Chapter 70: THIRD POV.

It was the first time he had felt any kind of amusement since the whirlpool, and it felt like a pressure valve had been released.

The old man could do nothing but glare at him from his position. He huffed and turned his head away, muttering something about the "disrespectful youth of today" and how "the ocean should have kept him."

It took some time before Jacob gradually calmed down. He took a few deep breaths of the stale, salty air, letting the humor fade so he could focus on the task at hand.

He looked at the bars of his cage and then back at the man.

"So, Dinklehimer, you know how to sail a ship?"

The old man frowned, a look of confusion on his face due to the sudden question.

He turned back to look at Jacob, his eyes squinting in the dim light of the hold.

He hadn’t expected the conversation to take such a practical turn.

But he did reply. "Sure tooting I do, you blasted brat. Any Tom, Dick, or Harry can sail a boat, but what’s it to you?" He scoffed at the end, leaning his back against the wooden wall.

"Knowing how to sail doesn’t do much good when you’re locked in a box in the belly of the beast, now does it?"

CLANG!

The old man’s eyes widened the next moment when Jacob snapped his chains clean off.

It wasn’t a slow break like one who was exerting themselves, but a violent, sudden snap.

Jacob had grabbed the iron links and simply pulled.

The metal groaned for a split second before shattering like glass.

"Because I’m done being tied up. I ain’t no one’s slave."

’Never again,’ Jacob said to himself. He shivered unconsciously at the thought of his time as Persephone’s servant in her cave.

He remembered the feeling of being trapped, of having his life controlled by the whims of a powerful, unpredictable woman.

He had lived like that for long enough.

Whether it was a sea mistress or a group of pirates, he wasn’t going to let anyone put a collar on him ever again.

Though living with the current Persephone was something he didn’t mind.

He stood up, his head nearly hitting the top of the cage. He looked out through the bars at the other men.

Most of them were staring at him with their mouths open, unable to believe what they had just seen.

"Well? You all joining me or not? What say you?" Jacob asked, his voice ringing out through the quiet hold.

He didn’t whisper this time. He wanted them to hear him. "You ready to be free, or are you all planning on sitting on your arses till you’ve been sold off?" He addressed the other captives, his gaze moving from man to man.

"A jailbreak?" one man whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and excitement.

"Is that even possible?" another asked, leaning forward, his chains clanking.

"How’d he manage to snap the chains? They’re solid iron!"

"Is he a superhuman or something?"

Looks of astonishment and hope began emerging on the faces of the captives as they murmured amongst themselves.

The dark, heavy atmosphere of the hold was changing. The smell of despair was being replaced by the sharp, electric feeling of a chance.

Jacob was aware of what they meant by calling him a superhuman.

Even in this fantasy world, not everyone was strong.

Most people were just like the folks back on Earth, trying to get by, working hard, and having no special powers.

Everyone had to work towards every level of power through training or magic, and those capable of doing things normal men found unbelievable were usually referred to as superhumans.

Jacob knew that his time under the sea and the changes his body had gone through had made him much more than a normal man.

Jacob didn’t say anything more. He’d done what his conscience told him to do by offering them a choice.

He reached down and grabbed the chains on his feet, snapping them with the same ease as the ones on his wrists.

He then stepped up to the bars of his cage.

Instead of looking for a key, he simply bent them aside and walked out with ease.

He’d punched literally sharks to death once, so it stood to reason that he was aware of just how strong he was.

He stepped out into the aisle and made his way to the old man’s side.

Reaching towards him.

Dinklehimer flinched for a second, but Jacob just grabbed his bindings.

With two quick movements, he broke the chains on the old man’s wrists and ankles as well.

"So what do you say, gramps? I’m going to need someone to man the wheel once I’ve taken over this ship. Think you’re the man for the job?"

Jacob honestly only wanted someone who could sail this ship. He had no idea how to navigate or handle the sails of a large vessel like this.

He might be strong, but he wasn’t a sailor.

The old man fit perfectly for that job since he did say he could do it.

The old man rubbed his sore wrists and ankles for a moment, the skin red and tender from the metal.

He looked up at Jacob, an amused look on his face as he studied the young man.

He saw the strength in Jacob’s arms, but more importantly, he saw the fire in his eyes.

"Lad, I don’t know whether you’re high or mentally ill, but lucky for you, this old bag of bones is going to trust you on this one," Dinklehimer said with an old toothy grin.

While he was conservative and cautious earlier, trying to keep Jacob quiet to avoid a beating.

it didn’t mean he wanted to be a slave. Not everyone wanted to be sold into a life of misery in some far-off mine or plantation.

The old man was a good example of this. He was old, but he wasn’t ready to give up his freedom just yet.

Plus, the strength Jacob just displayed gave him a rare feeling of hope.