Chapter 45 – The Rise of the Brethren Court

When I opened my eyes, the first thing that hit me wasn’t pain or smoke from battle.

It was… fragrance.

The faint sweetness of old jasmine.
The sharp zest of lemongrass.
The earthy calm of sandalwood burning low.

This… smell. Tribal. Familiar.

I turned—and froze.

Luna was curled up next to me, clinging to my arm. Sleeping soundly.

My brain instantly short-circuited.

(…W-wait. What do I do here?!)

Do I… be a gentleman? Smile, brush her hair aside, say something cool?
Or… do absolutely nothing?

She looked cute, though. Really cute. Her soft breath tickled against my shoulder.
…Crap. My heart’s beating too fast.

And then my eyes wandered.

(…Her chest… it’s… small… smaller than Seraphina’s… but—DAMMIT stop comparing!! Her curves are… ugh… actually pretty good. That tail though… that ass—STOP. STOP IT. WHAT THE HELL AM I THINKING?!)

I slapped my own face mentally.

Ever since Lilith… or my mom, or whatever-that-was… I haven’t been able to focus.

“I approve…” her voice echoed in my head.

“Shut up, Mom!” I hissed under my breath, facepalming.

But then—
I realized Luna’s grip was iron-clad.

No joke. I tried to slip out carefully… and nothing. I pulled harder. Nothing.

(Is… cat-folk strength really this insane?!)

“Ermm…” Luna murmured.

Then—she tugged me closer. Like I was a body pillow.

“Dumbass… Randy…” she mumbled in her sleep, her forehead pressing against my chest.
“You’re not alone… you have friends… and you have me… I can’t afford to see you like this…”

I froze. My brain shut down.

“…H-huh?”

That was… sleep talking? Or…

My chest tightened a little.

(…Nope. No time. I can’t deal with this. Focus on what matters: pirates. Enemies. Going home. Forget this. Forget—)

And then.

SHFF!

Her clothes loosened.

🤯

(—HUH?!?!?!)

She was still holding onto my arm. Still asleep. Yet somehow… her top slipped open just enough to reveal bare, pale skin.

(WHAT KIND OF CHEAT SKILL IS THIS?! IS THIS SOME CAT-FOLK MAGIC?!?!)

She wasn’t covered in fur—her body looked almost entirely human, save for her ears and tail.

And speaking of her tail…

My hand twitched.
Before I knew it, I brushed her ear.

Soft. Warm. Silky.

(…Crap. Crap crap crap why is this addicting?! She’s just a cat. Just. A. Cat.)

And then—like the world’s dumbest decision—
I touched her tail.

“Mmmnn~” Luna moaned faintly.

I froze. Blood drained from my face.

(YIIIIIIIIIIIIKES.)

Panicking, I scrambled and tried to cover it by rubbing her hair gently, like some nervous idiot petting a cat.

Her eyes fluttered open.

“...Mmm?”

“P-please just be a dream. Please. PLEASE BE A DREAM.” I whispered in horror.

Outside the hut—
The Brethren Court roared with laughter, mugs crashing together, roasted meat sizzling over open flames. Ancient pirates traded songs, orcs arm-wrestled goblins, and someone tried to juggle knives.

And then—

“EEEEAAAAAARRRRGHHHHHH!!!”

My scream tore through the night.
Followed instantly by the BAM BAM BAM of fists pounding flesh.

Everyone froze mid-bite.

“…Was that Randy?” Elowen tilted her head, blinking.

“Yep.” Nu Wa smirked, sipping calmly from her mug.

Eira shrugged, raising her cup. “Sounds like he finally tried somethin’ stupid.”

The crowd paused for three seconds. Then—back to drinking, feasting, and cheering as if nothing happened.

Inside the hut—

Thud. Footsteps thundered against the wooden floor. The door slammed open—Harmonia and Seraphina stormed in.

What they found:

“Uuugh…” I groaned. Every muscle screamed mutiny.

“What the heck happened in here?!” Harmonia’s voice cracked like a drum.

“Hey, Luna, what did you do to Randy?” Seraphina asked, her brow furrowed in suspicion.

Luna turned, her catlike eyes narrowing into deadly slits. Her tail flicked like a whip.
“Nothing. He just had a bad dream.”

Her gaze cut toward me.
Correction: more like she’s still killing me with her eyes.

(My bad dream? Yeah, you were the bad dream, cat-folk demon!!)

