Chapter 37 – Oh Ye Be Pirates, Savvy?

The Stroud sways gently in the harbor, her patched sails flapping like tired flags, her hull creaking like an old warhorse brought out of retirement. She isn’t as heavily armed as a brigantine, nor as sleek as the corsairs we glimpsed before, but she carries scars of her past—fishing hooks still hanging from the rigging, nets tucked away in hidden corners.

I run my hand across the wood, wondering where Nu Wa even dug up this relic.

“Alright ye bilge rats! On yer knees and get scrubbin’!” Eira shouts, brandishing a mop like it’s a cutlass. “I want this deck gleamin’ like the moon on a calm sea, savvy? If I see so much as a speck o’ grime, ye’ll be kissin’ the planks!”

“…It’s wood, not steel! What’s the point of making it shine!?” I complain, already down on my knees with a brush.

“Pipe down, swabby!” She cackles, hands on her hips. “Clean her so bright ye could signal a ship from ten leagues away! A pirate’s pride is in her deck, and if ye can’t keep her tidy, how ye be expectin’ to keep her afloat?”

I grit my teeth, muttering curses under my breath. Beside me, Harmonia hums cheerfully as she scrubs, acting like this is the greatest game in the world.

“Arrr! Randy, faster! Yer pace be slower than a sea turtle draggin’ its shell!” she mocks in her best pirate voice.

“Don’t you start!” I snap, scrubbing harder just to keep up.

Meanwhile, Eira swings up the rigging with inhuman ease, checking the sails, barking orders, and laughing every time one of us messes up. She leaps down, inspecting the cannons, then—without warning—dives into the sea.

“Wait—what the hell is she doing!?” I rush to the railing.

Bubbles swirl, then her head bursts from the waves. She waves, grinning ear to ear, her hat miraculously still on her head. Her outfit clings to her body, yet not a drop drips off.

“See, swabbies? These sea-weave garments be enchanted! Waterproof, fireproof, storm-proof! A true pirate never sails without one!” She flips in the water and vanishes beneath again.

Moments later she climbs back on board, not a hair out of place, not a single drop of water clinging to her. It’s like she never even touched the sea.

Seraphina crosses her arms, unimpressed. “Hmph. Show-off.”

Elowen leans on the railing, smirking. “Still better than Randy’s scrubbing.”

“Hey!!” I snap, glaring at them while still on my knees, hands raw from the brush.

Luna, meanwhile, just sighs, holding her forehead like she’s already exhausted. “This is ridiculous. We’re supposed to be adventurers, not… swabbies.”

“Don’t complain, nya,” she adds, half-whispering, her tail twitching in amusement as she watches me struggle.

I shoot her a look. “Did you just—?”

Her face flares red instantly. “S-shut up!! I didn’t say anything!!”

Harmonia bursts into laughter, nearly falling over with her mop. Eira throws her arm around the little cat-folk girl, joining in the laughter.

And just like that, the Stroud doesn’t feel like a relic anymore.
She feels alive.

The last rays of the sun bleed into the horizon, painting the sea crimson. The Stroud groans against her moorings, eager or unwilling—it’s hard to tell. I rest my hand on the railing, and the chill crawling down my spine deepens.

This isn’t just training. This isn’t play.

The harbor erupts with shouting.

Korvus struts forward with a parchment in hand, waving it like it’s a royal decree. Behind him stumbles Arin, drunk as ever, bottle swinging, hat nearly falling off. And trailing them… the worst bunch of misfits I’ve ever laid eyes on.

Scarred faces, missing teeth, eyepatches, more tattoos than skin. Some wield cutlasses, others rusty axes, and one guy even carries a shovel like it’s a weapon.

“Aye, Eira!” Korvus bellows. “Here be yer new crew! Every last one o’ these barnacle brains signed the death warrant—meanin’ they be bound to the ship ‘til death takes ‘em! The sea offers no mercy, and neither will fate!”

“…Death warrant?” I mutter, brows twitching. Seriously, what the hell did we sign up for!?

