Aiven arrived at the island residential area and stopped in front of a wooden house with a strong indigenous style, constructed in advance by East Lenz Company personnel.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

A short moment later.

A young soldier heard the sound and opened the door, seeing Aiven outside and immediately standing at attention and saluting:

"Captain, you have arrived."

"How is the First Mate doing?"

Aiven walked into the room, casually inquiring about Borg's current condition.

"After taking your Magic Potion, the First Mate is recovering quite well, most importantly, the wound hasn't gotten infected.

Since arriving at Hatrafa Port, the conditions are much better than on the ship, and it's almost completely healed now."

The soldier looked at Aiven with eyes brimming with tangible reverence, nearly overflowing.

Inherently legendary, capable of leading subordinates to victory after victory, and even annihilating the invincible Hilus Navy Fleet completely!

Now, saving their lives amidst sickness, in the eyes of some soldiers, he is virtually an incarnation of a "Saint"!

Tasked with a mission coming to earth, he's a person destined for great things.

And the identity of a Wizard has already been automatically filtered by them.

This opinion is highly marketable on the "Storm Horn," definitely not an exception.

In fact, the soldier's thoughts are not exaggerated at all.

In this era, modern medicine is just in its infancy, and bloodletting therapy is still in vogue. For Pirates living under harsh conditions, the best cure or rather the only medicine after an injury is high-proof rum.

When conditions improve a bit, it is merely a bottle of poorly diluted "Holy Water."

But Aiven here not only has a plentiful supply of high-end military Holy Water but also various self-made "healing potions," especially effective for external wounds and extensive bleeding.

Thanks to Aiven's Mastery in Magic Potion, they received surplus medical provisions, which kept most of the wounded on board alive.

It's known that the number of indirect casualties on the battlefield (due to untimely treatment, infection, excessive bleeding) is higher than direct fatalities.

If not for these potions, the final total number of casualties would have definitely exceeded half!

However, Aiven thought he should eventually find a sufficiently excellent doctor.

From the Vitalist School's understanding of the human body, although he could temporarily play the role of a doctor, in the tropical environment of the "Golden Sea," various strange diseases are simply too many.

Far from being merely common external injuries.

If staying in such an environment for years, no one can guarantee they won't get sick, even an Extraordinary.

He knocked and walked into Borg's bedroom.

Although on the island of the New Continent, as the highest-ranked officer among the wounded, Borg's living conditions were still quite good.

Silk quilts, pajamas, porcelain tableware, top-grade tea... every high-end household item was available.

Before the sound-reaching Borg could get up, he was already supported by him.

"Just lie down. My dear First Mate, do you feel a bit better?

When can you get back on duty? The "Storm Horn" can't do without you!"

Upon hearing this.

The middle-aged First Mate, dressed in pajamas, showed a slight smile on his face, raising his right arm to show him. The arm below the upper arm, including the elbow, had completely disappeared.

In fact, there was a more severe wound below the right rib, nearly touching the internal organs.

It was left in the mêlée on the "Stendeburg," when the First Mate, also wearing Activated Beast Hide, was struck by the Swift Sword wielded by the enemy ship's captain, Senior Knight Stanley.

Under the medical conditions of this era, it could have basically been declared death.

But now, the wound on the arm had long since stopped bleeding and scabbed, leaving only a terrifying scar.

That's the residue of fast healing under the Magic Potion's effect, and after a while, this place will be no different from the other skin.

"Thank you, Captain, for your Magic Potion! My wound is almost fully healed.

However..."

Borg first solemnly thanked Aiven for his treatment, then looked directly into his eyes, expressing the decision he had contemplated for a long time while lying in bed these past days:

"Please allow me to request retirement, Captain!"

"Retirement?! If you're worried about your hand, you don't need to be; I'll figure something out for you."

Although this First Mate isn't particularly outstanding, ever since Aiven boarded the "Conch," he has been diligently assisting him in managing the ship, at least not making any big mistakes in logistics.

In any case, there is merit for the hard work.

At the very least, Aiven never had the thought of replacing him.

"Captain, you don't need to persuade me.

After the combat ended, I have considered it thoroughly for a long time. Compared to those old shipmates who have already gone to the Celestial Kingdom, this is already a gift from the Goddess.

I know with your power, you can completely ensure that this defective arm won't hinder my work.

But no one understands my abilities better than I do. In fact, apart from logistics, I can't fulfill the position of a Battleship's First Mate at all.

"Leave the position of First Mate on the 'Storm Horn' to the wise ones who come after!"

