Chapter 78

Chapter 78

The final island of the Seven Archipelagos that Radan has not yet subdued is the sixth island, the domain of the pirate crew known as the “Sea Wolves.” A large wooden fortress dominates the island’s center.

“…Are you telling me we were attacked?” A man scowled deeply.

A long vertical scar marked his face, and his right leg was a jewel-studded prosthetic. This was Tertogan, chief of the Sea Wolves, the one who had ravaged a part of Raksas’s domain and earned the epithet “Destroyer.”

“Yes, the loss of contact suggests that is what happened,” a male sailor answered, his anxiety clear as his eyes darted around nervously. Tertogan grimaced and spoke again.

“Then, who was it that struck us?”

“Ssshh…”

“It appears it was that wretch, Radan.”

The sailor delivered his report, and for a long while, Tertogan said nothing.

“Hey.”

“Yes?”

“Come here.”

“Come here… what?”

“I told you, come closer.”

Tertogan beckoned with his artificial hand. The sailor, though fearful and reluctant, shuffled forward.

The next instant—

*Splat!*

The head of the sailor, who had worn a nervous look moments before, burst apart. Blood sprayed, turning the office into a scene of carnage. The headless body dropped to the floor with a heavy thud.

“Damn it!”

*Bang! Crack! Smash!*

But Tertogan’s rage was not spent. He seized the headless corpse by its collar and drove his fist into it again and again. The skull, save for the jaw, was pulverized; the place where the heart should be was now a cavernous wound; the right arm tore away like a discarded plaything.

*Bam!*

Still not satisfied, he hurled the mangled body to the ground, stomped on it repeatedly, and then, breathing heavily, returned to his seat, leaving the grotesquely contorted remains behind.

Just then, the firmly shut office door opened and a man walked in.

“Boss.”

“Get this thing out of my sight.”

The man gave a short nod and, with a jerk of his head, signaled other sailors to enter and drag the horrifically disfigured corpse away.

“…How many more are required?”

“According to that individual, we still need a minimum of 1,500.”

“Tsk, after all the lives we’ve already given, it’s still that many?”

“Yes.”

“No, that’s too long. That fiend Radan will be pressing his assault any moment now…”

As Tertogan grumbled in discontent, the man who had entered, Deputy Leader Zelenka, spoke with hesitation.

“Boss, wouldn’t it be fine regardless? We have those creatures. If we fight at sea, we should be victorious, right?”

At Zelenka’s words, Tertogan stood and walked to the window looking out from the office. The wooden fortress was in view, and the body from his earlier outburst was being consumed—*chomp-chomp! crunch!*—by monstrous beings.

From afar, their basic shape was not so different from a human’s.

Their skin, however, was covered in green scales, unlike a human’s, and their faces were reminiscent of deep-sea fish. Most strikingly, their pupils were a solid, painted black, utterly vacant and devoid of any feeling. This indicated they were fundamentally different from humans, not just in form, but in their very nature.

—

Hundreds of the mermen swarmed over the single corpse, like a school of ravenous piranhas, their mouths smeared with dark, reddish blood. Watching this, Tertogan thought:

‘They are powerful, it’s true.’

He knew well the strength of the mermen. Their effectiveness on land was questionable, but he was certain that in a naval engagement, the mermen alone could handily repel Radan’s vast fleet.

The true problem, however, was Radan himself—the great pirate who had united the Six Archipelagos and the master of the “White Moon.”

‘That man is a monster.’

Tertogan’s brow furrowed involuntarily at a memory from the past.

It was when Radan held only one island, and he, along with the pirates of the Six Archipelagos, had waged a war to defeat him and carve up one of the islands. He remembered Radan moving with impossible freedom underwater, ripping apart blessed captains with his bare hands, and single-handedly sending more than a dozen ships to the depths.

‘It’s still not sufficient.’

Because of this, Tertogan knew on a primal level that even with the mermen, the coming conflict would be inadequate. Simultaneously, a voice echoed in his memory—one that had come to him as he awaited death at Radan’s hands, offering a method to kill him:

‘Do you not desire to obtain power?’

The voice belonged to a man who promised the power not only to defeat Radan, but to dominate the world.

‘Offer human flesh to the mermen. Continue the sacrifices, gather the souls, earn their favor, and you will ascend to godhood.’

Tertogan picked up the object the man had given him—a pale teal artifact with fang-like protrusions on all sides. He stared at it intently, and as the mermen finished their grisly meal, a green light flowed from the scene directly into the artifact.

After a silent moment, he spoke to Zelenka.

“What was the number you said was still needed?”

“At least 1,500,” Zelenka answered.

Hearing this, Tertogan recalled once more the words of the man shrouded in black.

‘Do you not wish to gain power?’

As he contemplated the man’s proposition again, Tertogan murmured under his breath, “Perhaps a path exists…”

He gazed silently at the fortress for a long while.

“A path, truly…”

In Tertogan’s eyes, as they looked outward, there was now a faint but unmistakable trace of madness—a glint of green insanity.

***

The Appraiser Alexion is a person Alon would prefer not to meet unless an artifact made it unavoidable.

First, because Alexion’s warped character was sure to provoke Alon’s urge to kill.

Second, because Alexion financed the underground factions in the slums of Raksas, making him a challenging man to get an audience with.

Therefore, Alon had prepared himself for this meeting, expecting both difficulty in locating Alexion and inevitable aggravation once they met.

Yet…

*Clink! Roll-roll-roll…*

“S-S-Sorry…!!!”

