Chapter Sixteen: My Lord

The banshees exchanged glances, whispering among themselves in small clusters. Occasionally, a few eyes would glance at Hughes before quickly looking away.

Hughes sighed softly. It was clear that the banshees had truly taken his words to heart; they no longer regarded him as a deity.

He did not regret it, but there was a lingering sense of... loss.

These banshees could have brought great aid to his domain. After all, he had more than enough troubles to deal with, and they were genuine extraordinary beings—he had witnessed their ferocity in battle.

Besides, they had once revered him as a god... a god...

Ash stood not far from Hughes. His words had caused her to bow her head in thought for a long while. Now, she frowned, about to speak, but the complex emotions churning in her chest left her at a loss for words.

She was not particularly skilled with speech.

At that moment, a smaller figure swam over, smiling at Ash before approaching Hughes.

“Hello, my name is Monica,” she said, looking at Hughes.

Hughes was somewhat surprised to see this... little girl.

She seemed to be the youngest among the banshees, her youthful face still carrying traces of innocence.

Her scales were emerald green, her hair the same shade, and her eyes sparkled like coral in shallow seas.

“You said you are a lord... I don't understand much about humans on land. Is this your domain? Would you consider taking us in?”

Hughes’s eyes brightened.

“Of course. According to my charter, half of the Storm Ocean is legally my territory. The Empress never specified which half, upper or lower.”

That charter was deliberately vague. If he could truly claim the entire Storm Ocean as imperial land, the Empress might grant him the title of prince overnight.

Ash thought seriously for a moment. “Then we were born as your half-subjects.”

“Half-subjects?” Hughes raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Yes.”

“You wouldn't refuse the loyalty of your subjects, would you? We are your ‘half-subjects,’ as you yourself have acknowledged.”

“Of course not. But how does one pledge half their loyalty?”

“We will all pledge loyalty to you now—you never said whether it was the first half or the second half,” Monica said slyly. “We weren’t your subjects before.”

Hughes gasped inwardly... a cold splash of water.

This little girl was quite the persuader; it was a pity she wasn’t a preacher in a church.

The banshees laughed too. After Monica’s playful chatter, the atmosphere finally lightened.

Ash’s eyes gleamed sharply as she looked over.

---

Hughes felt a headache coming on. Why had these banshees fixated on him? Why did they trust him so deeply? They had once seen him as their savior god, and now they wished to pledge fealty.

He had noticed just then, after Monica joked about pledging loyalty, many banshees’ eyes lit up.

He was puzzled. After he declared he was not a god and declined their worship, their trust in him only grew stronger.

What Hughes did not realize was that the very words he had spoken, meant to reveal his true feelings, were shocking and unprecedented to this world.

As a man from the modern world, having seen humanity’s greatness in a world without gods, it was natural for him not to see so-called deities as lofty beings.

When he denied being a god, he felt a certain pride—pride in being mortal.

That faint expression of disdain had not escaped the banshees’ keen senses. They could sense that Hughes truly scorned the idea of being a god.

What kind of being would disdain a god?

Here stood a human, fragile as a swimming fish, yet without a trace of fear. He could forge symbiotic contracts directly, was placed on a god’s pedestal, yet abandoned it without hesitation, as if it were as common as seashells.

He also possessed vast knowledge and casually broke a curse that had tormented their kind for centuries.

Besides, he was a lord, while banshees had no homeland.

The banshees exchanged looks, an indescribable atmosphere slowly spreading.

Ash sensed the shift. After hesitation, her gaze grew resolute. She then straightened and called out loudly in all directions:

“Clanmates! It is time to decide. Let us link together once more!”

Saying this, she gently closed her eyes.

Her silver-white hair swayed softly in the sea, and the banshees followed, closing their eyes solemnly.

What were they doing? Hughes looked around, curious.

The banshees were serious; even young Monica quietly crossed her fingers over her chest and closed her eyes.

At this moment, all the banshees had their eyes closed, but Hughes felt something was amiss. Through the symbiotic contract, he faintly sensed something strange.

It was as if the banshees had become one entity.

Was this another of the banshees’ abilities? He resolved to inquire when he had the chance.

His wonder did not last long. Moments later, all the banshees opened their eyes simultaneously.

Ash exhaled deeply, her expression relaxing slightly. She swam slowly to Hughes, speaking earnestly:

“The banshee clan is willing to follow you and become your subjects.”

Hughes felt a stirring in his heart. He looked around; the banshees varied in height and appearance, but their eyes all shone with the same light.

“So, this is the collective will of all of you?”

He guessed as much, recalling the banshees’ innate ability for symbiotic connection. Their simultaneous closed eyes must have been some form of communal telepathy.

---

It had to be said, it was very efficient. Reflecting on the earlier dispute at the Abyssal Gateway, they all respected the final decision.

Ash bowed again, this time without kneeling. Her silver hair floated gracefully in the water.

“We are willing to follow in your footsteps.”

“This is not born of prophecy, tradition, or any other force, but of our own will.”

She paused, seeming to listen to a voice within her mind.

“We may not yet fully understand all your ideals, but we can feel your resolve.”

Hughes turned to look around. The banshees met his gaze, and suddenly he understood. Their communication was not limited to words; his struggle, his thoughts, and ultimately his unwavering determination had gradually inspired them. Even without comprehension, they could sense his resolve.

They chose to trust him.

This was both gratitude toward him and a decision made after deep consideration of their clan’s fate.

Banshees were truly a wondrous race. Their invisible spiritual power gathered as if in a silent choir. This mysterious atmosphere made Hughes feel his blood surge.

Ash stepped forward.

“Your will is our destiny.”

“My lord... my master.”

The banshees bowed their heads in unison.

Hughes stood on the sea floor. The deep sea was dark, yet the banshees’ multicolored scales shone like jewels in sunlight—like the stained glass of a cathedral dome, casting a sacred, dazzling light.

How beautiful.

At this moment, that light surrounded him, bringing warmth to the cold depths.

Hughes seemed to hear countless heartbeats gradually merging into one, like the gazes resting upon him.

That was the power of trust.

“I understand,” he said, straightening his posture.

“My name is Hughes Corsica Simmons Stuart, Border Earl of Kastel Island in the Holy Empire of Saint Myrl. By the sacred covenant and the Empress’s charter, I am the lawful lord of this land. I accept your loyalty.”

“My subjects.”

“Welcome to my domain.”

Looking into the shining eyes around him, he whispered:

“Welcome home.”