A Powerful Martial Artist Reincarnates as a Nun Knight

The world-shifting wavefront that swept across Menorca instantly reverberated through Sophia’s group as they breached Lord Haidrine’s inner citadel. Hildegard, Ezio and Conra instinctively faltered, their seasoned combatant’s senses attuned to any environmental fluctuations involving mystic phenomena they regularly confronted.

“Kuh, for it to become a dungeon realm so suddenly!”
Hildegard’s exclamation vocalized their collective disbelief.

Even Sophia, whose foresight had intimated such a potential outcome, clicked her tongue resignedly upon this unanticipated development actualizing.

“Tsk, we moved too sluggishly.”

She had hoped swiftly neutralizing Lord Haidrine beforehand could prevent or contain Menorca’s conversion into a sealed dungeon realm for a more straightforward resolution. However, that initial plan’s failure did not dishearten Sophia. Ultimately, the dungeon core represented the pivotal priority.

Unlike conventional stratified dungeons buried within historical tiers gradually resurfacing, these open-field realms manifesting by overwriting reality could theoretically dissipate once the core terminated – their crucial distinguishing factor.

Meanwhile, as the world-shift wavefront propagated across the newly formed dungeon island, Conra sensed his spear vibrating intensely in his grasp.

“Ughh, why is it reacting like this?”

Bewildered by its quivering motions as if craving something, Conra regarded the spear with consternation. It comprised the refitted ancient relic spearhead acquired in Marseilles mounted upon his original shaft.

Observing Conra’s perplexed expression, the Porting Spirit Lugus-Artaios explained that anomalous phenomenon:

{It senses an antiquated battlefield primed for heroic feats has manifested. An artifact would naturally respond to such circumstances. It should settle once combat commences.}

Hearing this, Conra studied his spear with rekindled appreciation – as someone raised learning Celtic warrior philosophies from his father, the notion of his weapon thrilling in anticipation of martial glory resonated profoundly.

In any case, their group’s advance never faltered despite these developments. Plowing through any obstructions, they ultimately reached Lord Haidrine’s throne room – the very location his pirate subordinates had sworn fealty, now transformed into the dungeon’s boss chamber.

Regarding that chamber entrance, Sophia inwardly sighed:

‘Tsk, the Sword of Epiphany techniques function splendidly apart from one crucial limitation.’

Her specialized translocation skill, which bypassed the traveling process by directly manifesting at the desired destination, possessed one glaring shortcoming – requiring the target location’s precise visualization and cognizance as an absolute prerequisite for actualization.

Unable to adequately perceive the throne room’s interior precluded employing those techniques. Hence Sophia, like her companions, had physically traversed this distance – compounding her regret at failing to forestall Menorca’s conversion.

Nevertheless, the throne room’s occupant would undoubtedly prove Lord Haidrine himself – their divine spirits having guided them unerringly by tracking his spiritual signature, eliminating any chance he resided elsewhere.
Even with the island dungeoned, subduing Haidrine could significantly aid their aspirations of establishing Menorca as a midpoint passenger galleon stopover given his symbolic primacy among the modern-day pirates.

Yet upon reaching that throne room’s entrance, the group instinctively sensed circumstances had already devolved.

“Well, this got messy.”

The naturally flowing ambient energies abruptly terminated at that very threshold, the chamber’s interior now spatially occluded – an unmistakable indicator that its occupant represented the presiding dungeon boss.

“Seems we’ve no choice remaining.”

Sophia eyed that door grimly, realizing they required breaching this throne-turned-boss chamber regardless. Rather, entering represented the only viable recourse for accessing the inevitably nearby dungeon core.

“Haah, no helping it then.”
“Shall we proceed on your mark?”
“I’m prepared.”
“Very well, I shall count down.”

Acknowledging Ezio’s suggestion, Sophia inhaled deeply before counting down:

“Three!”
“You skipped one and two before immediately declaring three?!”

Reacting reflexively to Sophia’s abrupt signal, her companions burst through that entrance in her wake despite Hildegard’s indignant protest – none faltering in that decisive moment.