“Really…?” Seraphina’s lips curved into a sly smile. “Maybe I should stay with him tonight. Make sure he’s… safe.”

She stepped forward, brushing past Luna, reaching toward me—

But Luna yanked her arm back, smiling sweetly. Too sweetly.
“Ah—no need. I’ve already taken care of him. Nothing to worry about. I’m serious.”

The air thickened. A spark arced between them—like the first crack of thunder before a storm.

I lay sprawled on the bed, barely able to twitch a finger, watching in horror as Luna and Seraphina squared off over me like wolves fighting for territory.

(Oh great. The fight of the century’s about to erupt… right over my half-dead body. Just kill me now and save me the drama.)

“Ugh…” I groaned pitifully.

“Randy needs rest. So leave.” Luna’s tail flicked like a whip, her ears twitching dangerously.

“Hmph. Rest? With you lurking over him like a jealous cat? I’ll take proper care of him.” Seraphina crossed her arms, spear still strapped to her back, eyes gleaming with challenge.

They glared—feline killer intent versus serpentine confidence.

And then—

“Here, Randy! Say ah~!”

Harmonia’s cheerful voice cut through the tension like a rainbow in a thunderstorm. She plopped herself down right beside me, cheeks puffed in determination, spoon in hand.

Before I could even protest, she leaned over me with sparkly eyes. “Here comes the choo-choo train~! Open wide!”

Damn. That’s food. And I am starving…

My mouth opened on instinct.

“Ah—”

SHOVE.

Warm stew slid into my mouth. My brain lit up like fireworks.

“Ohhh that’s good…” I mumbled through the mouthful.

“HEY!!” Luna’s eyes flared, ears flattening, tail bristling like a furious housecat.

“OI!!” Seraphina snapped, stomping a foot so hard the floor rattled.

Both of them leaned forward, glaring daggers at Harmonia.

But me? I didn’t care. I was in bliss.

(Screw it. I don’t give a damn anymore. I’m hungry. Feed me, Harmonia. You’re my hero.)

“More?” Harmonia asked, spoon already loaded.

I opened my mouth like a trained pet.

“Ah~.”

Outside the hut, the night air carried muffled thuds, yelps, and Randy’s latest scream of despair.

“…Was that Randy again?” Elowen asked dryly, sipping her grog.

“Aye.” Eira smirked into her cup. “Sounds like he’s fightin’ a battle fiercer than demons—against the women in his bed.”

Nu Wa chuckled under her breath, sitting cross-legged beside them. “Hah. Poor lad. Doesn’t matter how sharp his blade or clever his mind—he’s cornered either way.”

Tikka, coiled elegantly in her half-mermaid form, rested her chin on one hand. Her sapphire eyes glimmered. “…Tell me, does this Randy of yours… always draw women to him like this?”

“Aye,” Nu Wa said with a knowing grin. “Seems he’s cursed—or blessed—with no other way o’ avoidin’ it.”

Elowen exhaled, tapping her mug against her knee. “That ability of his… the Lady Killer.”

The words seemed to hit Tikka like a harpoon. She stiffened. “…Lady… Killer?” Her voice carried a rare tremor.

“Aye? What’s this ‘Lady Killer’ ye be whisperin’ about?” Nu Wa raised a brow.

Elowen explained, half annoyed, half resigned. “It’s a knack. The rare kind. Said to let a man sway any woman’s heart without tryin’. He doesn’t even realize it’s happenin’—but it does.”

Nu Wa whistled low. “Hells. And here I thought he was just a fool with dumb luck.”

Eira squinted at Tikka. “Ye look spooked, Lady Tikka. Don’t tell me ye’ve seen it before.”

Tikka’s gaze drifted far away, back into memory. Her voice softened, almost reverent. “…Yes. Long ago. There was another who carried that same… curse. Or gift. Drake Stroud.”

“EHHH!?” Elowen, Nu Wa, and Eira yelped in unison, nearly choking on their drinks.

“Arrgh, no wonder!” Arin burst out laughing, slamming his mug on the table. “That explains the boy’s blasted aura! Attractin’ women like flies to honey! Har har har!”

“You’re tellin’ me…” Elowen muttered, rubbing her forehead.

“Yes,” Tikka sighed, her tone heavy. “Drake had the same presence. And though he was brilliant, bold, and brave… he was also a womanizer. Legends say he never sailed without at least three women at his side. His heart wandered as much as his ship.”

