Leo followed Arthur through the dim alleys of Arestin, their footsteps echoing softly against the cobblestones. The city had quieted, its usual life tucked away behind shuttered windows and locked doors.
As they walked, Arthur spoke up without turning his head. "How old are you?"
"Seventeen," Leo replied casually.
Arthur glanced at him, eyebrows slightly raised in surprise. "You look older than that."
Leo gave a small, amused smile in return but said nothing.
"And your rank and path?" Arthur asked, his tone neutral but curious.
"I'm a B-rank. Illusionist, Enchanter, and Warrior," Leo said.
Arthur stopped briefly and looked at him. "Three paths? That's bold."
"One of them is Warrior," Leo said with a shrug. "No corruption risk with that one."
Arthur nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. They continued in silence until the alleys opened up to the harbor. The cold wind from the sea swept over them as they reached the port, where ships bobbed gently in the dark water, moored for the night.
Arthur stopped and turned toward Leo. "On the ship, use your fake name—Victor Black. Not all of my crew are people I know or trust."
Leo gave a small nod. "Understood."
They walked toward a large ship bearing the insignia Leo recognized as belonging to the Avalon Pirates. While the ships in this world weren't nearly as massive as those from his previous life, this one was among the largest in the harbor. Up close, its size was still impressive—towering over the nearby vessels, with weathered sails and a dark wooden hull that hinted at countless voyages.
"How many crew members do you have?" Leo asked.
"Twenty-four, as of today," Arthur replied.
They stepped onto the deck together. The sound of boots striking wood caught the attention of those nearby, and soon the crew began to gather around them. Curious eyes watched Leo as he stood beside Arthur.
"This is Victor Black, our new member," Arthur announced clearly.
A man with narrow eyes and tough, weathered skin stepped forward. He looked like someone who had seen his share of storms.
"Victor, I'm Laid Yon, co-captain of this ship," he said, extending a hand. "Nice to meet you."
Leo took it and gave a firm shake. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Yon."
A few of the crew chuckled quietly, clearly amused by Leo's polite tone—an unusual trait for someone joining a pirate crew.
"Hey, Victor! What rank are you?" someone called out from behind the group.
But before Leo could answer, Arthur raised a hand, motioning for silence. "Save your questions for later," he said. Then he turned to Leo. "Come with me."
Leo followed him into the captain's cabin. The room was modest but functional. A sturdy desk stood at the far end, with a wooden chair behind it. A shelf of books and a few scattered decorations filled the corners, though most were covered in the faint growth of mushroom-like plants—signs of moisture and time spent at sea.
Across from the desk sat a single chair. Arthur motioned for Leo to sit, then walked around to his side and began writing something on a parchment. For several minutes, the only sound in the room was the scratching of his pen.
When he finished, he drew a glowing symbol on the paper and slid it across the desk. "This is an unbreakable contract. Sign it, and you're officially part of the crew."
Leo picked it up and scanned the contents. It was exactly what he expected: a binding agreement confirming everything he had said, and pledging his loyalty to Arthur without exception. Satisfied, he signed it. The parchment glowed white for a brief moment before fading.
Arthur gave a nod of approval. "Welcome to the Avalon Pirates. Now—tell me your real purpose. Why did my father send you?"
Leo shrugged. "He just told me to find you. As for my goal—I want to get stronger."
Arthur leaned forward slightly. "Why?"
Leo's expression darkened. "I have plenty of reasons. But one of the most important is to kill Bishop Oryu… and destroy the group that attacked Flesa City."
Arthur's eyes narrowed. "Did they hurt someone important to you?"
Leo nodded. "They killed one of my friends, cut off another's hand… and they endangered my family. And the girl I… love."
Arthur raised an eyebrow. "Love? That's a big word for someone your age."
"Too soon? Maybe. Embarrassing? Definitely. So, let's drop that subject."
Arthur chuckled softly. "Fair enough." He leaned back in his chair. "The best way to grow stronger is through experience—and from the look in your eyes, you've already had plenty."
"What do you see in my eyes?"
"That you've killed before."
Leo didn't flinch. "Of course I have. I'm not the kind who stares into my enemy's eyes hoping they'll change their ways and find redemption."
Arthur smirked. "Good. You'll need that kind of resolve if you're going to survive as a pirate."
Leo crossed his arms. "And what about you? What's your mission?"
"For now," Arthur said, his voice lowering, "I intend to hunt and kill a creature that threatens all of humanity."
Leo feigned surprise. He already knew exactly what Arthur meant, but kept his tone curious. "A creature that threatens all of humanity? What kind of beast are we talking about?"
"An old god," Arthur answered. "But we'll talk about that later. You're dismissed for now. Laid will show you where you'll be staying. You can trust him."
Leo nodded and stood. As he reached the door, Arthur's voice stopped him.
"How did you know who I was?"
He glanced over his shoulder with a slight grin. "You weren't exactly subtle."
Arthur returned the smile. "That was intentional."
Leo turned fully to face him. "You wanted people to find out?"
Arthur leaned forward again. "My father has a lot of enemies. If they come for me, I'll be ready. Let them come—I'll be the one to end them."
Leo was silent for a moment, genuinely surprised. This man had made himself a target—deliberately—to lure in his enemies and destroy them. With a final nod, He left the room and stepped back onto the deck, scanning for Laid.
Once again, the crew began to gather around Leo, drawn by curiosity. Among them was Laid, who stepped forward as Leo approached.
"The captain said I should come to you," Leo said.
Laid gave a small nod, but before he could respond, the same question from earlier resurfaced.
