The endless sea stretched out in all directions. Gray-black smoke drifted with the wind, and in the dissipating haze, one could vaguely make out a dark-winged figure charred and scorched slowly being swallowed by the ocean.
That was Scar. He had taken Jacob Bovan's massive fireball head-on. Even with all his defenses, the flames consumed him. Hatred etched into every fiber of his being, he was dragged into the abyss straight to hell.
"Tell the King of Hell my name Jacob Bovan."
Jacob withdrew the fire back into his body and, with a simple motion, transformed back into human form.
His sharp gaze and angular features exuded calm authority. The massive sword, Blazing Warblade, rested across his back as he strode toward the collapsed, trembling man who had dared to defy him.
The man dropped to his knees, tears streaming down his face.
"Please, sir, I was wrong! Treat me like a fart and let me go!"
His forehead slammed against the deck again and again. Thud. Thud. Thud. Pitiful sounds of desperation.
Jacob rested his hand on the hilt of Blazing Warblade. A faint, amused smile played on his lips. This feeling the power to decide a man's fate was intoxicating.
"Deliver me to the island I specify within one day," Jacob said coldly, "and I'll spare your life."
The man's eyes lit up with hope. He scrambled to his feet and bowed frantically.
"Yes! Yes, sir! I'll order the crew to push the ship to its limit!"
Jacob stood silently as the frantic orders were shouted. His smile faded into calm cold and unfeeling.
True to his word, the merchant captain drove himself mad ensuring the ship arrived at the destination just in time.
Panting, his face beaming with relief, the man turned to Jacob.
"Sir, I—"
Shhhk!
A single stroke of the blade silenced him. His head rolled to the deck, his expression still frozen in that final moment of joy, believing he'd survived.
"Flame Waltz – Nocturne."
He was never meant to live.
Then came the follow-up.
"Flame Waltz – Crimson Dance."
The red glow burst across the ship. Countless arcs of sword aura tore through the vessel, slaughtering every last slave aboard.
No witnesses. No stories. No leaks. His presence had to remain a secret.
Jacob sheathed Blazing Warblade and stepped off the ship alone.
This was Island 824 a numbered zone under direct Navy jurisdiction. Such military islands were identified by code rather than name.
Naval recruitment notices filled the small port town, each bearing the stamp of newly appointed Fleet Admiral Sengoku.
The wind was light. The air, heavy with expectation.
Jacob walked openly, Blazing Warblade on his back, not bothering to suppress his presence.
At this point, he was already at the pinnacle of the Swordmaster realm one step away from Supreme Swordmaster status, the level of monsters like Dracule Mihawk.
To anyone with keen senses, he burned like wildfire in the night.
In the center plaza, Vice Admiral Mole oversaw Navy entrance tests. His expression suddenly shifted, sharp as a drawn blade.
"Vice Admiral, everything's going well, isn't it? Recruitment numbers are solid. Why the change in mood?" asked a commodore nearby.
"Send word to the others. Stay alert. There's an uninvited guest approaching."
The commodore hesitated but shut his mouth when he saw the Vice Admiral's glare.
Recruits noticed the sudden change in atmosphere. Their attention turned to the man with the mohawk, glasses, and long coat Vice Admiral Mole.
Then Jacob appeared.
His tall, lean frame walked with unhurried poise, Blazing Warblade towering over his shoulder.
Vice Admiral Mole's brows knitted tighter. That sword aura he could feel it. It vastly outclassed his own.
This man was a monster.
That suffocating pressure he had sensed before it had been Jacob Bovan all along.
Ding!
"Due to the host's overwhelming and unrestrained aura, Vice Admiral Mole is stunned. Evaluation: B. Reward: Navy Six Styles – Soru (Shave)!"
The mechanical voice rang in Jacob's mind. A cold glint flickered in his eyes.
Even a Vice Admiral could drop a Navy technique like Soru? Not bad for a B-tier evaluation. What would an Admiral or the Fleet Admiral drop?
He needed more power.
Vice Admiral Mole turned to a village elder nearby. "Have you seen this man on the island before?"
The old man adjusted his glasses and peered at Jacob. Before he could reply
Mole stepped forward. "This is a naval recruitment zone. Civilians must vacate immediately."
Jacob smiled.
"Sir, you misunderstand. I've dreamed of joining the Navy since I was a child. When I heard there was recruitment nearby, I rushed here from another island."
Mole's eyes narrowed. If that were true, why hadn't he come sooner? And with this kind of power… could he even stop the man?
Still, he said calmly, "If that's the case, you're welcome to try. Anyone who passes the entrance test can enlist."
Jacob chuckled. "Starting as a private would be such a waste. Shouldn't someone like me begin at least… as a Vice Admiral? Don't you agree… Vice Admiral Mole?"
He gently tapped the hilt of Blazing Warblade.
The air around him thickened like a storm building pressure.
If his aura had been smoldering before, now it crashed down like a tidal wave.
Even the village elder staggered under the force. The young recruits buckled, some falling to their knees.
"W-What kind of monster is this?!"
Gasps rang out.
Jacob didn't just radiate strength.
He was strength made manifest.