Elowen, Nu Wa, and Eira all exchanged looks of dread.

😨 “That’s… terrifying.”
😰 “The boy’s doomed.”
😑 “…And we’re the unlucky fools who have to watch it unfold.”

Arin roared with laughter, nearly falling off his seat. “Hah! That’s Drake for ye! The only pirate in history who conquered hearts as easily as kingdoms! Didn’t matter the woman—queen, witch, or tavern wench—he took ‘em all! Har har har! The lad’s just followin’ in his wake!”

Tikka’s tail flicks uneasily, her amber eyes narrowing like the tide before a storm.
“No… I only pray Randy doesn’t walk the same path. For if he does… it won’t just be women’s hearts he conquers. It will be their ruin.”

The laughter around the long wooden table falters. Tankards pause mid-clink. Even the fire’s crackle seems to hush.

Rivan and Ravenna rise from their seats, bowing low before the dragon lord.
“Lady Tikka,” Ravenna says, voice trembling but resolute.

“Yes?” Tikka’s gaze softens just slightly.

“I… I would like to know the arts of the water,” Ravenna blurts, her fists clenched.

Rivan nearly chokes on his drink. “S-Sister! We could never—!”

“Sure,” Tikka interrupts smoothly, her lips curling into the faintest smile.

“EHHH!?” Rivan’s jaw drops, sweat pouring down his temple.

“My training is not gentle,” Tikka warns, eyes glinting like moonlight on dark waves. “Are you certain you can endure it?”

“Yes!” Ravenna shouts, louder than she intended. Her determination silences even the rowdy pirates.

Tikka turns to her brother. “And you, boy?”

Rivan scratches his head nervously. “I-I’m… not sure. But… aye, I’ll give it a try.”

“You both have the sea’s call in your veins,” Tikka says firmly. “Your affinity will guide you. Who knows—perhaps one day you’ll surpass even Nu Wa.”

“Oi!!” Nu Wa slams her tankard down, glaring with mock outrage.

Elowen leans forward, eyes sparkling. “Lady Tikka… I was wondering about the smithing arts of this place. My father told me stories—about a smith he once met here.”

Nu Wa tilts her head. “Ah… Anduril, wasn’t it? He came here long ago. But that smith you speak of… has already passed on.” She chuckles dryly. “Heheh.”

Elowen’s face falls. “Uh huh…”

But then Tikka speaks, her voice carrying a quiet pride. “That smith… was my student. I taught him myself.”

Elowen’s eyes practically burst into stars. “SO!!!” ✨🤩✨

“What is it you seek, child?” Tikka asks with a knowing grin.

“The art of water-forging. My father still kept the blade that smith created. I want to understand it… how it was made.”

“Ah… that technique is a blend of steel and spell, hammer and current,” Tikka says. “Difficult, but not impossible. Why do you desire it?”

Elowen smiles, cheeks flushed. “Because I want to learn every forging art in the world. Smithing is my pride… and my joy! Tehe~”

Before Tikka can reply—

BANG! The hut door bursts open.

Seraphina storms in, still bickering with Luna, the two practically spitting sparks at each other. Behind them, Harmonia skips in, humming a tune, looking blissfully unbothered.

And then—

A long rope slithers across the floor. Everyone follows it with wide eyes until they see the pitiful figure it drags along.

Me.

Bruised. Half-conscious. Hauled in like a sack of turnips, bouncing on the floorboards with every pull.

“…Like I’m some damn toy…” I wheeze, face kissing the wood.

Tikka presses a palm to her forehead, tail twitching. “Ah, stars preserve me…”

Nu Wa bursts out laughing, slamming her hand on the table. “Hahahaha! Now that’s something you don’t see every day!”

“Arr, shiver me timbers,” Arin wheezes, nearly spilling his grog.

“Hick… that’s… new,” Eira adds, slurring, trying to hold back drunken tears of laughter.

Elowen’s twin tails bristle like angry cat ears as she points accusingly. “OI!! What are you all doing, fooling around at a time like this!?”

The room freezes.

“…That,” Tikka says dryly, glancing at Elowen’s fiery pout, “is what makes the world spin.”

The elders exchange looks—some awkward, some sweat-dropped, some simply sighing at the chaos this group always brings.

Finally, Tikka leans back, her blue-scaled tail curling lazily behind her as her golden eyes scan the rowdy gathering.
“So… where to next, Nu Wa?”