“Avast, ye swabs!” Korvus roars, puffing out his chest. “Get yer sea legs movin’ or ye’ll be swabbin’ the decks ‘til the worms eat yer bones! The Stroud sets sail with the wind o’ doom at her back!”

The pirates howl and cheer, banging mugs against the railing, spitting on the deck like it’s some sacred ritual.

And then, of course, Arin stumbles into the center, moving like he’s caught in some invisible tide. His walk is all slants and zigzags, but somehow… he doesn’t fall.

“Ahoy, me mateys!” he slurs, tipping his hat to no one in particular. “A ship, aye… a ship indeed. Fit fer sailin’, though not nearly fit fer me stomach. But what’s a ship without grog, eh? Bring me rum, or I’ll set sail meself—solo! And I won’t be takin’ this beauty with me, savvy?”

He collapses onto a barrel, laughing like a lunatic.

Luna mutters, “…Why is he still alive?”

I shrug helplessly. “Pirate physics?”

But the mood shifts fast. The new crew starts to circle, eyes gleaming with mischief.

“Well, well, what have we here?” one leers, reaching for Elowen’s arm. “Pretty little lass aboard a pirate’s ship. Bet ye’d fetch a fine price, eh?”

Crack! In one smooth motion, Elowen twists his wrist and hurls him to the ground, then boots him in the rear so hard he rolls into a barrel. “Touch me again and I’ll forge yer skull into an ashtray!”

“Oi! Hands off!” Luna’s rapier flashes, cold steel pressing against another pirate’s throat. Her golden eyes blaze, tail puffed out in fury. “The next fool who tries that loses more than his dignity.”

Meanwhile, Seraphina just… smirks. Her body shifts, her legs coiling into glistening naga scales, fangs bared. The air thickens with killing intent as she hisses.

Half the pirates scream, tripping over themselves. “S-Serpent demon!! By the sea gods, she’s a monster!!”

The deck is in chaos—men scrambling, others pretending they totally weren’t gonna do anything, Korvus looking like he’s about to faint.

And then, Eira stomps her boot, the sound cracking like a cannon shot.

“Arrr, ye scurvy curs!” Her cutlass gleams as she levels it at her new recruits. “Ye so much as look sideways at the ladies on me ship, and I’ll make ye walk the plank blindfolded with cannonballs tied to yer feet! Savvy!?”

The pirates freeze. Then, like schoolboys caught by their teacher, they all salute at once. “A-Aye, Cap’n!!”

Luna lowers her rapier with a huff. Elowen crosses her arms, smirking with satisfaction. Seraphina retracts her coils, though her glare promises she’s not done.

I… sigh.
“So this is our crew, huh?”

Beside me, Harmonia grins from ear to ear. “I like them! They’re funny!”

“Of course you do,” I mutter, watching Arin hiccup and steal someone’s mug.

The Stroud surges forward, sails fat with wind, cutting through the canyon waters like a blade. The timbers groan, and the salty spray lashes across our faces.

Somehow, against all odds, this ship is alive.
Alive—and ready for war.

Korvus plants himself at the prow, arms wide, his voice booming over the storm.
“Fair winds and following seas, me hearties! May yer sails be full and yer anchor be strong! May the sea gods bless ye—or curse ye proper if ye falter!”

The new crew roars with laughter and cheers.

Arin staggers up beside me, bottle in one hand, the other clutching the mast like it’s the only thing keeping him from tumbling overboard.
“Know yer way ‘round the seas, lad? Or do ye need a trusty map to keep from walkin’ us into the Kraken’s belly, eh?”

“Uh… yeah?” I scratch my cheek, unsure if that’s a real question.

Arin grins, teeth flashing beneath his crooked hat.
“Aye, don’t fret. Cap’n Eira’s a firecracker, but beneath the bluster beats a heart o’ gold… though she might blow ye sky-high before showin’ it, savvy?”

As if on cue, Eira strides across the deck, wind whipping her hair, boots thundering against the planks. She points her cutlass at Arin.
“Arin, ye rum-sodden swab! Quit jawin’ and keep yer eyes sharp! Silver Fang’s makin’ a den o’ the altar, and I’ll not let those bilge rats squat on me legacy! We’ll sneak in like ghosts, quiet as a graveyard tide… no repeat of last time, savvy!?”