Alexion, who had been given Heinkel’s ring and a small sword for appraisal, fumbled and dropped the “Insignia of the Blind One’s Contract” with trembling hands, scrambling to retrieve it. Alon’s expression turned odd. Alexion’s look matched his in-game illustration, but his demeanor was entirely altered.

Naturally, Alon understood the reason for this shift. He stole a glance at Radan, who stood by observing calmly with a benign smile. As Alexion, still shaking, fought to begin his appraisal, Alon thought:

– I only brought him here with respect, without any violence…

Judging by Alexion’s state, that seemed highly unlikely. Alon maintained his puzzled look until Alexion finally spoke.

“It’s… it’s finished!”

“So soon?”

The fact that Alexion had completed the appraisal in under 10 minutes startled Alon, who knew the process normally required a minimum of two hours.

“Y-Yes…!”

Alexion bobbed his head repeatedly as he handed the two artifacts back to Alon.

‘…It’s genuine.’

Upon taking them, Alon confirmed the appraisals were done, as the once dull gray artifacts now showed vivid colors. Heinkel’s ring had shifted from gray to a red hue, and the treasure from the colony vault now possessed a deep, clear luster.

“You’re quick,” Alon commented.

“You didn’t just hurry and do a sloppy job, did you?” Radan asked.

“N-No! I would never!”

Alexion’s jittery reply and his trembling hands made Alon feel a twinge of sympathy.

“…The appraisal is done.”

“Is that so, brother?”

“Yes, let him go now,” Alon said.

At that, Radan nodded and issued a simple command.

“Hey, take him away.”

The pirates, who had been waiting for the order, promptly entered and began to usher Alexion out.

“Thank you! Thank you so much! Thank you for your mercy!” Alexion cried, tears springing to his eyes as if he were being released from the depths of the underworld.

“Brother, is our business here truly concluded?” Alon asked.

“…Yes, because of this, a trip to Raksas is unnecessary.”

“That is a relief, brother,” Radan answered with a chuckle. Alon, sitting across from him, posed another question.

“Speaking of which, are you absolutely certain you brought him here in a polite manner?”

“Of course. I was entirely respectful. He was probably just frightened by my reputation.”

‘Maybe he was simply overwhelmed by his infamy…’

After considering Radan’s answer for a moment, Alon chose to accept it and asked another thing that had piqued his interest.

“How did you manage to find Alexion in a single day? Given how well he must have been hidden, it should have been nearly impossible without dismantling the entire underworld network.”

“Ah, those people?”

“Yes. So you did encounter them, correct?”

“Well, I met them, but we didn’t exactly have a discussion…”

“…? If you didn’t talk, how did you find him?”

“……”

“…You *did* bring Alexion here politely, right?”

“Alexion was brought here politely, brother,” Radan replied after a brief pause, a sly grin spreading across his face. Alon, instinctively grasping the method of Alexion’s retrieval, felt a cold shiver run down his back.

‘The Five Great Sins… that aspect of him isn’t fully developed yet, is it?’

He resolved to keep a more vigilant watch on Radan.

***

While Alon was occupied with these reflections at the archipelago, events were transpiring at the southern estate of the Maon Territory, within the Duchy of Drua near the southern border with Caliban. This estate served as the main base for Pigule, an organization that grew its power through the trafficking of human flesh and drugs, operating out of Drua.

Only a short time earlier:

“P-Please, spare me…!”

Darte, the leader of Pigule, a man who had processed thousands of people into drugs without a flicker of remorse, was now shuddering in terror, his eyes brimming with fear and tears.

“I was only following orders! I beg you, show mercy—!”

He fought desperately for his life.

But—

*Crack!*

In an instant, his entire body was wrenched into an unnatural shape, entangled by purple threads, and he expired in a gush of blood.

The man who watched the corpse fall to the floor without a word then turned his gaze to the window, which offered a view of the entire estate. The grounds were strewn with bodies—some cleaved in two, others embedded in the estate’s walls, and many more who had died with their eyes frozen wide in horror.

Corpses were everywhere.

The man observing this brutal scene without a trace of emotion was no ordinary person—he was Deus.

—

“Did you discover anything?” Deus asked the empty room.

A moment later, a man emerged from the shadows behind him.

“Hidan.”

At Deus’s call, Hidan gave a slight bow.

“As I reported before, this does not appear to be the main headquarters of the directive.”

“The ones above?”

“Yuna is collecting intelligence, but the chain of command is intricate, likely designed to evade detection, so it is taking time.”

“I see.”

“However, we have identified the nobles who orchestrated this.”

“Their names?”

“They are nobles from Asteria.”

Deus was silent for a beat.

“Hidan, you have made the task of gathering information remarkably efficient.”

“It is nothing. Yuna also believes it is for the Great Moon… as does the entire Blue Moon.”

“I see.”

Deus continued.

“What are the names of these nobles?”

“It appears to include Count Barthez and Count Brielle, plus two others.”

“…?”

“What is your intention? In my view, eliminating the two primary instigators should serve as sufficient warning and deter future incidents.”

“Kill every one of them.”

Without a moment’s hesitation.

“I am not so forgiving as to let live those who attempted to harm the Great Moon.”

His eyes shone with a sinister light.

“So, slaughter them all. Leave none alive.”

He uttered these chilling words in a low voice, his gaze filled with frenzy.

“All for the Great Moon.”

With that, the two figures, having signaled the end of Pigule’s demise, vanished. Another organization had been wiped from history.