The pirate queen smirks, lifting her tankard high. The firelight glints in her gaze like old treasure gleaming at the bottom of the sea.
“To the Sea Wolves Clan.”

The pirates erupt in cheers, mugs clashing, grog spilling onto the floor. The smoky air is thick with laughter, fire, and the scent of roasted fish—and underneath it, the smell of a storm brewing.

“They usually scatter like minnows,” Eira mutters, swaying slightly with her drink.

Nu Wa leans forward, a grin tugging at her lips. “But I know how to call ‘em. There’s always one lurking ‘round Isla Del Malsa’s tavern. We start there.”

“Aye. Then we set our course,” Eira agrees.

Tikka rises suddenly, drawing every eye in the hut. “Then I shall join the crew.”

“My lady!” one of the elders gasps, nearly spilling his drink. “You mustn’t!”

Tikka smiles faintly, almost wistful. “It has been too long since I traveled. My blood calls for it… the sea calls for it.”

Eira tilts her head. “So… ye got a ship then, lass?”

“Nope,” Tikka answers without shame.

“Then the Stroud shall be yours,” Eira says with a grin.

“Very well. I accept.”

The pirates roar again, but while they talk, I slip closer to Elowen.

“Hey, Elowen,” I whisper.

“You good?” she deadpans, eyes narrowing.

“Yeah… sorta. Anyway, I’ve got another project.”

Her brow twitches. “Wait. Not another one of your crazy inventions—”

“It’s a ship,” I cut her off, raising a hand.

She exhales. “…Okay. That’s… not too bad, I guess. What kind?”

I glance around and lean closer. “Not just any ship. I’m planning… a vessel for under the sea.”

Elowen stares at me. “…A what now?”

“A submarine,” I say, dead serious.

“…You’re insane.”

“Here’s how it’ll work—”

Before she can argue, I summon the SkyBreaker, which descends with a rush of wind and light. Tikka herself steps out to watch, her eyes widening.

“So this is how you travel?” she muses.

“Yep. It does wonders.”

My golems stand ready at attention.
“Awaiting orders, sir,” one intones.

“Let’s build,” I reply.

Elowen groans, pinching the bridge of her nose, but she follows anyway. Luna, Seraphina, and Harmonia tag along—each with their own curiosity (or suspicion).

With Elowen’s smithing expertise, Harmonia learning magic, and Luna’s lightning weaving into the design, we begin construction. Tikka guides us to rare underwater stones, harder than steel yet light as coral, perfect for withstanding the pressure of the abyss.

The design forms slowly—sleek and narrow like a spear, with fins like a squid. A machine pulled from both my memories of old-world videos and my uncle’s rambling stories.

By the time the final piece clicks into place, the Nautilus looms before us—massive, gleaming, and terrifying. The size rivals even the Stroud.

Tikka circles it, tail flicking thoughtfully. “This vessel… it looks like a kraken.”

“Aye,” Eira slurs proudly. “The dreaded kraken reborn.”

Nu Wa and Arin burst into laughter. “Boy, ye’ve built somethin’ scarier than most legends! Hahaha!”

Elowen crosses her arms, glaring at me. “Another one of your crazy ideas. And what’s this thing?” She taps one of the launch tubes.

“Torpedoes. Missiles. And an invisibility weave using water mana stones. Quiet, hidden, deadly.”

Seraphina narrows her eyes. “Oi… Luna… is Randy… okay?”

Luna sighs. “…That’s just Randy for you.”

“Yayyy! We can see the underwater!!” Harmonia twirls happily.

I grin and pat the hull. “I call it—the Nautilus. Protector of the sea. A scourge to its enemies. Like the tales of Jules Verne from my world.”

The pirates stare in silence, then exchange wary glances.

“Perhaps… this vessel may serve us well,” one elder murmurs. “Pirates would never board such a ship.”

Tikka nods. “Then share your design with us, boy. We shall guard it as a secret of the Court.”

“Uh… sure,” I answer, scratching my cheek.

Eira waves her hand dismissively. “Arr, I’ll stick to the waves. Submarines ain’t my drink.”

Nu Wa laughs. “Aye, agreed! Above the water, where I can breathe and brawl.”

The Fleet Sets Sail

The hunt begins.

The Stroud sights one of the Sea Wolves’ ships—the Black Fang. Eira signals with flags, a call for parley.

Onboard the Black Fang, a kobold captain squints at the message.
“They want to talk. What say you all?”

