Mediterranean Hegemon of Ancient Greece Chapter 962: Humiliation

Upon seeing the Daonian Fleet appear, Admika's first instinct was to retreat immediately. However, as he noted the swift approach of the Daonian Warships and glanced around at his own bloated fleet, he abandoned the thought.

After a brief calculation, Admika reasoned that the number of Warships under his command roughly matched the Daonian Fleet before him, and his crews held a clear physical advantage. They were more than capable of putting up a fight.

He quickly issued the order for the entire force to engage the enemy.

The Carthaginian Warships were already scrambling. Crews severed the tow ropes attached to damaged vessels and forced their prisoners back into the sea. Some of the more ruthless crews even forced their own wounded—men injured by fleet infantry—to jump overboard to lighten the load and restore maneuverability. But the salty seawater stung the unhealed wounds, and the wounded floundering in the water let out shrill, lingering screams. The agonized cries echoed across the fleet, casting a heavy pall over the crews before the battle had even begun.

While the Carthaginian Warships were still busy with these grim tasks, their formation having barely begun to take shape, the Daonian Fast Warships were already upon them...

Bound to a wooden pillar in the bottom hold of the Carthaginian Flagship, the Daonian captain Sesodorus had been suffering the humiliations of the crew. Suddenly, a loud shout rang out from the deck above. Panic flashed across the faces of the Carthaginian sailors in the hold. The fierce-looking boatswain released his tight grip on Sesodorus's hair and barked a few stern commands. The noisy hold instantly fell silent. Every sailor sat upright on his wooden bench, both hands gripping his oar.

The boatswain shouted once more. The sailors on one side began to row, while the other side remained still.

Sesodorus immediately felt himself spinning along with the wooden pillar. He couldn't understand what the Carthaginians were saying, but as an experienced seaman, he knew the Warship was coming about.

Sesodorus roared in grief and indignation. These were his men! What were the Carthaginians doing?!

The Carthaginian soldiers did not stop their brutality. One even stepped up to Sesodorus, intending to force him upward as well. But perhaps because the ropes were tied too tightly, or perhaps because a single prisoner didn't matter, the soldier ultimately gave up and left him.

"Great Hades, You are the sovereign of the Underworld, the master of justice, the protector of the kingdom!

I steer the Warship, fight on the seas, and defend the realm!

If the day comes, and I enter your halls, I hope your fair judgment will grant me a warrior's glory!

..."

The captive captain had suddenly begun to chant. Hearing his voice, the struggling prisoners instantly quieted. One by one, they joined the hymn. The panic vanished from their faces, replaced by a tragic resolve. No longer needing the Carthaginians to shove them forward, they marched toward the deck with firm steps under Sesodorus's solemn gaze, leaving only their somber, majestic song echoing through the hold...

Although the Carthaginian sailors could not understand the words, they fell inexplicably silent, not daring to interrupt.

The boatswain landed another heavy slap across Sesodorus's face, shaking his fist and cursing at him.

The sailors then shouted in unison, their fighting spirit seemingly reignited.

At that moment, a loud shout came from the deck.

The boatswain echoed the command. The piper sitting by the hold's exit blew into his double-reed flute. Following the rhythm, the sailors rowed in perfect synchronization, steadily accelerating.

Sesodorus swallowed the blood in his mouth instead of cursing. He knew what was happening: the Warship was accelerating, preparing for battle, and its enemy was obvious.

Joy surged through Sesodorus's heart, but he hid it well, quietly observing the hold. He turned his head, struggling to peer through the gaps left by the sailors leaning back and forth, trying to look out the narrow porthole. However, all he could see were the sweeping oars and the glimmering sea.

Withdrawing his gaze in disappointment, he focused back on the interior. He had to admit that the Carthaginian sailors were equally well-trained and coordinated. Nearly two hundred men operated the Warship as if controlling a single body. Whether accelerating, decelerating, turning, or making sharp curves, every movement was incredibly smooth, without the slightest hint of sluggishness...

He gathered all his focus, carefully sensing the Warship's movements.

In a moment of desperation, Sesodorus suddenly opened his mouth and whistled.

"Wheeet! ... Wheeet! ... Wheeet! ..."