"What rank did you say you were?" one of the crew asked.
"I'm a B-rank Illusionist," Leo replied evenly.
"B?" someone echoed, clearly surprised.
A noticeable shift swept through the group. The smirks and casual curiosity vanished from their faces, replaced by tension and caution.
"You're the same rank as Laid?" another crew member muttered, the tone somewhere between disbelief and concern.
"Enough," Laid said sharply, his voice cutting through the murmurs. He turned to Leo. "Come with me."
Leo followed him below deck. They moved past rows of hammocks strung up between wooden beams until they reached a quiet corner. Laid gestured to one of the hammocks.
"This is where you'll sleep."
Leo nodded in acknowledgment.
"We set sail tomorrow. In the morning, you'll help load cargo onto the ship. Until then, get some rest."
With that, Laid turned and walked away, leaving Leo alone in the dim lantern-lit space.
Leo climbed into the hammock and settled in. His eyes drifted shut, but his mind remained alert. Tomorrow night, he had a secret meeting to attend—one that couldn't afford any interruptions. He would have to find a way to slip away unnoticed. But that was a problem for later.
For now, he allowed himself to rest.
…
Leo woke to the sharp clang of a bell echoing through the ship. Blinking the sleep from his eyes, he sat up in his hammock. Around him, the other pirates were doing the same—groggy but moving with practiced ease.
"Get up, we have to load the cargo. Come on!" Laid's voice called down from above deck, firm and commanding.
Leo reached for his watch and checked the time. Five in the morning. He let out a quiet sigh. It was earlier than he would have liked, especially with a long day ahead and a secret meeting still on his mind.
He quickly changed into more suitable clothes for labor—an untucked white shirt and simple black pants, comfortable and easy to move in. Then, joining the others, he made his way up to the deck.
The sky above was still dark, with only a faint blue light signaling the approaching dawn. As they walked toward the dockside cargo, Leo noticed even Laid was lending a hand—gripping crates and barrels, organizing the flow of work.
Before long, the mood shifted. In the middle of the heavy lifting, someone called out with a rough, rhythmic voice:
"Heave-Ho, Roll it Low."
And the rest of the crew answered in unison, voices rising together.
"Roll it low!"
"Stack it tight," the caller shouted.
"Make it right!"
"Lift it high!"
"Don't let it fly!"
"Grip that rope!"
"Pull with hope!"
They repeated the chant over and over, the rhythm syncing with their movements as they worked. The air filled with the sound of rough laughter and boots scraping on wood.
Leo found himself smiling. There was a strange warmth in it—a camaraderie that reminded him of his past life, of going out with friends and being part of something, even if just for a fleeting moment.
When the work was finally done, the crew gathered on the deck. A man wearing a stained cook's hat stood behind a large steaming pot, ladling a thick, soup-like meal into bowls. The aroma was strong—simple, but hearty.
Leo received his portion and made his way to a quiet corner of the deck where he could look out over the sea. The early morning sun cast a golden shimmer on the waves, and for a moment, he let himself enjoy the calm.
A few crew members approached him, bowls in hand. They sat nearby and struck up a casual conversation, talking about past adventures, battles, the women they'd been with, and the scars they'd earned. Eventually, they turned the conversation toward Leo, asking about his journey.
He was halfway through retelling his story of hunting wolves when Laid appeared beside him.
"Victor," Laid said, "the captain wants to see you."
Leo gave a short nod, handed his empty bowl to one of the crew, and made his way to Arthur's cabin. As soon as he stepped inside, Arthur got straight to the point.
"I've just received a report from the Kingdom of Light," he said, leaning back in his chair. "They think you died. Apparently, you were caught in some kind of explosion in a house. Care to explain what really happened?"
Leo had already decided not to tell the full truth. He needed this version of the story to serve him later.
"A god saved me," he said calmly. "After killing the A-rank who attacked us, he pulled me out of the city."
Arthur's brow furrowed. "A god? Which one?"
Leo paused, then replied, "He called himself the Creator."
Arthur raised his eyebrows. "The Creator? I've never heard of a god by that name."
"That's what he told me."
"And that's it?"
"No," Leo added. "He also said a war is coming. That I'm to be his vessel when it happens."
Arthur's expression sharpened, a flicker of alarm flashing in his eyes. "A war?"
Just then, he paused, his gaze shifting slightly as if he were listening to something only he could hear. Faint murmurs echoed in his ears—whispers that didn't belong in the room. Without a word, he raised his hand and cast a spell. A ripple of light pulsed outward from his palm, sweeping across the cabin and into the walls, dispersing the invisible presence. Satisfied, he looked back at Leo. His voice was calmer now, but still firm.
"Continue."
"He didn't tell me much more. Just that he stands against the Betrayer—and that he's the only one who can stop him. I don't even know who the Betrayer is yet. He said I'd understand when the time comes."
Arthur sat in silence for a moment, eyes wide with disbelief. Then his expression hardened.
"Don't speak of this to anyone," he said firmly, pointing toward the door. "Not a word."
Leo nodded, the faintest hint of a knowing smile on his lips. Without another word, he turned and left the room.
…
In the captain's cabin, Arthur sat in his chair, deep in thought.
'The Creator? Who is he? A new god? A demon? Some unknown existence?'
He had never heard that name before—not in any scripture, legend, or whispered tale. And yet, Leo claimed this being was the only one capable of stopping the God of Light?
Arthur leaned back, tension weighing on his shoulders. If that was true, then everything they knew about the divine order could be far more complicated than he had imagined.
He needed more information—urgently.