The crew roars. “AYE!!!”

Cannon fire thunders.

“So much for talk,” Eira growls.

Beneath the waves, inside the Nautilus, Elowen claps me on the back as I take the controls.
“Hey! This is actually kind of cool!”

“Don’t distract me!” I snap.

Seraphina points through the porthole. “Look! Mermaids and mermen are gathering beneath the enemy!”

I smirk. “Perfect. Luna, charge the torpedoes with lightning. Set them to stun.”

Electric arcs dance through the water, currents surging like a living storm.

On the surface, Eira’s jaw drops.
“Shiver me timbers… what in all the seas is that!?”

Mermaids and mermen burst from the waves, forcing the Sea Wolves into chaos.

Nu Wa lowers her spyglass, grinning. “Seems they’re panicking already.”

The Nautilus glides silently under the Black Fang. I pull a lever—our weapon strikes the rudder with a sharp crack.

“Captain!!” a panicked sailor cries.
“The ship won’t steer!”

The kobold captain stared in horror as the sea frothed and churned. From the abyss below, a massive shadow loomed, then burst through the surface.

The Nautilus rose like a living leviathan, water cascading from its gleaming hull. Its spear-like shape caught the sun, monstrous and otherworldly. To the Sea Wolves, it was no ship—it was a nightmare given steel and magic.

“…W-What is that!?” one sailor shrieked.

“It’s a monster!!” another howled.

“What shall we do, Captain!?”

The kobold captain’s throat worked furiously, his claw trembling as he raised it high. “R-Raise the flag! P-PARLEY!!”

Within moments, the Black Fang was surrounded by the fleet. The Stroud, The Scourge, The Strider—and from below, the Nautilus circled like a shark.

Nu Wa swung herself across the gangplank, boots hitting the Black Fang’s deck with a pirate queen’s authority. Her grin was wide, sharp, and dangerous.
“So… ye’re the scaly rat who keeps hangin’ ‘round our tavern, eh?”

The kobold captain straightened his ragged coat, forcing some dignity into his voice. “Aye… our leader wished to keep an eye on the waters. That’s all.”

“Then lead us to yer leaders,” Nu Wa demanded, her voice like a blade wrapped in velvet. “We’ve business t’ discuss.”

The kobold captain’s eyes darted nervously between the Nautilus—still looming, water dripping from its hull like blood—and the pirate fleet encircling him. “…Talk, huh?”

“At least a discussion, savvy?” Nu Wa offered with a sly wink. “We ain’t here t’ gut ye… yet.”

The kobold hesitated, tail twitching. He muttered under his breath, “Drats… if the boss hears of this, I’ll be shark bait…”

Nu Wa leaned in, voice dropping to a purr. “How about I sweeten it? Every time ye visit our bar, I’ll see ye get a whole tab o’ grog. One mug, on the house.”

The kobold froze. His ears twitched. His tail stiffened. “…One mug? Per visit?”

Nu Wa smirked. “Per visit.”

The kobold groaned, shoulders slumping. “Fine… fine! Blast it all. Ye’ve got me by me whiskers.”

Nu Wa slapped him on the back hard enough to make him stagger. “Knew ye’d see reason!” She thrust out her hand. “Name?”

The kobold puffed out his chest, trying to recover his pride. “Long Bolt. Captain o’ the Black Fang.”

They shook hands—Nu Wa’s iron grip making him wince.

Back on the deck of the Stroud, Eira leaned against the railing, watching the Nautilus with narrow eyes.
“So, savvy… care t’ explain what in seven hells that beast is?”

Arin let out a low whistle, sipping grog. “Arr… all I know is, it’s armed t’ the teeth. Somethin’ pulled straight outta nightmares.”

Eira crossed her arms, glaring at Randy’s “invention” breaching proudly in the harbor. “A ship like that don’t belong in these waters. It tips the game… unfair-like.”

Long Bolt nodded grimly. “…Aye. Agreed. If that thing sails these seas, there won’t be balance. Not for pirates. Not for anyone.”

Nu Wa only smirks, her golden tooth flashing under the moonlight.
“Balance?” she repeats, voice rich with amusement. “Hah. Balance don’t exist, lad. There’s only two kinds o’ souls on the sea—those who seize the tide… and those who drown in it.”

A ripple of unease spreads across the deck. The pirates mutter, exchanging wary glances between the Nautilus, still gleaming with water-magic, and Randy, who looks far too relaxed for someone piloting what appears to be an underwater monster.

