Leo sat slouched on his throne, one hand propping up his chin as he watched Marco through the shimmering vision of his domain. Even now, as Marco stood over the necromancer's corpse, his breath ragged, the man was far from ready.
Marco's sudden surge in strength had pushed him from a G-rank—barely above a common fighter—to something closer to a D-rank. A leap that would take most people years. But raw power didn't mean control, and Marco still moved like an amateur, relying on adrenaline instead of skill. If Leo hadn't intervened, he would have died.
He flexed his fingers, feeling the traces of mana still drifting through the air around Marco's battlefield. Normally, a necromancer like Carter needed to see his circle of magic for his Illusion to work, whether drawn in on a parchment or glowing in the air. But inside Leo's domain, things worked differently.
The link he'd formed with Marco let him infuse his own mana directly into the space around the man, weaving it into invisible threads that spread outward and clung to Carter. With nothing but the force of his will, Leo shaped the mana into an illusion powerful enough to confuse the necromancer's senses and disrupt his spellcasting.
In the outside world, that would have taken an A-rank's finesse, the ability to cast without visible marks, commanding magic through sheer mastery. But here, three things worked in Leo's favor.
First, his domain amplified everything he did, turning effort into authority. Second, Carter was a weak opponent—low rank, barely trained in countering illusions. Third, Leo admitted to himself, he'd been lucky. The idea had come to him in the moment, and if it had failed, he was ready to fall back on a simpler tactic—projecting a visible sigil into the air, just as he'd done when he'd first tested his name-mark in the real world. Either way, Marco would have survived.
A thin smile curved his lips at the thought.
In the vision, Marco slowly knelt, staring down at the necromancer's broken body. He didn't seem to understand that it was over.
Leo considered staying to watch what the man would do next, but at that moment, something tugged at his attention. He felt a pull like a hand brushing his shoulder—someone calling to him from outside the domain.
He split a portion of his awareness, shifting part of his focus back into the real world. The image of the jungle and the salt breeze flooded his senses, and he realized it was Briva's voice, calling him.
With a final glance at Marco through the mirror, Leo let go of the connection completely. The pull of the domain faded as he withdrew his mana and severed his presence within it. He didn't have time to linger—Marco had survived, and for now, that was enough.
In one smooth shift, he returned fully to the real world. The salty ocean air rushed against his skin, cool and damp. He felt the sand beneath his boots and heard the rhythmic crash of waves just ahead. Behind him, the dense jungle loomed, dark and tangled. His breathing steadied, his thoughts gathered in a single place again. The rest, he would leave to Marco.
…
Marco stood staring at the necromancer's corpse for what felt like an hour before his limbs finally obeyed him again. His breath came in shaky gasps. He glanced around and without letting himself think too much, he walked to a small shed beside the Lamoriks' house. He knew they kept tools there. Inside, he found a shovel leaning in the corner. His hands trembled as he picked it up.
He moved fast, digging with desperate energy. Every shovelful of dirt was flung aside in a frenzy. Part of him was terrified that Carter's body would suddenly stand back up, just like the others had. But he also knew he needed proof—if he buried everything, no one would believe him. So once the pit was ready, he dragged the limp corpse over and kept the necromancer's head. He forced himself not to retch. Then he buried the body, packing the earth down hard, and set the severed head aside.
When that was done, he turned to the larger corpses. The sun was already peeking over the rooftops, streaking the dirt with pale gold. He spent what felt like hours digging a second, broader grave. He could barely lift his arms by the time he hauled the mangled bodies, one by one, and laid them side by side. The sight of them—bloated, torn—would be seared into his mind forever.
By the time he finished, villagers had begun to rise. Doors opened up and down the street, and people stepped out, squinting in confusion. One by one they saw the fresh earth, the blood on Marco's hands, the head of Carter resting near his boots. A crowd gathered in hushed, fearful silence.
The village elder finally stepped forward. He was old but still sturdy, and he kept his voice even. "Marco," he said, "what's going on here?"
Marco wiped sweat and blood from his brow. He swallowed, trying to find the right words. He still didn't know if that god—the Creator—wanted his name spoken aloud. So he decided to leave that part out for now. He raised Carter's severed head so everyone could see.
"This," he said hoarsely, "is what happened. Carter was a necromancer. He killed the Lamoriks and tried to kill me too."
The elder's eyes widened. He stepped to the edge of the grave, peered down at the bodies, then back at Marco. "You're saying you killed all of these yourself?"
Marco shook his head. "No. I killed him. The others…they only stopped moving after he died." He drew a slow breath. "We were lucky. He said he planned to kill the whole village."
The crowd broke into low murmurs. The elder nodded slowly, though his expression stayed wary. "This needs to be reported to the city guards. They'll send someone to investigate. Until then, Marco…I need you to stay under watch."
Marco understood. He didn't blame them. If the situation were reversed, he wouldn't have believed it either.
"Of course," he said quietly.
Two young men stepped forward and led him away. They guided him to a small house near the edge of the village and posted themselves at the door, watching him with uneasy eyes. Marco sank down on a bench inside, feeling exhaustion finally catch up with him. But beneath the bone-deep weariness, something else stirred—a quiet, steady certainty. The god he'd prayed to, the only one who had answered, was real. He had pledged himself to the Creator, and even now, sitting here with dried blood on his hands and the fear of his neighbors all around him, he felt no regret. Only a strange sense of purpose he hadn't known he needed.