Arin bows in mock elegance, almost tipping overboard. “Aye, aye, Cap’n! Though quiet ain’t exactly yer strong suit, is it now?”

The crew bursts into laughter, only silenced when Eira hurls a mug at him with deadly accuracy.

The sea changes as we near the canyon—the waves twist and claw at the hull. Jagged rocks rise like a monstrous claw reaching from the deep.

An orc pirate leans against the railing near me, tusks gleaming as he spits into the sea. “Aye, lad, they call this place the Kraken’s Hand. Waters rougher than a drunk dwarf in a tavern brawl. At its core lies a hidden isle—that cursed altar where yer hero, Drake Stroud, first be summoned.”

My chest tightens. So it really exists.

All around me, the crew prepares.
Luna helps unfurl the sails, graceful despite her annoyed muttering.
Elowen wrestles with ropes, cursing under her breath as she shoves pirates twice her size aside.
Seraphina stands on deck, scales glinting as she drills the crew with blade forms.

“Swing harder, ye sorry sea lice!” she hisses, tail lashing. “If ye can’t cleave wood in two, ye’ll never cut down a man! Again!”

“YARR!!!” the crew shouts, trying not to look terrified.

Eira laughs, slapping me on the back. “Arrgh, they’ll be lions in no time! With trainin’ like this, the Stroud will be more fearsome than a fleet!”

But before her words fade, the canyon opens… and there they are.

Two Silver Fang ships. Black sails snapping like wings of carrion crows. Cannons jutting from their sides, hungry for blood.

“Avast ye!” Arin suddenly bellows, all drunken slouch gone, his eyes sharp as steel. “Silver Fangs off the bow! Load the cannons, me hearties! Let’s give ‘em a broadside they’ll never forget!”

“Aye, Cap’n!!!” the crew answers, scrambling into chaos.

“Wait—subtle!?” I sputter, gripping the railing. “This is head-on!”

“Subtlety’s for merchants, lad!” Arin cackles.

My hands tighten around my rifle. The world narrows. The noise of the ship, the shouting pirates, the crash of waves—all fades until only the scope and my breathing remain.

Through the glass, I see him. The enemy captain, barking orders at the wheel.

One shot.

BANG!

The rifle kicks, smoke curling from the barrel.
The captain jerks back, falling, his hat spinning into the sea.

Panic erupts aboard the Silver Fang ship.

“Captain’s down!”
“Who’s steer—”

BANG!

My second shot splinters the wheel. The ship veers out of control, crashing broadside into its sister vessel. Sparks. Fire.

And then—
KABOOOM!!!

The ship explodes, flames devouring its deck. The shockwave rattles the Stroud, sending pirates sprawling.

My jaw hangs open. “…Are you telling me their weapons cache wasn’t safety-friendly!?”

Arin slaps my shoulder, nearly spilling his drink. “Aye, lad! Pirates be good at plunderin’ but when it comes to organization, we’re about as sharp as a blunt spoon! HAH!”

The crew cheers, roaring like lions.
Eira grabs me by the collar, her grin fierce. “Shiver me timbers, lad! Ye just turned the tide with one shot! Ye’ve got the makings of a proper pirate yet!”

All around, hands slap my back, voices echoing.
“Aye, fine shootin’!”
“Proper marksman, that one!”
“Salt in his veins, sea in his soul!”

I lower the rifle, heart pounding. The sea wind lashes my face, carrying smoke and fire with it.

Somehow, we survived the first clash. But the altar… the real battle… has yet to come.

The Stroud creaks as it slides deeper into the jaws of the canyon, cliffs looming overhead like the fangs of some colossal beast. Inside, another hidden ocean stretches out before us—mysterious, restless, and utterly unknown.

Eira grips the wheel with one hand, map in the other, eyes glittering as she steers. “Steady as she goes, ye barnacle-brained dogs! The altar be waitin’ ahead, and the seas’ll not forgive fools who slack!”