Even Long Bolt swallows hard, tail twitching. “…Remind me not t’ cross that one.”

By dawn, the fleet sails through mist and shadow.
The Stroud leads, its sails painted crimson by the rising sun. The Scourge and The Strider follow in formation, while below, the Nautilus glides silently like a predator beneath the waves.

They follow a course toward a hidden part of the island chain—one whispered about in taverns but marked on no map. When the fog finally clears, Isla Del Malsa emerges from the mist, half-shrouded in jungle and legend.

Inside the Nautilus, the hum of mana engines fills the cramped metal corridors. Blue light pulses along the walls, giving the interior a dreamlike glow.

Elowen leans against the control chair, arms crossed. “So… just gonna say it—this feels way too quiet.”

Seraphina’s tail flicks once, her spear resting beside her. “Yeah. Like the calm before a storm.”

Luna peers through the glass viewport, her catlike eyes reflecting the deep sea light. “Or like we’re being watched.”

“…By what? Fish?” Randy mutters, fingers dancing over the console. “Seriously, don’t start with that ghost ship nonsense again.”

Elowen raises an eyebrow. “They are pirates, right?”

“Yep,” Randy replies flatly.

“Then why,” Luna asks, “do they act like… a community? Families. Trades. Even schools on the docks.”

“Because, lass,” Eira’s voice echoes through the comm-crystal, crackling with static, “pirates are just folks who stopped believin’ in kings—but still believe in their own code.”

“Sounds poetic,” Randy says, “but I still don’t trust anyone who names their ship The Black Fang.”

Elowen snorts. “Coming from the guy who named his ship Nautilus—after a squid.”

“Correction,” Randy replies, pointing, “a legendary squid.”

Seraphina sighs. “Boys and their toys…”

Luna hides a faint smile, her tail curling. “Yeah, but this one’s our toy.”

Above the surface, storm clouds roll in. The wind grows sharp. The fleet nears the Sea Wolves’ hidden fortress—a labyrinth of stone coves and shipwrecks turned strongholds. The air tastes like salt and gunpowder.

“Ready yourselves,” Nu Wa calls from the deck of the Scourge, her voice echoing over the waves. “We’re enterin’ the Wolves’ den!”

Elsewhere…

Far from the sea, beneath marble domes and golden light—
the Nation of Elysium breathes in silence.

High Priestess Aethone kneels in prayer, her voice a trembling hymn beneath the glow of the sacred flame.
“May the Creator guide our hearts… and forgive what must be done.”

Behind her, Alfian stands by the grand cathedral window, his reflection ghosted across the stained glass.
The city of Elysium stretches far below—ivory towers, endless gardens, skies so clear they could shame the gods themselves.
From here, paradise looks perfect.
But in the reflection, Alfian looks nothing short of caged.

“…Shit…” he mutters, dragging a trembling hand through his hair. “How the hell did I end up in this mess?”
He exhales sharply, gaze falling on the silent figure kneeling at the altar—High Priestess Aethone, the last light of faith in a crumbling age.

He turns back to the window, voice low and bitter.
“Whatever… as long as there’s still time.”
His fingers press against the cold glass, eyes narrowing as distant thunder rumbles beyond the horizon.
“…Not from what’s coming.”

The sound grows—rolling, deeper, wrong.
Not thunder.
Not storm.
Something older. Something vast.

Above the radiant city, the clouds churn like a whirlpool of black ink.
And from the eye of that darkness… it awakens.

A Colossus, forged of black steel and blood-red runes, emerges from the storm.
Its eyes glow like molten suns as it gazes down upon the City of Light.
Aethone looks up mid-prayer, lips trembling.
“By the Creator… what… what have we done?”

The Colossus raises its arm.

Light fractures.
Sound dies.
Then—

BOOM.

A beam of crimson energy lances through the clouds, cutting across the cathedral spires like divine retribution. The ground quakes, streets split, and the air burns with the screams of the faithful.
The Kingdom of Elysium—the symbol of peace, wisdom, and purity—begins to fall.

Priests and knights rush through the blazing streets, trying desperately to evacuate the civilians.
“Get to the sanctum! Hurry!”
“The wards—they’re failing! The barrier’s gone!”
“Creator help us—!”

The golden banners of Elysium ignite, curling into ash.
The marble roads melt beneath rivers of fire.
A thousand prayers rise into the sky—only to vanish beneath the Colossus’ next step.

