As the Molten Ridge vessel sailed across the vast expanse of the ocean, Zay and Renzo stood at the bow. Zay leaned heavily on Renzo's shoulder, still dizzy from the lingering effects of his coma.
"There's an island…" Zay murmured, his amethyst eyes locking onto the silhouette in the distance.
They stood in silence, watching as the island slowly grew larger on the horizon. Twenty minutes passed in stillness, the only sound the relentless crash of waves against the ship's hull.
"We've seen this island… for two months. It's always been there, like it's phasing in and out of existence, vanishing just as we get close. But now… we can see it. Closer than ever before."
The voice echoed from behind them, smooth but carrying an edge of tension. Zay and Renzo turned, meeting the gaze of the commander. Clad in pristine white armor, the commander stood with his greatsword resting against his shoulder. He exhaled deeply, eyes fixed on the island as the ship rocked beneath their feet.
"There's no sign of green," the commander observed, his voice low. "Only stone and rock. A port. Three other ships anchored. And… something else." He paused, eyes narrowing as they scanned the glowing orange lights near the shore. "Looks like a town, near the water."
The wind howled louder as the ship shifted course, moving toward the island with an unrelenting pull. The glow of the lights grew stronger, casting eerie reflections over the water.
"I won't pretend I like the idea of working with prisoners... but keep your eyes open when we dock. We were supposed to go to Ozeal, not whatever this island is, but we're docking here. Be prepared, and try not to die." The commander said, turning around and making his way back to the helm. He entered a door, which slammed shut behind him.
The clouds above parted, and the moon became visible. Stars scattered across the dark sky, casting their light onto the ship.
A loud ringing sound resonated through the vessel as they approached the docks, and suddenly, the ship stopped. Prisoners walked out onto the bow, all of them lining up beside Zay and Renzo. Silva and the commander—the only guards alive—stepped out from the door and walked down the wooden steps, gripping their spear and greatsword tightly in their hands.
Silva carried a katana in her other hand, which she threw toward Renzo. He caught it with ease.
The commander had a katana in his other hand, which he threw to Zay. He caught it as well. The other prisoners had stolen weapons from dead guards two months ago and had been using the same weapons ever since.
There were a total of ten people alive on the ship: the two guards and eight prisoners.
Nova sighed as she looked ahead while the commander walked forward, dropping wooden planks. The planks connected to a stone pathway on the port. He took the first step and walked onto the stone pathway, followed by four prisoners. All of them had their hands on their weapons, ready to draw them at a moment's notice.
"Here goes nothing..." Renzo muttered under a whispered breath as he descended the wooden planks. He followed behind the four prisoners, with Silva walking behind him. The rest of the prisoners got off after her, and Zay was the last one to step onto the stone pathway. Ahead of them, a town lay in view.
Orange lights from sphere-shaped lanterns lit the ground, casting a warm glow. Pillars of white wood shone orange from the lanterns, as if a festival were taking place.
...
There wasn't a single soul visible anywhere—except for the ten people from the Molten Ridge, of course.
"The hell is this place?" One of the prisoners asked cautiously, glaring around the town.
He spotted one building, its sign hanging crookedly, half of it broken off. He bent his body to read it aloud: "Bar." He straightened up and turned back to the group.
The commander scanned the area, his expression unreadable, as if the place had been abandoned. He exhaled before tightening his grip on his greatsword and continued forward.
As the commander began to walk, his boots tapped against the stone before shifting onto something softer. He looked down.
Dirt.
The road stretched ahead, uneven and dry. He stopped moving, his gaze lifting slowly.
The entire town was layered in dust and soil—except the path they stood on, the one that led from the port. Stone ended where the port stopped. Dirt began everywhere else.
"Odd…" his voice carried low, almost lost in the mist. "The whole ground's dirt, yet the path from the port's stone. Why not just finish it off with the same material?"
One of the prisoners stepped ahead. A tall, broad man with sunburnt skin and a scar down his jaw. He sniffed the air, squinting.
"I used to work construction," he said. "Been around sites like this my whole life. Four buildings down—smells like freshly cut wood. That's our first stop. But…"
He pointed.
"…they've got four stacks of stone in the corner over there."
The group turned to look.
Huge stone blocks—stacked like towers, untouched. Maybe abandoned.
"Weird," a smaller prisoner muttered.
Without another word, the guards moved. Their boots dragged through mud, each step leaving a messy trail.
Zay didn't mind the dirt. Neither did Renzo. They'd marched through worse.
The prisoners followed as mud began coating their feet. But Nova? Not a speck touched her. Mist coiled around her ankles, swirling like a living veil. Her steps left no prints.
