Silver Sand Bay.
Territory of Glosa, one of the Three Overlords of the Western Isles, and the center of the islands’ slave trade.
A large, unmarked ship was docked at the bay’s harbor. That in itself wasn’t unusual.
Many who came here preferred anonymity, hiding identifying symbols on their vessels was commonplace.
What no one else knew was that this particular ship carried a human Hero.
On the second floor of the ship’s cabin, the golden-haired Hero, Sophia, peered through the slit of a curtain at the port outside.
“I thought you wouldn’t dock at such a major island.”
Beside her, the priest Samuel answered respectfully: “Lady Sophia, our next destination is an underwater dungeon. Some necessary items can only be purchased on a large island like this.”
Sophia nodded, understanding.
She needed to level quietly, without drawing attention.Hunting lost souls at the edge of the mist had brought her up to level 22, but that was her limit there.
Inside the mist lurked stronger monsters, but the danger was too great—it wasn’t worth considering.
Their new target was the Tidal Sanctuary, a dungeon beneath the sea.
Its special location left it in an awkward state.
Rich in resources, yet the difficulty of entry kept most adventurers away.
It was, in truth, one of the least-visited dungeons.
And that was exactly what they wanted—Sophia had no objections.
Her gaze swept across the docks.
Under the blazing sun, ragged slaves, dressed only in rough sackcloth, hauled heavy cargo under the lash of overseers’ whips.
The crack of whips cut the air; even from here she could faintly hear them.
Another group of slaves, chains clinking, were herded aboard a slaver’s ship, bound for gods knew where.
Watching this, Sophia suddenly asked in a flat voice: “The master of this island—is he one of the humans I’m supposed to protect?”
For once, Samuel did not answer immediately.
Only after a long pause did his voice sound from behind her:
“Lady Sophia, I understand your meaning.
But sadly, yes.
At least, for now.
The Church opposes slavery as well.
But no matter how vile the island lords are, at least for the moment, they stand with humanity.
Against the might of the Empire, we have no choice but to unite every possible power.”
At least for now.
Sophia understood his meaning, and the reasoning.
But the sight before her eyes was still hard to bear.
…
When the guards returned with supplies and the ship prepared to set sail, something unexpected happened.
“Seal the docks! Nobody moves! No ship is to leave port!”
A thunderous roar split the harbor’s clamor.
Heavy footsteps and clashing armor followed as a hulking figure, the golden-ranked Commander of Silver Sand Bay, stormed onto the pier with fully armed soldiers at his back.
The bustling dock fell silent. Laborers froze mid-motion, merchants blanched, and slaves cowered in fear.
“Listen well!” the giant bellowed. “I am Oruk, Commander of Silver Sand Bay! By Lord Glosa’s command, we hunt the assassin who murdered Lord Horn! That bastard is hiding on this dock—or aboard one of these ships!”
The name Horn—the right-hand man and secretary of Glosa, second only to him in Silver Sand Bay—sent a ripple of shock through the crowd.
“From now on!” Oruk slammed his massive spiked club into the stone floor, scattering chips of rock. “All ships halt loading! No departure! Every vessel will be searched top to bottom! Any who resist will be slain! Not even a fly leaves this harbor without my say!”
Soldiers descended like wolves, driving people back, boarding ships by force. Shipmasters and sailors dared not resist—none would test Oruk’s wrath, nor Glosa’s.
Amid the chaos, Sophia’s unmarked ship calmly raised its anchor. Sailors loosened the moorings with steady hands, preparing to depart.
“Stop! Didn’t you hear me? No ship leaves! Submit to inspection!” Oruk’s roar halted a “sailor” at the gangplank.
The man froze, his hand drifting to the sword at his waist, eyes like blades fixed on Oruk.
An invisible, suffocating pressure swept over the commander, making his fat body tense instinctively.
A master!
Alarm bells screamed in his mind.
Forcing bravado, Oruk thundered: “Lord Glosa himself commands this! Would you defy him?”
The “sailor” gave no reply, only sharpened his gaze, his grip unshakable on the hilt.
And then—seven or eight more figures appeared silently along the ship’s rail. Their calm eyes weighed on him.
Every one of them radiated danger equal to the first.
What kind of ship was this!?
Just as he hesitated, a middle-aged man in plain dark clothes stepped onto the deck. His aura was steady, immovable as a mountain.
He didn’t spare Oruk a glance. He only gave a sharp hand gesture to the “sailor.”
At once, the sailor ignored the fuming commander, yanked the gangplank aboard, and let the sails swell with wind.
The ship moved—smooth, unstoppable, plowing through the sea.
“Bastards! Stop, damn you!” Oruk howled, muscles bulging as he raised his massive club.
But in the end, he did not strike.
That man on the deck—clearly the captain of the guard—hadn’t released any aura, yet Oruk’s golden-rank instincts screamed—
If he attacked, he would die.
Absolutely die.
Pale-faced, frozen stiff, he could only watch helplessly as the mysterious ship defied his blockade and sailed out of Silver Sand Bay.
When he regained himself, he unleashed his fury on the unlucky souls still at the port.
“Search! Search every inch! Every crate! Tear the place apart until you find the killer! Lock down the harbor! Defy me and die!”
…
Half an hour later, the ship was far out at sea.
A hand gripped the railing. Moments later, a drenched young girl pulled herself aboard.
If Dylan had been here, he would have run to embrace her—his long-lost daughter, Bella.
But before her now stood only the waiting captain of the guard, and Sophia watching from the deck.
Bella didn’t seem surprised to be discovered. Silver light flickered in her eyes as she asked cautiously: “You… are with the Church, aren’t you?”