Luna sidles up beside me, arms crossed. “At least we’re not charging one-on-one into a death trap this time…”

I smirk, still holding my rifle. “I’d rather just take the shot and be done with it.”

She raises an eyebrow. “…Since when have you not been slacking?”

“Excuse me!?”

Before I can protest, Luna unclasps part of her outer outfit, leaving only slim-fit pants and a simple shirt. She ties her hair up into a sharp ponytail, eyes narrowing.
“You need training, Randy. Mind and body.”

“…Now? Here?!” I glance around. The crew is watching. Oh great.

“No can do. You’ve been avoiding this.” Her voice is firm, absolute.

I groan, standing. “Fine… don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Stripped down to just my fists, I square off with her on the open deck. The pirates cheer like it’s their evening entertainment. Coins clink—bets are being made.

Then—
Wham!

Luna’s kick slices through the air, sharp as a blade. I barely dodge before another follows, and another. My arms sting with every block.

I’m not being bullied. I know she’s pushing me because she wants me strong enough to stand on my own.

Her voice cuts between blows. “This place is unknown. We can’t afford weakness. You need to be ready—always.”

I grit my teeth, swinging back. She catches my jab, twists my arm, but I shove her aside and body-check her, forcing her to stumble. With that opening, I unleash a burst of CQC—punches, elbows, knees.

She blocks, her lips curling into a smile. “You’re getting better.”

“And I’ve got a good teacher,” I shoot back, half serious.

Across the deck, Arin leans against the mast, flask in hand, whispering to Eira.
“Those two be somethin’ else! Where’d ye fish ‘em up from, matey?”

Eira smirks. “They pulled me hide outta Silver Fang’s clutches. Saved me life, they did. Granny knows the tale already. Landfolk, they are—but not like the rest.”

Arin tilts his head, suspicious. “Lady Nu Wa don’t open her arms easy. She’s warmer to ‘em than rum on a cold night. What treasure they carry to win her trust, eh?”

Before Eira can answer, Elowen cuts in, half-annoyed. “Randy doesn’t trust anyone easily. He’s… not even from this world. That’s all you need to know.”

“…Drake Stroud, aye?” Arin mutters, eyes narrowing. “Tangled as a kraken’s beard. Prophesy be stirrin’…”

Meanwhile, back in the ring of cheering pirates—Luna and I are still colliding.
Her fists, my blocks. My strikes, her counters. Neither backing down.

She grins mid-combo. “It’s been a while since I’ve taken this many hits. You’re holding back less.”

I pant. “How about… we take a break?”

“NOPE!” She drives her fist into my gut, knocking me back to one knee.

“Guh… yeah, break sounds good…”

“NOPE!” She lunges again—relentless.

But this time I’m ready. I catch her arm, twist into a CQC lock, drag her down, and hook my legs around her head. The pirates howl as I pin her to the deck.

“Wanna take a break now?” I grin.

She smirks up at me, eyes flashing. “Not bad… but you forget.”

Her body bends—unnatural. Flexible. Almost inhuman. Right… she’s a cat-folk.

She wriggles out like water slipping through my grip. We’re face to face again, both grinning like maniacs.

“Knock her down, Randy!!!” Seraphina yells, slamming her tail against the deck. “If you win, I’ll give you my special massage later!!”

Every pirate on deck freezes. Then they all erupt, howling with laughter and catcalls.

“Oi! That ain’t fair!”
“Bet’s on the lad! Take her down, boy!”
“Hah! Don’t let her charm ye, lass!”

Harmonia leaps up on a crate, waving her hands. “Go Randy! Go Luna! Smash each other!!!”

The ship rocks with laughter, stomps, cheers, and shouts as our spar turns into the strangest spectacle the Stroud has ever seen.

And somehow… beneath the bruises, beneath the noise, I feel it.
That this—this fight with her—wasn’t about hurting. It was about trust. About strength. About us.

At some point, I’m flat on my back, chest heaving. Luna’s standing over me, sweat glistening, a satisfied grin tugging at her lips.
“Heh… now that’s training.” She reaches out and pulls me up, her grip strong, steady.