However, upon the group’s dynamic entry, the entity possessing Lord Haidrine’s corporeal vessel while transforming this throne room into its boss chamber had already completed preparations for this primordial battleground’s manifestation:

{Far too prolonged an epoch hath transpired. Innumerable peoples migrating from the farthest eastern shores unto the westernmost realms in unending diasporas. Multitudes ruling these seas – at times as mercenary auxiliaries, at others as marauding pillagers and civilization’s bringers of ruin. I reigned supreme as that era’s sovereign!}
{Reawakened from that interminable slumber, I shall reclaim all that hath been stripped away! This world shall once more bear witness to our ancient epoch’s renaissance!}

Punctuating that declaration by hurling the throne itself toward the ceiling, a resounding krakadoom accompanied that shattering impact as debris rained downward. Evading the collapsing rubble, Sophia’s group suddenly realized their adversary had already escaped through that newly formed aperture into the open air beyond.

“What dungeon boss simply abandons the room like that on a whim?!”

Hildegard’s outraged exclamation evidenced her vexation at this unexpected development. Without hesitation, the group immediately pursued their fleeing adversary through that breach – emerging into the harbor panorama to behold their foe wielding an immense conch before them.

{I am Kukunnis – son of Luka, sovereign over Lykia, commander of the nine maritime tribes that once dominated these waters! Arise, my dormant kindred! Arouse, my sworn comrades who once shared this same cause!}

Buuuuuooooong—————!!!!

An ominously resonant horn blast reverberated as ghostly apparitions began coalescing from the earth’s surface while myriad shipwrecks in antiquated seafaring designs surged upward from the depths – their group recoiling in dismay at this unfolding spectacle.

Those translucent phantasmal figures materializing bore the antiquated garb and armaments of eras long since departed – archaic Hellenic, Anatolian, Rotaringian and Hiberian warriors answering their sovereign Kukunnis’ summons before arraying into martial ranks.

Meanwhile, precisely thirty-three sunken hulks had surfaced – their diminutive sizes considerably smaller than the St. Maria yet clearly representing the most advanced contemporary naval technologies of their bygone age despite the predominating penteconters (single-banked fifteen-oar galleys). A few rare diere (double-banked) and triere (triple-banked) vessels even interspersed that assembled armada.

Rendered speechless by this panorama, Sophia’s group could only thank providence the St. Maria’s passengers and crew had prudently withdrawn once the environmental distortions manifested. Any delayed reaction could soon endanger them as the enemy rapidly consolidated these newly marshaled forces.

Acting first, Conra recognized the necessity to hamper both those arrayed ground troops and newly surfaced warships from coordinating their deployment.
Unleashing a volley of caltrop mines to cripple the marshaling soldiers, he simultaneously requested his Sovereign Spirit’s spell augmentation:

“Esras-Hermes, I need your aid!”
{Leave it to me!}
{“Sfiora eimhite agus flandai! Shian-do ichosha amakh agus righ deib vata-makh! (O spirits of flora and fauna, spread your rampant roots and protrude your forms!)”}
{“Salmerkaikh an fasra a fasan ey khuriaban na masa mara…! (Verdant kin flourishing upon the maternal sea’s embrace!) Feyaul arna eidris agh karaigierkha ge’ara khnapakha…! (Rugged, craggy visages emulating carnal flesh!)”}
{“Fas suvas (Proliferate)! For (Propagate)! Geb mo naimad (Ensnare my foes)!”}

Per Conra’s incantations, towering arboreal archways spontaneously sprouted across the island’s surface alongside treacherously frozen caltrops pools clearly precipitated by his deployed mines.
Simultaneously, the newly surfaced ancient pirate hulks rapidly became entangled within exponentially multiplying kelp fronds anchoring them while inundated by swiftly breeding barnacle colonies clogging their oarlocks, immobilizing them.

“I’ve obstructed the enemy’s aggressive deployments and mobility!”

Capitalizing on Conra’s opening maneuver, Hildegard and Ezio began advancing alongside him toward Kukunnis and his marshaled ancient maritime forces, their eyes afire with resolute determination.