From the North, the Demon Kingdom’s forces pour in like a living shadow.
Fiendish airships blacken the sky; infernal beasts claw through the gates.
Elysium’s once-holy towers become tombstones under a blood-red dusk.

By nightfall, the city of angels has become a graveyard.
Refugees spill into the forests, the deserts, the mountains—anywhere that still breathes.
The divine bells toll one last time, cracked and broken, as smoke swallows the skyline.
Aethone kneels among the rubble, her once-golden robes now grey with ash.
Her hands shake as she clutches her staff, whispering through tears,
“Forgive us… Creator… for we were blind.”

Sky Island – Above the World

Far above the burning land, where clouds drift like silver rivers, peace still lingers.
The floating isle glides silently across the twilight sky.
Below it, the world burns unseen.

In the courtyard of ancient stone, Kline sits in deep meditation. Rings of alchemical symbols glow faintly around him, humming with rhythmic energy.
Each breath he takes resonates like the pulse of the earth itself.

Nearby, Nyx stands by a console of crystal and light, scanning the airwaves for signals. Her dark hair sways with the gentle wind, her golden eyes reflecting flickers of distant flame.

“Still trying to center yourself?” she asks quietly.

Kline opens one eye. “If I don’t, I’ll lose control.”

“You might want to look at this then,” Nyx says, her voice unshaken but heavy. She gestures to the holographic screen. The display flickers—then stabilizes into a horrifying view.

Elysium.
Or what remains of it.

Kline’s eyes widen. The once-holy capital is engulfed in black smoke. The Colossus looms above the ruins, half-shrouded by clouds.

“…It’s gone,” he mutters. “Elysium’s gone.”

Nyx folds her arms, tone cold but edged with grief.
“The Northern Demon Kingdom made their move faster than we expected.”

Kline clenches his fists. “So Azrael’s really gone that far…”

“The refugees are scattering across the continent. If this keeps up, the balance will collapse completely.”

He rises slowly, the runes fading around him. His expression hardens, determination burning in his eyes.
“Then we can’t just sit here anymore.”

Nyx glances at him, her lips curling faintly. “Finally decided to act, huh?”

The sky above Elysium burns red.
Smoke curls like dying prayers, smothering the once-pure clouds that crowned the city of gods.

Kline adjusts his goggles, their lenses reflecting the horizon where flame and storm meet.
“The age of gods is dying, Nyx,” he murmurs. “But maybe… it’s time mortals learned to fight back.”

A gust of wind rushes past, scattering the papers and glyphs surrounding their floating observatory. Beneath the clouds, a thunderous roar echoes — not of weather, but of something ancient moving among the ruins.
The Colossus—a giant born of the old world—marches through the ashes below.

Nyx closes her spellbook softly. Her dark hair catches the pale light of the sky, eyes gleaming with something between awe and sorrow.
“…And the world begins to change again,” she whispers.

The wind howls like a requiem.

Kingdom of Mana — Royal Palace

The echo of footsteps breaks through the marble hall.
Fu Xi stands before a circle of advisors, their faces grave, their voices hushed. The tension is thick enough to choke the air.

Then — the heavy door slams open.

“My Lord Fu Xi!!”
A guard stumbles in, blood staining his armor.

Fu Xi straightens. “What is it?”

“A messenger… from Elysium.”
The guard gulps, eyes trembling. “He’s… mortally wounded.”

Fu Xi wastes no time. He strides through the corridor, the sound of his robes snapping behind him. When he kneels beside the dying man, the scent of ash follows.

The man’s breathing is shallow, every word a battle. “I’m… Galvos… the mayor… of Elysium’s lower city… Please… take my people… our kingdom… is lost… my people… have nowhere left…”

His voice fades like a candle in the wind.
And then — silence.

Fu Xi closes the man’s eyes with his hand. His expression hardens.
“Call for Elysia… and the adventurers. We have a task for them.”

“Yes, my lord!!”
The guard runs off, echoing through the halls.

Gindol steps forward, frowning. “Are you certain this is wise, my lord? Elysium’s fall will shake every border. We may draw the attention of the Northern Kingdom.”

Fu Xi turns, the firelight glinting in his eyes. “We have no allies left to count on. If Elysium’s survivors come, we take them in. If they are soldiers, we train them. If they are broken—”
He clenches his fist. “—we make them stand again.”