…
After Leo carefully sketched the circles from Briva's sword onto a parchment, he handed the weapon back to her with a nod of thanks. The group spent two more days on the island, using the time to rest and prepare. For Leo, it was an opportunity to fully learn the new light-enchanting spell he had been eager to master. He spent hours each day practicing the circles and refining the delicate mana patterns. Between study sessions, he also trained with his Blood Slash technique, though it still took him nearly a full minute to cast. That was far too long to be practical in a fight, and he knew he would need more time to improve.
By the time they set sail again, Briva had taken more than one bath to scrub away the memory of the jungle. She seemed determined to be as clean as humanly possible before another day passed. Soon enough, they left the island behind and began their next leg across the open sea.
On the evening of the second day back at sea, Leo found Arthur standing near the railing at the edge of the ship, staring across the rolling waves. The evening air cooled, tinged with salt and the faint cries of gulls.
"How long until we reach the beast's territory?" Leo asked.
Arthur didn't turn around. "We're already in it. Now, we just have to find it."
"Don't we need the Red Rose Pirates?" Leo pressed.
"If we run into the creature before them, I'll contact them," Arthur replied simply.
Leo nodded. "Okay."
The last few days had gone as smoothly as he could have hoped. Liam was back in his mansion, waiting for the celebration his father had arranged in his honor. His siblings and most of his relatives regarded him with nothing but thinly veiled hatred now, all except Steve. His parents kept up their charade of affection, though Leo suspected Liam saw right through it. Thankfully, he hadn't let any of it make him reckless. He was playing the long game.
Meanwhile, Marco remained confined in the house under watch in his village. An investigator from the city had already arrived to question him, though no official verdict had been made yet. The most difficult thing for Marco to explain was the new white strand of hair on his head. When asked, he told the investigator it appeared after the necromancer had used some kind of spell on him.
As for Alina, she was back in her city, training daily. From what Leo had glimpsed through his domain, she'd been relentless, pushing her skills further with each passing day. By his estimation, she was already a D minus rank assassin and also a diviner, and with his blessing she could easily reach C+ in time.
His thoughts were interrupted when the lookout called from the rigging above. "I see a ship!"
Arthur immediately straightened. "Whose is it?"
The lookout spent a few seconds peering through his spyglass. "It's the Red Rose!"
Arthur walked closer to the edge of the deck, his expression thoughtful. "Speak of the devil."
Leo joined him, curiosity sharpening his focus. He'd heard countless stories about the Red Rose Pirates—supposedly the most dangerous crew on the seas—but he had never seen them himself.
Soon, a massive ship drifted into view, its silhouette black against the last glow of evening. A red rose was painted across its main sail, easily the size of a small house. Compared to Arthur's vessel, it was nearly twice as large, its hull bristling with reinforced plating and gunports.
The Red Rose ship glided past them, heading toward a small island not far off their starboard side.
Arthur raised a hand and pointed. "We'll anchor there."
"Aye aye, captain," came the chorus of voices from the crew.
Slowly, the ship began to turn, the sails catching the wind as the hull swung toward the looming island. Leo leaned against the railing and watched the Red Rose ship vanish behind a low rise of black rock. Whatever happens next, he knew they were getting close to something that would change everything.
Each ship anchored on opposite sides of the island as a precaution. The captains agreed that if anything went wrong, having their vessels separated could prevent them from both being destroyed at once. Smaller boats were lowered into the waves, and the crews rowed ashore beneath the dim, fading light of dusk.
Arthur led the landing party from his ship, taking Leo, Briva, and two of his more experienced sailors. He left the deck in Laid's hands with instructions to be ready to weigh anchor at a moment's notice.
From the Red Rose ship, Selina disembarked with four others. They moved with the smooth coordination of seasoned fighters, their weapons plainly visible. Among them was an elven man whose mere presence seemed to radiate silent menace. He stood a full head taller than Selina, lean and hard as iron, with long silver hair and pale blue eyes that took everything in at once.
Selina eyed Arthur's group as they climbed over the rocks to meet them. "I see you've picked up some new members," she said dryly.
"And you've finally decided to let your crew be seen," Arthur replied. There was no hostility in his voice.
Selina gave a small smile. "Introductions can wait. We have more pressing concerns." She adjusted the strap of her curved sword across her shoulder. "Have you discovered anything useful about this creature?"
Arthur reached into his satchel and withdrew a small leather-bound book, worn at the edges. "Everything I've learned is in here." He handed it over without hesitation.
Selina flipped it open and began skimming the pages. The further she read, the more her expression shifted. At last, her eyes snapped up to him, wide with incredulity. "How in the hell did you get all this information?"
Arthur's face remained impassive. "I'm afraid I can't tell you that, yet."
Her gaze lingered on him for a moment before she snapped the book closed. "Fine. Whatever your source is, this is valuable. We've also found a way to draw the beast out."
Arthur's eyebrows rose. "You have?"
Selina nodded, her eyes flicking briefly to the elf behind her. "Yes. I'll share the details soon, but not yet. For now, my crew is exhausted—we've been scouting for days without rest."
Arthur inclined his head in agreement. "Then we'll camp here for the night. At dawn, we can prepare for the hunt."
Selina looked around at the rugged shoreline, then back at her people. "Agreed."
Without further ceremony, the two crews began unpacking supplies. Tents went up in the shadows of the trees, and watch rotations were set. The salt-heavy wind blew steadily in from the sea, whispering across the dark rocks as if the island itself were listening to every word they spoke.