Since Mikael returned with Elhaan, the island had lingered on the horizon for three more days before finally vanishing into the sea, as all legends claimed it would.
In that time, Mikael had salvaged what he could—some treasure, Black Mask's sword, and the remains of the crew who never made it back. Elhaan had been unconscious for most of those three days, his body recovering slowly. Half his magical strength had returned now, though his steps were still heavy and his voice faint.
"There's an old saying," Mikael muttered, watching him stir, "the older a magician gets, the stronger he becomes…"
He smirked. "Who knows. Maybe you'll turn into a storm next week."
Elhaan didn't respond—just exhaled slowly, a green flicker dancing over his fingers.
There was a bigger problem: Mikael had almost no crew left to man the ship.
It had been nearly a month since the island. Since then, Mikael had run the vessel entirely alone—steering, sailing, cooking, fighting off storms. It was hard. It was maddening. But he was getting faster, sharper, and leaner by the day.
The small red-haired girl had recovered from the trauma. She now helped quietly where she could—tying ropes, carrying supplies, keeping lookout from the lower deck.
### ⚓ Scene Shift – Aboard Another Pirate Ship
A black-sailed Jolly Roger tore through the wind, its flags snapping high above the roaring sea.
"SHARKS!" a sailor yelled from the starboard side.
Another voice followed: "Prepare for the hunt!"
The captain laughed from the helm, leaning against the wheel with an amused smile.
"Try not to make a mess this time, lads."
Up in the crow's nest, a man held a pair of antique binoculars—early 1800s make. He whistled.
"Oi! Pirate ship spotted. Five hundred kilometers south!"
The captain raised an eyebrow.
"Are they allies… or are we getting rich?"
The scout adjusted the lens. "Hard to tell—but their flag's a farad down!"
Everyone froze. Even the laughter from the shark team died out.
*(Among pirates, it was a sacred rule: if a high-ranking commander or officer dies, their ship lowers the flag by one farad—the length of a man's hand. And no pirate crew would dare attack a ship in mourning.)*
The captain's tone shifted. "Who do they appear to be?"
The scout narrowed his eyes, then flexed his hand—casting a small enchantment. Several glowing purple lenses floated around him in a ring. With each one, the view sharpened.
"…Oh my. Look who it is," the scout said, almost laughing. "It's your white-haired friend."
The captain froze. Then exhaled softly.
"Azan?"
The scout nodded. "His ship, at least. Flag's down. Someone important didn't make it back."
The captain's smile returned, more bitter now.
"I hope my rival's not dead." He paused. "He still owes me a duel and three crates of rum."
Then he raised his voice to the deck.
"Call out for the bois. We're heading south."
The crew roared. The sails turned.
**The Wicked Gale began its hunt.**
### Scene Shift – Mikael's Ship
Mikael narrowed his eyes as a dark shape broke through the horizon.
A ship—sails full, headed fast in their direction.
"Another pirate ship?"
Before he could raise the spyglass, a massive fireball launched from their deck, arcing high and glowing like a second sun.
"OH COME ON!" Mikael shouted, already sprinting across the deck. "I JUST fixed that sail!"
He bolted down to where Elhaan was lounging in the shade, half-asleep on a pile of ropes, legs crossed like a vacationing monk.
"Elhaan! Elhaan, wake up!" Mikael barked. "Fireball incoming! Do something!"
Elhaan slowly opened one eye.
Then smiled.
Then stuck his tongue out and started making weird faces at Mikael.
Mikael blinked. "...Are you insane?"
"Do something or I swear I will throw you AT the fireball!"
The fireball was almost there—flames dancing across the sky like a divine hammer.
Elhaan just winked.
**Snap.**
A green spark flickered from his fingers.
The fireball collapsed mid-air into a harmless puff of smoke.
**BOOMPH.**
Mikael stood frozen, mouth open. "...What."
From the smoke, a man appeared—tall, flamboyant robes, dramatic entrance fully committed.
A magician, clearly.
He landed on the deck with a smirk, dusting off his sleeves and scanning the ship.
"That's strange," he muttered. "Where's the crew? Where's the party?"
