Solved squeezed the rune stone. It flared to life, the air around them glowing as though a blue moon had descended into the canyon.
Andrew's eyes widened, realization dawning.
The system chimed in Solved's mind:
[Rune Activated ]
[Visualize Destination ]
Status: Engaged
Range: 50 miles max
Effect: Instantaneous spatial relocation upon visualization
He closed his eyes, picturing Campoff. The light pulsed, brighter and brighter until it was blinding. In the next breath, the canyon was gone.
The world tore sideways. One breath he was nowhere, the next he was standing on warped planks slick with brine, the stench of oil and rot strangling his lungs.
His vision stuttered, then cleared to reveal a maze of ships, ropes, and shadowed figures frozen in mid-movement.
They stood in the heart of Campoff.
He staggered once, steadying himself. Teleportation. He had never studied it, never trained in the art.
Solved exhaled, half-laughing. "Valamore bullet train," he muttered.
Andrew turned in disbelief, scanning the town square. "Impossible… you're a mage."
Solved smirked. "Nah. Not a Harry Potter fan."
Gasps rippled through the harbor. A crate hit the ground with a crack. Lantern light caught on the insignia at his chest, and the whispers began.
"Royalty…" one man hissed. Half the dockhands shrank back as if the word itself could cut them. Others gripped weapons, torn between fear and defiance.
[Truth Sight: Active]
[Emotion: Fear — Genuine]
[Root Cause: Authority + Forbidden Power]
[Inference: Magic tied to Bloodline]
Solved's eyes flickered, scanning their faces, their stances, their words. Not fear of the unknown. Fear of something recognized. Revered. Restricted.
He pieced it together instantly.
Only royalty can wield magic here. That's why they recoil. That's why they whisper.
Solved's lips curved faintly. He'd been mistaken for many things in Tokyo — a detective, a nuisance, sometimes a corpse. But never a king.
He understood their fear. Why magic marked him as a threat.
But his purpose did not change. Somewhere in this pit of salt and shadow, Henrik's daughter waited to be freed.
He straightened, letting their awe and terror hang heavy, and forced his voice to cut clean through the clamor.
"Not here for trouble."
The murmurs thinned, heads turning warily from one to another.
"I'm looking for a man," Solved continued, voice steady. "Fat, bearded. With a girl — auburn hair." His gaze swept the harbor. "Point me to the boat, and I walk away."
The whispers rose again, low and quick, like rats scratching inside the walls. Faces shifted, unreadable.
Then a voice cut through, sharp as a knife. A gaunt figure pushed through the throng of miscreants. "You're too late. They already left." He jabbed a finger toward the docks behind him.
Solved's eyes widened. He snapped his gaze to Andrew. "Move."
Andrew barely had time to shake off his awe before Solved broke into a run.
Boots slapped through the mud, the harbor stinking of brine and tar. Ahead, through the forest of masts and sails, a ship was already sliding from the port, lanterns bobbing on its stern like retreating stars.
Solved and Andrew ran as fast as their legs could carry them, boots slapping against the wet dock. At the last instant they leapt — fingers clawing into the slick wooden lip of the departing ship.
The deck loomed above them, voices shouting, lanterns swinging. Salt spray burned Solved's eyes as he dangled, body straining against the tide.
He swung himself left, then right, gathering momentum, boots kicking against the hull. Once. Twice. With a grunt he hurled his weight sideways and vaulted up, landing hard on the deck with a roll.
Andrew's arm trembled as he clung to the ledge. "Little help!" he barked, knuckles whitening.
But Solved barely spared him a glance. The system flickered across his vision:
[Objective: LOCATE TARGET]
Target: Elera Millwright
Status: Unknown / Last Known: Campoff Harbor
Suggested Action: Scan environment, leverage psychology, track movement
---
Shouts rose around him — sailors and smugglers alike reaching for blades. The deck groaned under Solved's boots, smelling of salt, sweat, and blood long scrubbed but never gone. He couldn't fight them all, not here, not now. His mind raced, truth-sight flaring as his gaze swept the deck in a heartbeat.
Then he saw him — the same man from Valamore. His aura bled greed, slick and bloated, like oil clinging to water.
Solved's lips curled. "Fat bastard."
He stepped forward, voice cutting the noise. "Where is she? Surrender her now or—"
The man laughed, swinging a thick finger like a pendulum. "And who do you think you are? We don't hand out goods for free. Got a bargain higher?"
"You kidnapped her—"
"No, no, no." The fat man wagged his finger again, eyes glittering with cruel amusement. "I bought her. Which makes her mine."
He turned his back with a dismissive wave. "Kill him and throw the body to the sea."
The order dropped like an anchor. Steel hissed from scabbards. Lantern light caught on blades as the circle tightened, eyes feral—hyenas closing in.
Solved's jaw set. His voice snapped like a whip.
"Andrew!"
It wasn't just a call—it was a command carved from urgency, a signal to unleash the storm.
One sailor lunged first, his cutlass sweeping in a vicious arc aimed to take Solved's head clean off.
Solved ducked low, the blade singing past his ear close enough to shear a lock of hair. He didn't flinch. Instead, his hand snapped up, catching the attacker's wrist mid-swing. A twist—sharp, precise—wrenched the cutlass free. Before the man could even cry out, Solved slammed an elbow into his throat, dropping him to the planks with a choking gasp.
The cutlass clattered once, then was in Solved's hand. He raised it, eyes cold, already measuring the next man who dared step forward.
"Andrew!" he barked again, voice cutting through the swell of shouts.
Another arc sliced toward him. Solved ducked, caught the sailor's arm, and tumbled him hard onto the deck.
He snapped a right jab into the jaw of the next man before a shadow loomed at his back. A cutlass hissed down—he twisted aside, steel flashing past his ribs—then ripped the blade free from its owner, crimson spraying across the planks.
He rolled to avoid another strike, boots skidding in the slick of blood and seawater.
For a heartbeat, the chaos stung with memory—drills at the Academy, endless sparring in circles, learning how to read men before they moved.
Another arc. He ducked, shoved the sailor back. A blade came from above—he weaved, drove an uppercut into the man's chin. But for every one he dropped, three more pressed in. Step by step, their blades drove him backward until his shoulders hit the rail.
Trapped. Surrounded.
One sailor grinned, baring yellow teeth. "Let's see who saves you now."
Solved's chest heaved, eyes darting between the blades. Come on, Andrew. Now or never.