When they reached the building, a crooked sign hung from a single chain, swinging in the breeze.
No one read it. No one had to.
From inside—grunts, breathing, a rhythmic groaning.
"That's the one," the ex-builder said, walking up and knocking once.
No answer.
So he lifted his foot and crashed it through the door. Wood splintered inward. The group stepped in.
Seven wooden pillars held up the roof. Tables were scattered throughout the open space, candles flickering atop each one. In the middle sat a bar—long and carved from dark oak. Behind it, a man.
He wore a navy suit and a black tie. Light brown hair slicked back, catching the candlelight. Hazel eyes watched them as he spoke—his voice flowing in an unknown language.
None of them responded.
Zay blinked.
His Resonance Lens flickered. Sigils shimmered midair, catching each sound and reordering them.
'Worth a shot,' Zay thought, stepping forward.
"What's your name?"
His words passed through the Lens, twisting and translating mid-air. The man nodded slowly.
"Zeke…" His tone was smooth, melodic.
Zay tilted his head. "What is this place?"
Zeke didn't answer right away. He reached under the bar, pulled out a bottle, popped the cork, and poured.
The liquid shimmered as it flowed into the glass. He slid it across the counter. The flame of a nearby candle flickered as it passed.
Zay stepped forward, weaving past the tables, and sat down. on a stool. Then Renzo and Nova decided to join him. Renzo on his left. Nova on his right.
He picked up the glass, gave it a swirl, then drank.
No burn. No aftertaste. Just a soft warmth that spread in his chest.
"What was that?"
Zeke smiled.
"Doesn't have a name yet. Still perfecting the recipe."
He poured a glass for each of them as the two guards, and the remaining prisoners sat down at the bar. They didn't ask. He didn't explain. The bottle vanished under the counter again.
Then—
Heavy breathing echoed from a hallway behind the stage.
Groaning followed. Then a woman's voice, loud and drawn-out, followed by a man's laugh.
Zay didn't flinch.
"So…" he began slowly, eyes still on Zeke. "You going to tell me what this place is?"
Zeke rested his hands on the counter.
"It's a place where people sell themselves. Temporarily. We call the act Bolard around here. You might call it something else—prostitution."
He gestured around casually.
"Also doubles as a woodcutting factory."
Zay blinked, fake-coughed, and nodded slowly. "Right…"
"This place is a damn prostitution house."
Everyone turned toward the ex-construction worker.
He raised both hands. "Hey, I swear I smelled fresh lumber."
Zay chuckled. "I wasn't finished. It is also a woodcutting factory."
They all turned back to Zeke.
Outside, soft rain began to patter against the roof—faint and rhythmic. Almost like a heartbeat in the dark.
From the hallway to the right—just past the rows of flickering candles and beneath a rusted lantern swaying from the ceiling—a door creaked open.
No one looked. Their attention stayed with the drinks, the tension between Zeke's calm voice and the groaning echoes behind him.
But just beyond their gaze, a woman stepped into view. She wore a flowing pink dress that shimmered faintly with each step—too elegant for a place like this, too soft for the grit in the air. Her long dark brown hair spilled down her shoulders in a tangled mess, strands clinging to her flushed cheeks.
She froze mid-step, eyes wide as they locked on the group.
Seven shirtless men, their torsos dusted with dirt and dried blood, muscles taut beneath the faint candlelight. Scars like maps carved into some of their skin. Two more stood to the side—head to toe in pristine white armor, barely dented. Like statues. Silent guardians. And then there was a woman she looked at, seated beside one of the men, mist dancing at her feet, her form wrapped tight in black fabric that hugged every contour of her body.
The woman stared.
Her breath hitched.
A high-pitched squeak escaped her lips.
And then—splat.
A line of blood streamed from her nose.
She turned, and bolted.
Down the corridor. Bare feet slapping against the wooden floor. Her steps echoed through the building.
Thump. Thump. Thump-thump-thump.
Someone blinked.
"…Did anyone else hear that?" Zay asked casually, not even looking up.
"Yeah," Renzo muttered, glancing at the hallway behind the stage. "Running. Fast."
Nova sipped her drink like she didn't hear a thing.
Zeke didn't even glance back.
"Happens a lot," he said.
Zay leaned back in his stool, letting the quiet return, eyes narrowed slightly as the footsteps faded into silence.
"…This place is starting to feel stranger by the second."
Rain kept tapping on the roof.
The candlelight flickered again.
And behind them, somewhere deep in the halls of the building, the woman tried to stop her bleeding nose—still haunted by the sight of too many beautiful people in one room.