his situation and forcibly calmed himself.
"I don't have a problem," he said stiffly.
"But him..."
It was absolutely not because Morin glanced at him.
Definitely not.
"Then let him wake up and ask him," Morin said, hovering his hand over Jack's head.
A moment later, Jack woke up.
Drunkenness was nothing more than ethanol exploiting lipid solubility to pass through the blood-brain barrier and interfere with nerve cell membranes.
It disrupted enzymes, impaired the central nervous system, slowed reactions, caused dizziness, and led to unconsciousness.
The solution was metabolism.
Let the body digest it.
Morin simply accelerated that process-forcing Jack's bodily functions to run at high speed and sober him instantly.
Sweating was unavoidable.
Magic, after all, was just another form of science.
Matter never disappeared. It only changed form.
Afterward, Morin had Barbossa fetch a basin of water.
Barbossa was visibly pleased.
He brought it back quickly and dumped it unceremoniously over Jack's face and body.
He still didn't look satisfied.
"Ugh-" Jack wiped his face.
He was stunned to find himself completely sober.
No dizziness. No sluggishness.
Just cold.
Why am I cold?
Jack turned his head.
He saw the man holding the empty, dripping bucket.
Hector Barbossa.
The man who stole his ship.
The man who marooned him.
Jack didn't think.
He drew his sword and lunged.
Even now, he remembered the curse.
Barbossa should still be immortal.
A gun was useless.
That last bullet was meant for later.
Barbossa didn't resist.
He let the blade pierce his heart and smiled at Morin.
"See, Boss," Barbossa said calmly,
"it seems Captain Jack Sparrow isn't willing to be your loyal subordinate alongside me."
"Boss?" Jack froze and finally noticed Morin standing nearby.
"Your future colleague," Morin said.
"I don't think introductions are necessary."
"No. Definitely not," Jack replied immediately.
"This disgusting man stole my ship and abandoned me on a deserted island."
"With all due respect, Boss, he's absolutely not a suitable subordinate."
Jack pinched his pinky, pulled the sword halfway out of Barbossa's chest-
and stabbed it back in.
"...Boss!" Barbossa's face darkened.
He pulled the sword out and shoved Jack away.
"He's clearly disobedient! What's the point of keeping someone like this?"
"Why not let me kill him for you?"
"My ability is far greater than his!"
"Aren't you ashamed of lying?" Jack scoffed.
"I am Captain Jack Sparrow!"
"Yes," Barbossa sneered.
"The captain without a ship."
"Because of your betrayal!"
"If the crew chose me," Barbossa shot back,
"doesn't that mean I was the better captain?"
"That's because you didn't know it was a curse!" Jack snapped.
"I was protecting you!"
"And someone like you-who betrays his captain-would you ever be loyal to anyone?"
"I won't betray this time!"
"Who would believe that? If you've got the guts, kill yourself!"
"Fine! I'll kill myself!"
"You're still immortal, idiot! Do it after the curse is lifted!"
"Why would I kill myself after it's lifted?"
...
"Enough," Morin said, interrupting.
If he didn't stop them, they would argue until dawn.
Jack and Barbossa shut up instantly.
Perfect synchronization.
"You can try killing yourself after the curse is lifted," Morin said to Jack first.
Jack immediately wiggled his pinky at Barbossa, eyes full of triumph.
Barbossa glared back, then turned to Morin.
His expression softened.
Pleading.
Even misty.
It was flawless.
Oscar-level.
If Morin couldn't read minds, he might have believed it.
"But don't worry," Morin continued calmly.
"You'll eventually be resurrected."
Barbossa's eyes lit up instantly.
He turned to Jack with smug satisfaction.
Jack froze.
He clasped his hands together and looked at Morin.
His acting was just as flawless.
Morin: "..."
Alright.
Enough method acting.
"In short," Morin said,
"you don't need to fight over a ship."
"Once you're my subordinates, as long as you follow my rules, you'll have countless ships."
"Sail whichever you want."
"Build whatever you want."
This was a condition no captain could refuse.
"Faster than the Black Pearl?" x2
They spoke in unison.
Then glared at each other.
The Black Pearl was a two-masted medium sailing ship.
With favorable wind, it reached around fifteen knots.
One knot was one nautical mile per hour.
One nautical mile was roughly 1.852 kilometers.
That was about twenty-seven kilometers per hour.
Excluding special ships, the Black Pearl was known as the fastest.
But for Morin-
Could a sailboat be faster than mechanical propulsion?
Even restricted by the era, even avoiding advanced industry-
Didn't he have magic?
Aerodynamic design?
No problem.
Magical propulsion?
No problem.
This world didn't have machines.
But it had magic.
And from Morin's estimates, its magic ran far deeper than any world he'd seen.
A single cursed gold coin could absorb mana, alter weather, and sustain life.
There was the Flying Dutchman.
Davy Jones.
The Trident of Poseidon.
And Calypso.
Even sealed and degraded, she was still a god.
Morin had a feeling.
He would learn a great deal here.
"Of course," Morin said.
"It can be twice as fast."
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