Then he spotted Elhaan.
They locked eyes.
"OI! Punk!" Elhaan shouted, lifting a lazy hand. "Wachyu doin' on my deck?"
The magician stared for a moment… then let out a full-body scream.
"ELHAAAAAAN! You ancient demon! You're ALIVE?! What kind of magic are you using?!"
He pointed wildly. "I saw your flag a FARAD down! You trying to prank us? You nearly gave us a heart attack!"
Mikael rubbed his face.
"...So you just fireball everyone you think is pranking you?"
The magician shrugged.
"That's pirate diplomacy."
The magician twirled his staff and stepped forward like he owned the deck.
"Also, why does your ship look like it's been run by a toddler for a month?"
He sniffed. "Smells like burnt crab and desperation."
Mikael crossed his arms. "You launched a fireball at us. You're lucky it doesn't smell like roasted mage right now."
Elhaan groaned as he stood up, cracking his back.
"Mikael, meet Rael. Pirate, pain in the arse, and dropout from the Royal Circle of Showoffs."
"I left with flair, thank you," Rael grinned. "Not my fault your court had no taste for flaming entrances."
Rael spun on his heel, eyeing Mikael with sudden curiosity.
"Wait… You're the one steering this thing?"
Mikael nodded, lifting the rope burns on his hands as proof.
"No crew. No helmsman. No one to tell me what 'starboard' actually means. Just me, the ocean, and one ex-grandmaster with retirement brain."
Elhaan lazily raised a hand. "I heard that."
Rael gave a low whistle. "Respect. If you survived this mess, you've either got skill… or an unreasonable amount of luck."
"Both," Mikael said, smirking. "Mostly luck."
Rael clapped his hands together.
"Right then! I say we bring this boy a proper crew before he sails himself into a volcano."
"I thought you came here to mourn," Elhaan said dryly.
Rael tilted his head.
"I did. But now I'm thinking this might be more fun."
He looked down at Mikael's belt… and spotted the ring.
Rael's smile softened for a second.
"...He gave it to you, didn't he?"
Mikael didn't answer. He just nodded.
For a rare moment, Rael was quiet. Then he turned to the smoke behind him and shouted:
"SOMEONE GO FETCH THE CAPTAIN. Tell him Azan's ghost is haunting his ship—and he brought a smart-mouthed successor with him!"
## 📜 Scene – Aboard *The Dagger's Oath*
The sails of Ilyaas's ship cut clean through the waves. Now just meters away, its dark hull dwarfed the battered frame of the Dagger's Oath.
With a swift leap, Ilyaas vaulted over the railing and landed hard on the deck of Azan's ship—boots slamming against the wood.
He didn't speak.
His eyes scanned the quiet ship.
Just three people stood on deck.
That wasn't right.
His heart tightened. Maybe… maybe Azan's last order was to bury someone? Maybe they left him behind on the island…
He stepped forward, jaw set, scanning faces—until a figure moved slowly from the shadows near the mast.
An old man… bowed faintly, offering him respect.
Wrinkled, silver-haired, robes faded by time and fire.
Ilyaas stared.
"...Mage Elhaan?"
Elhaan chuckled weakly, sparks flickering at his fingertips.
"Seems I failed a few experiments while you weren't looking."
Ilyaas walked up, eyes never leaving the changed man.
"You look like time punched you in the face."
"Feels about right," Elhaan muttered.
Ilyaas's voice lowered.
"Where are the others? The commanders. The crew?"
Elhaan's smile vanished.
"Long story short?" "They're dead."
Ilyaas stared at him, the weight of that statement crashing down like thunder.
"...Dead? Who? What could've killed them? There were grandmasters on board!"
Elhaan just shook his head slowly.
"A curse that laughs at titles."
Ilyaas turned away, fists clenched.
That's when he noticed the boy.
Green-eyed. Calm. Too calm for his age.
"And you," Ilyaas said, stepping toward him, "are the one he picked, huh?"
He studied Mikael for a long beat, then gave a slow, crooked nod.
"Old man always had a good eye."
"So then…" he asked, voice quiet, "how did he die?"