Mina, standing near the council table, raises her staff. “Then I’ll join them. I’ll make sure no more lives are lost.”

Fu Xi nods, quietly grateful. “Then go.”

The Adventurers’ Guild — Mana Capital

The guild hall’s great doors swing open.
Elysia enters first, her silver hair glinting under the lanterns. Behind her are Oswald, Marlisa, Marian, and twenty more adventurers — blades sharp, eyes sharper.

Fu Xi meets them halfway. “Elysia. We need you to move now. A refugee wave from Elysium is coming. We need every soul you can save. Avoid direct contact with the Northern Demon Kingdom’s scouts. Be discreet. I’ll pay in gold or favor — whichever you prefer.”

Elysia’s smirk is brief but resolute. “Done.”

Oswald cracks his knuckles. “Another day, another rescue. You and Marlisa take the skies. I’ll move with Marian and the ground team.”

“Try not to get lost again,” Marlisa teases, wings unfolding behind her.

Oswald glares. “Funny.”

Fu Xi hands them a glowing compass. “There’s a hidden pass along the western ridge. The barrier there is weak — use it before it shifts.”

“Got it,” Elysia says, eyes narrowing. “Our job’s simple. Rescue the lost. No one dies.”

Oswald sighs. “Yeah, sure. You say that every time.”

“Don’t jinx it!”
The team shouts in unison before splitting paths — wings beating, boots pounding, banners of the adventurers fluttering like streaks of hope against the storm.

Vista Valley — Alliance City

“Son of a gun!”
Mickey slams his hat down as he stares at the horizon — a flood of refugees pouring toward the city gates. Dust clouds rise like a second dawn.

“What in the name of all that’s holy is goin’ on here!?” he barks, voice echoing across the wall.

A guard rushes to him. “Refugees, sir! From Elysium! They say the city’s been destroyed!”

Mickey hops off the wall, boots hitting the dirt with a heavy thud. He grabs the nearest man, trembling and starved.
“What’s the story, pal?”

The refugee swallows hard. “We… we’re from Elysium… there’s nothing left… nowhere to run…”

Mickey clicks his tongue, rubbing the back of his neck. “…Alright, listen up, people!”
He raises his hand, voice booming like thunder.
“Get these folks a place to stay! Food, water, medics — move it, pronto! We ain’t turnin’ away anyone today!”

A cheer rises from the townsfolk as they scramble to help. The air fills with shouts, the smell of smoke, and the distant echo of church bells.

From the shadows, Althaeon steps forward, his crimson cloak whipping in the rising wind. The faint glow of the burning horizon dances across his armor like liquid fire. His golden eyes narrow, reflecting the chaos below.

“Seems it’s started,” he murmurs—calm, yet heavy with the tone of prophecy.

Mickey exhales, his hands tightening inside his worn gloves. The scent of smoke and ash fills the air as he stares toward the heavens, where the sky itself burns orange.

“…Yeah.” His voice is low. “And it’s only the beginning.”

A distant thunder rolls—not from the clouds, but from the sea.

Far across the ocean, the tides churn beneath a blood-red moon.

The Blackwood, Silverfang, and Vorpal Beard fleets slice through the waves, their sails marked by scars of countless battles. Torches flicker along the decks, casting the pirates’ faces in ghostly light. The air hums with tension, musk, and salt—war is brewing among the waves.

And beyond the rising mist… another vessel glides silently beneath the surface.

The Nautilus.

Inside, the dim-blue glow of mana conduits lights the faces of its crew. Randy sits in the captain’s seat, eyes fixed on the sonar crystal as faint pulses echo across the glass.

“Closing in,” he mutters, his tone somewhere between focus and fatigue.

Luna stretches beside him, her tail swaying lazily, though her eyes glint with feline sharpness. “You’re enjoying this a little too much, aren’t you?”

Elowen crosses her arms. “If he crashes this thing, we’re all fish food.”

Seraphina smirks from her seat, spear resting across her knees. “Then let’s make sure we take a few Sea Wolves down with us.”

The hum of the Nautilus deepens, like a heartbeat beneath the waves. Outside, shadows move—massive hulls, prowling in the depths like predators.

Above the dark ocean, storm clouds begin to gather.

The Sea Wolves Clan waits ahead… unaware that the tide of battle is about to turn against them.

And so, beneath the veil of the sea, with pirates converging and empires burning, a new chapter in fate quietly unfolds.

To be continued…