For me, it’s humbling. For her, it’s just Tuesday.

Then—laughter explodes.

I turn and see Elowen bouncing a pouch of coins in her hand. “See?! Told you Luna would wipe the floor with him! I’m rich!!”

The crew groan, slapping their foreheads. Pirates bicker, coins change hands, some accuse each other of cheating.

Eira slams her boot on the deck. “Avast, ye bilge rats! Back to work or I’ll have ye kissin’ the plank! The Stroud won’t sail herself, savvy?!”

The chaos dissolves as quickly as it rose. The pirates, grumbling, grab ropes, mop decks, and haul sails. And just like that, the ragtag band begins to move like a proper crew. Talk about instant change.

After the sparring spectacle, the sea grows eerily calm. No more enemy sails on the horizon. No more cannon fire. Just the creak of wood and the crash of waves.

I lean against the railing, watching the horizon. Then I wander over to the wheel, where Eira has her map spread out, her eyes flicking between compass and sea.

“So,” I ask, “wasn’t this supposed to be Silver Fang’s den?”

Eira spits over the side, glaring at the waves. “Silver Fang’s lair be east, lad. Right by the Wall.”

I blink. “…The wall?”

“Arrgh!” She jabs her dagger into the map, the tip landing on a swirling pattern drawn over the sea. “The Great Cloud Wall! A cursed stretch o’ water, shrouded in endless fog. Inside, it’s a graveyard o’ ships—jagged rocks, sea monsters, wrecks that never sank. The Silver Fang scoundrels built their port on its eastern edge. Worse still…” Her eyes narrow. “They’ve been scratchin’ their backs with the curs of the Western Demon Kingdom.”

That makes both Luna and me freeze.
“…The Western Demon Kingdom?” we echo.

Eira slams the wheel. “Aye! Silver Fang sold their black hearts to the devils for sea dominance. Granny’s blood boiled when she heard! Drake Stroud swore the sacred oath o’ the sea—‘Never be a slave’! But Silver Fang? That dog dances on demon strings. The oath’s been shattered!”

Arin staggers up beside her, flask in hand, swaying like a drunk poet. “Bah! Silver Fang be floppin’ about like a fish in a bucket! Young bloods forgettin’ the code, tradin’ honor for power. Ain’t no pirate worth his salt if he bows to a master, aye?”

I fold my arms. “…I see.”

Luna glances at me, sharp as always. “Randy…”

“Yeah?”

“If the Western Demon Kingdom is truly pulling Silver Fang’s strings… and if they’re allied with the Northern Demon Kingdom…” She bites her lip. “That would be an interesting proposition. Their hostility—or neutrality—changes everything. We need to confirm it.”

“Maybe,” I mutter, scratching my head. “But I’m not into that kind of politics.”

Eira barks out a laugh. “Arrgh! Politics be a muddy sea, lad! Treachery, backstabbing, and grovelin’! Silver Fang lickin’ demon boots? That makes ‘em traitors, plain and simple! Better to sink with honor than to live as a slave to devils!”

The crew roar their approval, stomping the deck, raising mugs of grog.

I sigh, eyes fixed on the dark horizon where the Great Cloud Wall churns.
A cursed sea.
A traitorous fleet.
And now… a deal with demons.

At Sea

The Stroud carves through choppy waters, sails straining. Far behind, two shadows stalk us—ships flying the Silver Fangbanner. One gleams with silver-gray sails, cutting the mist like fangs themselves.

On its deck, an elf captain lowers his spyglass. Pirate leathers cling to his frame, elvish blades at his sides.

“Aye, Eira… enjoy yer hollow victory. Ye’ve won a skirmish, but the war’s far from over. I’ll make ye dance the plank before ye touch treasure, savvy?” His smile is sharp as his blade.

Behind him, the fog blooms with firelight. A fleet unfurls—dozens of warships, bristling with cannons. And looming above them, an airship fortress, its crimson insignia of three scars tearing across the sky like a wound.