A sharp, high-pitched note suddenly rang out in the hold. Unlike the double-reed flute, its rhythm was much slower. The two sounds intertwined, disrupting the highly stimulated sailors. The captive captain watched with delight as the rowing rhythm of some sailors fell into chaos.

Just then, a fist the size of a bowl filled his vision, followed by the boatswain's furious face. A heavy blow struck his head, and he lost consciousness...

An unknown amount of time passed before Sesodorus gradually regained consciousness.

He half-opened his eyes, sensing the atmosphere in the hold was no longer as controlled. The boatswain looked tense, intently listening to the orders from the deck and barking occasional shouts. The sailors were drenched in sweat, panting heavily. Their arm muscles bulged, veins popped, and their entire bodies were taut as they struggled to keep themselves anchored to the wooden benches... In such a tense state, no one noticed he had woken.

Sesodorus felt his body swaying left and right against the wooden pillar. He knew exactly what this meant: the Warship was constantly turning and accelerating. It was under attack!

With a clear mind, Sesodorus breathed faintly, trying his best to recover some strength while waiting for the right moment.

Before long, a rushed and frantic shout came from the deck.

Under the boatswain's command, the sailors on the left quickened their rowing pace while those on the right stopped, sending the Warship into a sharp right turn. A moment later, the sailors on the right accelerated their rowing, while those on the left returned to a normal pace...

Sesodorus understood immediately. This was a highly difficult reverse S-curve glide, a tactical maneuver used to evade enemy rams and break out of an encirclement. It meant this Warship was being besieged.

Even in such a critical situation, the Carthaginian sailors still maintained perfectly synchronized, crisp movements.

However, a faint sneer appeared on Sesodorus's swollen face. He was a Locrian. To outsiders, Locrians were accustomed to obedience under the oppressive weight of their city-state's strict laws. But the draconian punishments of gouging out eyes and severing hands had actually fostered a fierce spirit among some citizens—a character willing to risk life and death rather than shrink from duty.

Sesodorus would never let these Carthaginians, who had so wantonly humiliated and slaughtered their prisoners, escape so easily. He opened his mouth: "Wheeet! ... Wheeet! ... Wheeet! ..."

The high-pitched, rhythmic whistling echoed in the hold once more. The highly focused sailors were momentarily stunned, and the wooden oars in the hands of some unconsciously slowed to match the whistle's tempo.

The boatswain roared in fury, snatched a spear from the corner, and thrust it through Sesodorus's chest.

Blood poured from the captive captain's mouth. His whistling weakened, but it did not stop. It wasn't until a thunderous crash violently shook the entire vessel, bringing the Warship to a dead halt amid the Carthaginians' cries of alarm, that he finally passed away with a smile on his lips...

After the Carthaginian Flagship was captured by the Corvus Warships, the fleet infantry found Sesodorus's body bound to a wooden pillar in the hold, a spear piercing his chest. Through an interpreter's questioning of the captive sailors, they learned of his heroic deeds, and not a single man remained unmoved.

Midorades soon heard the news. He immediately ordered, "Carefully transfer Captain Sesodorus's body back to the Flagship and ensure it is properly preserved."

When Sesodorus's body was carried onto the Flagship of the Third Fleet, Midorades and the entire crew stood at attention with solemn expressions, offering him a dignified salute.

The Third Fleet's ambush had caught Admika's fleet—burdened with wounded soldiers, prisoners, and towed damaged ships—completely off guard. Their swift and fierce assault thoroughly shattered the Carthaginians' unformed array. After half an hour of intense fighting, the Carthaginian Fleet was routed, and even their Flagship was captured. The 3rd Fleet had won this naval battle.

Considering that night would soon fall, Midorades ordered all Warships to halt their pursuit and rapidly rescue any crew members who had fallen into the sea.

At the same time, Midorades knew the New Carthaginian Fleet still possessed residual combat strength. Since his fleet would have to pass along the coast of Sardinia Island on their return journey, he worried about a potential ambush. To prevent his fleet from repeating the enemy's mistakes, he ordered that all Carthaginian Warships captured by the Corvus Warships be scuttled, and forbade the rescue of any Carthaginian sailors in the water. He even ruthlessly commanded that their own severely damaged Warships be sunk as well.

Successive victories had elevated Midorades's prestige. At his insistence, every Warship in the Third Fleet strictly carried out his orders.