Mikael looked him straight in the eyes.
"The Black Mark."
Ilyaas blinked—then started laughing.
Loud. Abrasive. Bittersweet.
"Of course. Of course. No one could kill him. Only that damned curse."
Then his voice lowered as he turned toward the sea.
"So… you're resting now, Azan?" "You bloody stubborn legend."
He didn't cry. But he didn't speak again for a long while either.
The deck of the Dagger's Oath was too quiet for a pirate ship.
Then, a heavy step echoed. A massive man stepped forward from Ilyaas's boarding party, shoulders like barrels and a hammer slung across his back. His voice was gravel soaked in seawater.
"Ibrahim's dead?"
"The man who shattered three warships with his bare hands?"
His grip tightened on the hammer.
"He was my rival. That madman used to laugh mid-fight. And now he's just… gone?"
Before anyone could answer, a thin voice chimed in.
From behind the mast, a samurai-style fighter leaned against the railing, arms folded over a curved blade.
"Even Black Mask fell?" he said softly.
"I always wanted to cross swords with him… even once."
There was no sarcasm. Only silence. And awe.
Another pirate — younger, missing an eye — muttered from behind them.
"They were… unbeatable. Everyone knew that.
Azan's crew didn't die. They ended legends."
Rael, still hovering mid-drama, finally stopped pacing.
"Well this got depressingly "Rael.
Rael (the mage who came as fire ball he is also
scout of alyaas ship)"
You're absolutely right to check — that specific part where Elhaan reflects on leaving piracy and choosing peace was in your original draft, but I mistakenly left it out of the Webnovel-formatted version.
Here's the missing section, in its correct place and formatting. I'll insert it just before the "Funeral at Sea" scene, exactly as it was in your story:
---
📜 Scene – The Deck of the Dagger's Oath (Continuation)
Elhaan leaned on the railing, the wind pulling lightly at his worn robes. Ilyaas stood beside him, arms crossed, staring out into the endless sea where their lives had been shaped by salt and flame.
> "I think I'm done, Ilyaas," Elhaan said quietly.
Ilyaas looked over. "What do you mean?"
> "I think… I'll retire. From piracy. From this storm of curses, monsters, and flaming ships. That kid—Mikael—he's not ready for the sea yet."
He paused.
> "And I'm too tired to shape him into something he's not ready to become yet."
Ilyaas nodded slowly, the wind tugging at his coat.
Elhaan continued, voice firmer now:
> "I want you to keep this ship for him. The Dagger's Oath—Azan's ship. Keep it safe. Until the boy is ready to claim it for himself."
Ilyaas didn't argue. He just nodded again, this time with something more serious in his eyes.
> "You decided where you'll go?"
Elhaan smirked. "I might vanish inland. Somewhere green. Peaceful. Live with the treasure we salvaged."
Ilyaas raised an eyebrow. "You? On land? What can a pirate do without sails beneath him?"
Elhaan gave a dry laugh. "Believe it or not, I was quite the doctor before all this mess."
He looked toward the stars.
> "With the gold we have, I won't need to see another sea. For once… I just want quiet peaceful life."
### 🌑 Scene Shift – Funeral at Sea
Night fell like a velvet curtain.
The Dagger's Oath glowed with soft green candlelight, each flame flickering from lanterns enchanted to burn gently against the ocean wind.
The entire crew—those who had sailed with Azan and those now loyal to Mikael—stood in silence.
In the center of the deck, a small rowboat floated on the water, tethered for now.
Inside it were the folded coats and sashes of the fallen crew—neatly arranged, as if their spirits might still wear them.
No bodies remained. Only memory.
Elhaan stepped forward and said simply:
"May the sea carry them. As they carried us."
Mikael lowered his head, gripping the ring around his neck.
Rael muttered something under his breath, for once not cracking a joke.
Ilyaas took a long breath, then gently cut the rope.
The boat drifted slowly away, green fire flickering on the waves.
"Their love was the sea," Elhaan said. "Now the sea holds them."
The crew watched in silence, until the boat vanished into the dark horizon—swallowed by the tide they once called home.