The "Saffron-Stirrer" did not look like a champion's vessel. Tucked away in the derelict corner of Port Saffron known as the Barnacle Boneyard, the ship was a hybrid of a merchant schooner and a industrial kitchen. Its hull was reinforced with heat-treated brass, and instead of a figurehead, its bow featured a massive, rotating paddle-wheel designed to churn the thick, algae-heavy waters of the Spice Sea.
"She's a bit... rustic," Mina said, poking a patch of rust on the main mast with her ribbon.
"Rustic? She's a masterpiece!" Sully shouted, kicking a brass pipe that promptly hissed with pressurized steam. "This used to be a mobile fermentation-lab for the Spice-Lords. She's got a dual-core Prana engine and a galley that's literally built into the hull's thermal-exchange system. You want to cook a Tier-7 leviathan? This girl won't even break a sweat."
Konja stepped onto the deck, Zale trotting cautiously behind him. The moment his boots hit the wood, he felt a familiar hum. The ship wasn't just metal and timber; it was saturated with decades of cooking-essence. The air in the hold smelled of old cloves, toasted sesame, and high-pressure steam.
"Renzo, check the rudder. Tali, the ballast," Konja commanded, his voice taking on the authority of a captain. "Mina, I need you to see if the herb-garden on the aft-deck is salvageable."
The Ghost in the Pantry
While the others explored the deck, Konja descended into the heart of the ship: the Main Galley. It was a subterranean marvel of copper pots, pressurized ovens, and a central hearth-stone that glowed with a faint, dormant amber light.
But as he approached the cold-storage locker, Zale's hackles rose. The fox let out a low, vibrating growl, his indigo fur sparking with static.
"Someone's in here," Konja whispered, his hand going to the Heavens-Seared Cleaver-Blade.
He kicked the locker door open. Expecting a Black-Salt assassin or a hungry dock-thief, he was instead met by a cloud of flour and a flurry of motion. A small figure, wrapped in a tattered cloak of shimmering, iridescent fabric, tumbled out onto the floor, clutching a jar of pickled ginger.
"Don't cook me!" the figure squeaked, hiding their face behind a pair of oversized, brass-rimmed goggles.
Konja lowered his blade. The stowaway was a young girl, perhaps fourteen, with hair the color of sea-foam and skin that held a faint, pearlescent glow. She didn't look like a pirate; she looked like she belonged in the deep trenches of Aquaria.
"Who are you?" Konja asked, offering a hand.
The girl hesitated, then took it. Her grip was surprisingly strong, and her skin felt unnaturally cool. "I'm Elara. And you... you're the boy from the Docks. The one who massaged the Kraken."
"How did you get on this ship?" Tali asked, entering the galley with her tonfas drawn.
"I've been living here for weeks," Elara said, dusting the flour off her cloak. "The Saffron-Stirrer is the only ship in the harbor with a Void-Dampened Hull. The Black-Salt Pirates can't track it with their Null-Compasses. I was waiting for someone who knew how to light the hearth."
The Black-Salt Secret
Once the group had calmed down and Mina had provided Elara with a warm bowl of herb-broth, the girl revealed why she was hiding. She pulled a small, jagged piece of what looked like charred glass from her pocket. It pulsed with a rhythmic, sickly purple light.
"This is a fragment of Obsidian Salt," Elara whispered. "The Black-Salt Pirates aren't just raiding ships for spices. They're 'blighting' the sea. They use this salt to suck the Prana out of the bioluminescent algae. Without the algae, the Sea of Spices dies, and the Pirates become the only ones who can provide 'Clean Salt' to the Hegemony."
Konja looked at the fragment. It felt exactly like the Null-Crystals used by Vax the Veiled and the Regency.
"They're creating an artificial famine," Konja realized. "If they control the salt, they control the flavor of the world."
"They're looking for me because I know where the Source-Well is," Elara continued, her voice trembling. "My father was the Navigator for the First Spice-Lord. He found the place where the Great Currents meet—the Heart of the Whirlpool. That's where the Pirates are manufacturing the Obsidian Salt."
The First Voyage
Suddenly, the ship lurched. A heavy thump echoed through the hull, followed by the sound of iron grappling hooks biting into the brass railing above.
"Speak of the devils," Renzo shouted from the deck. "We've got charcoal sails on the starboard bow!"
Konja turned to Elara. "Can you navigate this ship?"
"I know the Saffron-Stirrer better than the back of my hand," she said, her goggles clicking into place. "But we need the engine at 100%!"
"Tali, get to the bellows! Renzo, fend off the boarders!" Konja leaped up the stairs, Zale blurring beside him.
The scene on deck was chaotic. Three small, fast-moving pirate skiffs had surrounded the Stirrer. Pirates in salt-stained leather were swinging across, their blades coated in the same purple-black Obsidian Salt Elara had described.
"Munka-Style: The Rising Steam!"
Konja slammed his blade into the central steam-vent on the deck. He didn't cut the metal; he released a localized burst of high-pressure vapor that knocked the first wave of boarders back into the sea.
Zale lunged at a pirate attempting to sabotage the main mast, his paws crackling with a High-Voltage Ripple that short-circuited the pirate's mechanical arm.
"Elara, take the wheel!" Konja roared.
The girl sprinted to the helm, her hands moving over the brass controls with instinctive grace. She pulled a lever labeled STIR, and the massive paddle-wheel at the bow began to spin.
The Saffron-Stirrer didn't just move forward; it churned the water into a frothy, white vortex. The bioluminescent algae in the water reacted to the ship's Prana, glowing with a brilliant emerald light that acted as a physical barrier against the pirate skiffs.
"Engage the Thermal-Boost!" Elara shouted.
Konja ran to the engine-hatch. He didn't use coal. He placed his hand on the Prana-coil and channeled the Fourth Gate: Eternal Hearth.
"Full Burn!"
The ship let out a roar like a dragon. The brass pipes turned a glowing cherry-red, and the Saffron-Stirrer shot forward, leaving the Black-Salt Pirates in a wake of boiling, emerald foam.
Into the Blue
As the lights of Port Saffron faded into the distance, the group gathered on the aft-deck. The ship was humming with a steady, powerful rhythm, and the Sea of Spices stretched out before them, vast and mysterious.
"We're officially outlaws now," Renzo said, wiping a splash of salt-water from his blade. "The Pirates will have a bounty on this ship before morning."
"Let them come," Konja said, looking at the horizon. He turned to Elara. "If we're going to stop them, we need to get stronger. Where's the next League match?"
Elara pulled out a weathered sea-chart. "If we follow the Cinnamon Current, we'll reach the Floating Markets of Jora in three days. They host the Mid-Water Trials. The rank you need to reach is 500."
Konja looked at his Challenger's Token. The rank 850 flickered. He had a ship, a crew, and a navigator who knew the sea's darkest secrets.
"Set a course for Jora," Konja said. "Zale, let's see if we can find some of those lightning-fish on the way. I have a feeling we're going to need a very special recipe for what's coming next."
The Saffron-Stirrer cut through the waves, a lone spark of light in the deepening twilight of the Spice Sea. The second book had truly begun, and the heat was only going to rise.