Demon-Aligned Airship

Inside, Thorgrim leans against a beam, arms folded. His voice rumbles like thunder. “So… the pirates siding with Nu Wa… she’s the princess?”

A scarred pirate captain laughs, rotten teeth flashing. “Aye! The brat of the Pirate King. Slay her, and Eligos is ours! Gold, glory, every cursed isle!”

Thorgrim frowns. “…Is coin the only thing you dogs chase?”

“Arrgh!” the man slams a mug down. “Better coin than bowin’ to a lass wearin’ her granny’s crown! Only a real captain—a man o’ the sea—deserves the helm!”

Thorgrim exhales slowly. “…And what of you, Xylara?”

From the shadows, Xylara steps forth—tall, lean, her green eyes glinting like venom. “The Western Demon Kingdom honors its deals. So long as Grimgold keeps his word.”

Grimgold Ironfang laughs, pounding his chest. “Word o’ Ironfang’s as strong as steel! Nu Wa’ll thirst for blood, aye—but when she comes, I’ll blast her and Eira both to the depths!”

“Good,” Xylara murmurs. “Then this war will be over swiftly.”

On deck, Silver Fang cannons glow with runes, magicians weaving spells into steel. No longer mere pirates—they are a demon fleet.

Kingdom of Mana – Magick Capital

Fu Xi’s office shakes as the doors burst open.

“Lord Fu Xi!!” Elysia storms in, Oswald, Marlisa, and Marian on her heels.

Fu Xi doesn’t turn. He stares out the window. “…This is about Randy.”

“Is it true?” Elysia’s voice quivers, fury and fear entwined.

“Ely! Not so loud!” Oswald hisses.

Marian glances around. “Someone followed us.”

Fu Xi shakes his head. “Pretend nothing’s wrong. Keep your composure. Yes—Randy lives. But I cannot leash the storm he carries. Aethone presses harder every day… she rallies as if for war.”

“That bitch!” Elysia slams her fist down, wood cracking under her strength.

Marlisa bites her lip. “When he survived Kuzman’s banishment, when he came back… the students believed in him. Raul too. But Alfian…”

Oswald exhales. “Alfian doesn’t believe anything unless it benefits him.”

Fu Xi’s voice sharpens. “Listen. This must remain hidden. If word spreads and Aethone turns—or worse—chaos will engulf us all.”

Elysia grits her teeth, trembling, but says nothing.

Then her pendant glows—projecting a flickering image.

“Whoa! Hologram’s working!” Nyx waves, grinning. “Hey Ely, hey Oswald—why do you all look like someone died? …Wait. Did someone die?”

Elysia growls. “…Not now, Nyx.”

Fu Xi rubs his temples. “…What do you want?”

“Eh, nothing serious. Just thought I’d check in. Randy’s radar gizmo keeps blaring—like it’s detecting storms or armies or… something. Probably nothing, right?” Nyx scratches his head, still smiling like an idiot.

Fu Xi’s eyes darken. “…No. Not nothing.”

Oswald leans forward. “What do you mean?”

Fu Xi finally speaks, voice heavy. “The Northern Kingdom is mobilizing. Their armies march toward Elysium’s borders. If Aethone senses this, it explains her desperation.”

Everyone falls silent.

Nyx blinks, confused. “…Wait. Hold up. Are you saying Randy’s radar actually works? Hah! I told him it wasn’t just scrap metal! …Wait—does this mean—”

“Nyx. Enough.” Fu Xi cuts him off.

The projection flickers out, leaving only tension in the air.

Fu Xi mutters to himself, “I only pray Randy survives what’s coming.”

Elysia’s eyes burn. “Then I’ll play her game. But when the truth comes out—I’ll be the one holding the blade.”

In the Shadows

Alfian walks beside Aethone, smirking. “So. You want glory?”

She leans close, eyes glowing faintly. “No. I want a hero. And I want you.”

Their lips meet—hard, hungry.

“Serve me,” she whispers. “And I’ll make you greater than Raul. Greater than any knight.”

“Sounds perfect.”

“And Raul?”

“Let him rot with Fu Xi. I’ll bring you the rest.”