Aiven was about to say something, but was waved off by him.

"Captain! Can't you see that I've already received so many shares of the war rewards? How can you expect an old man like me to have the ambition to charge into battle on the high seas again?"

Looking at this "old" officer, whose hair was gray and face weathered by time, especially those resolute yet relieved eyes.

Aiven hesitated for a moment.

Knowing he had made up his mind, finally he stopped trying to dissuade him.

When comparing a dangerous life at sea to a comfortable and prosperous old age, which is better? I truly am in no position to make such a decision for someone else.

Especially for a common person who is not even Extraordinary.

"Alright! I respect your decision and choice, Mr. Borg.

I have agreed to your retirement request in principle.

The days we fought side by side, I will always remember in my heart.

Once you have recovered, I will arrange a warship from Phaletis to send you back as soon as possible.

Rest well, just like before, if anything comes up, feel free to come to me, the Captain!"

Pa—

Solemnly giving a military salute, Aiven didn't disturb him any further and turned to leave the room.

Behind him, Borg lay on the bed and solemnly returned the salute, watching Aiven's figure grow distant through the window, unable to lower his one intact left hand for a long time.

A deep sigh came after a long while:

"Major Boris will make a great First Mate!"

...

With Aiven's current ability, the potion formula for 'Limb Regeneration' is readily available in 'Flesh Sacrifice'. Even if the raw materials have to be procured from the New Continent, it should only be a matter of time if one is willing to pay the price.

However, Aiven could see Borg's true intention.

It's evident that he did not want to occupy the second most important post on the warship just because of his seniority, especially after Commander Boris, who surpassed him in ability, experience, strength, and rank, boarded the ship, this tendency became even more apparent.

Perhaps even without this "accident" of losing an arm, after a period of adaptation, he would proactively step down and let the capable take over.

However, Aiven would not allow Borg to exit the stage quietly with his maimed body:

"Hmm, with a little maneuvering, the merit from this time should be enough for Borg to return to the Third Fleet as a Navy Major in a civilian position.

In any case, in this era, being a Navy Major, even in name only, is much superior, or rather, safer than being a wealthy man with heaps of money!"

Leaving Borg's quarters, Aiven went to visit some other soldiers injured in battle.

After consuming the Magic Potion meticulously concocted by Aiven.

And after recuperating on the return voyage and the island, most of the injured had recovered, and in at most three to five days, they should be able to return to their posts.

Moreover, these soldiers, who had been tempered through blood and fire, would become the real backbone of the 'Storm Horn'!

As for severely wounded soldiers like Borg who ended up with physical disabilities, even after recovery, it would be hard for them to return to combat duty.

Fortunately, the 'Storm Horn' was not short of spoils recently, and bringing this merit and dividend back to Phaletis, at least their livelihood was secured, or perhaps they might even secure a minor position in the local garrison forces.

After such a long time, Aiven had already adjusted his mindset. As long as he's on the sea, or as long as he does not become the strongest, such occurrences are inevitable.

Even the fate of the 'Stendeburg,' might not be incomparable to his own in the future.

Bitter lamentations serve no purpose; the only thing to do is to grow stronger! With greater strength and influence, and then obtain the right to control one's destiny!

Therefore, today he had another important task to complete.

After completing the comprehensive inspection of the island, it was already evening.

Aiven returned to the port, which was beginning to take shape, where a merchant ship belonging to the East Lenz Company was waiting for him.

Besides the merchant ship, there was another person present, and that was the ship's current Cannon Commander—Major Boris.

At this moment.

This tall officer with light golden hair and a scruffy beard, usually composed, was pacing back and forth anxiously by the side of the ship, occasionally looking inland, evidently troubled by something.

Upon seeing Aiven, his eyes brightened instantly, and he took a few swift steps forward:

"Captain, you finally came!"

"Major Boris, how could I forget what I promised you?

Arranging the work on the island in the past few days took some time, but now we can depart, let's go see Calvin together."

Calvin was Boris's son, who was gravely ill.

After the great battle, having witnessed Aiven's extraordinary abilities, Boris had renewed hope for his son's strange ailment. While normal doctors and church priests couldn't solve it, perhaps it could be addressed by a wizard?

To a father, any shred of hope is reason enough not to abandon his child. Hence, he earnestly sought Aiven's help, determined to try anything.

This played right into Aiven's intentions.

Everything happens because of people, and now outstanding talent was right beside him.

Especially in times like these when there's a severe shortage of personnel, how could Aiven idly watch Boris retire and waste talent?

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