Her laughter is soft, cruel. Shadows ripple at her back as she presses herself against him. “Then prove it. Bend the others. Drag them if you must. In return…” Her voice lowers to a husky purr. “…I’ll give you my body, my power, my love.”

They sink into each other. And as they do, her golden aura rots to violet shadow, corruption coiling around them like serpents.

The Saint is no more. Only a false prophet of desire.

Northern Demon Kingdom

In his black throne room, King Azrael sips blood-red wine, eyes gleaming.

“My, my… still not enough. More. Build me more. Until the land drowns in iron.”

“At once, my lord!” an orc bows and marches out.

Beside him, Morwenna traces a claw along his arm, voice sultry. “The moment draws near. Strike now, and kingdoms crumble.”

Azrael smirks, crimson wine staining his lips.
“Aethone is already lost. Corruption rots her from within. Her fall will herald her people’s fall. The kingdom that began it all… will be the first to burn.”

Morwenna leans against his throne, her laughter low and sultry.
“Then let them drown, my king. Their light will be the pyre that fuels your dominion.”

Their laughter echoes, shaking the obsidian walls. Outside, war drums thunder—a thousand boots striking in rhythm, a storm of steel waiting to march.

Vista Valley

The city bustles with uneasy life. Banners ripple, merchants shout, but under it all lies a tension—like the air before lightning.

In the mayor’s hall, Mickey, now deputy mayor, lounges with his boots on the polished desk. Across the room, Althaeonstands tall, overlooking the balcony where the city Randy once rebuilt stretches out.

Prince Arthur paces inside, his jaw tight, when a soldier bursts in—breathless.

“My lord! Urgent news!” The soldier kneels. “The Mercenary Kingdom of Kilos has… pledged allegiance to the Northern Demon Kingdom!”

Arthur’s eyes widen. “…Those cowards. Typical.” His hand clenches his sword’s hilt, rage boiling.

But Althaeon’s voice cuts firm. “No, boy. Do not let anger cloud you. This is not the time for a prince to throw his blade like a child. It is the time to be a pillar for your people. If your sister can endure her burden, so must you.”

Arthur’s hand trembles… then he unsheathes his sword, holding it before him. The steel glimmers in the light.
“When you gave me this blade, I swore I would uphold my duty. I will not falter, no matter the cost.”

Althaeon nods, grave. “…Then vigilance will be our shield. And our answer…” His eyes narrow. “…lies in action. Guard! Fetch Mickey!”

“At once, my lord!”

Mickey – The Bar

Mickey reclines in a smoky tavern, surrounded by laughter, clinking mugs, and the smell of roasted meat. A tankard of strong ale rests in his hand, half-drained.

He chuckles to himself. “Deputy mayor, huh? Who’da thought the streets would lead me here? Ain’t so bad.”

“Lord Mickey!!” A guard stumbles in, panting.

Mickey lifts a brow. “Whaddaya want, pal? Can’t a man enjoy his drink in peace?”

“Emergency, sir! The mayor requests your presence immediately!”

Mickey sighs, drains the last gulp, and slams the mug down. “Figures. Duty calls when the buzz just kicks in.” He tosses a coin to the bartender. “A fin for the trouble. Keep the good stuff warm for me.”

“Much obliged, my lord.”

Mickey winks, tips his hat, and follows the guard out. “Alright then. Let’s see what fire we’re steppin’ into this time.”

Border of the Northern Wall – Mana

Night falls heavy over the border forts. Guards shift uneasily atop the battlements, mist curling at their feet.

Then—light.

Faint at first, like fireflies. But growing. Multiplying. Red and orange, dancing across the horizon like a wave of flame.

A young sentry leans forward, his face pale. “…C-Commander? Do you see that?”

The horizon glows brighter, the earth trembling faintly with each thundering step carried on the wind.

Another soldier grips his spear, voice cracking. “…That’s not fire. That’s… banners. Thousands of them.”

The sound grows—horns of war, deep and foreboding.

The Northern Demon Kingdom marches.

And for the first time in years, the walls of Mana feel small.

To be continued…