Rage woke up to a sharp knock at his door. Three deliberate hits. There was no rush and no anger. It was the kind of knock that showed the person outside was following someone else's orders.
Probably the Queen's.
He exhaled, rolling onto his back, staring at the wooden ceiling for a long moment before finally sitting up.
Another knock. Same rhythm.
"Yes, I'm here," Rage muttered, swinging his legs off the bed.
He opened the door just enough to see the armored figure outside.
It was a royal guard.
"The Queen expects you," the guard said.
Rage barely responded.
He shut the door in the soldier's face without hesitation. After a few moments of silence, he washed his face and fixed his coat.
The soldier had not moved. He stayed at attention. If he was annoyed by the wait, he did not show it. Good discipline, or maybe just a big paycheck.
Rage went down the tavern stairs. The common room had changed overnight. The usual tavern lady was nowhere to be seen, probably resting after her shift. In her place stood the morning bartender. He was a stocky man with a thick beard, wiping a mug with the tired motion of someone who had done this many times before.
The man barely looked up. "Leaving early?"
"Not by choice."
Rage stepped outside and breathed in the sea air. The smell of salt, wet wood, and faraway fish markets filled his lungs. The sky was still in the colors of early morning.
Instead of going straight to the Queen's summons, Rage took the long way. Not to be defiant, just out of curiosity.
Abyssal Tides was not just a city. It felt alive, shaped by the ocean and the secrets beneath it. The outer districts were a crowded mix of fishermen, sailors, and market stalls. They filled the winding streets, busy with morning activity.
The harbor was the center of it all. Tall galleons, frigates, and merchant ships floated in the large docks. Their sails were rolled up and their hulls creaked softly against the wooden piers. Workers moved, hauling crates, securing cargo, and shouting in a seafarer's dialect.
Beyond the docks, the city rose. The lower districts, where taverns, brothels, and supply stores thrived, were rough, loud, and full of life. Narrow alleys twisted between buildings.
As Rage walked higher, the atmosphere changed. The middle districts showed Abyssal Tides' trading power. Markets held rare items, alchemy supplies, and exotic spices.
And above it all stood the Black Pearl Keep. The Queen's domain. The fortress was built into the cliffside, its walls were strong and dark, standing out under the morning sun. Towers reached toward the sky, their peaks marked with banners showing the Abyssal Tides sigil.
Rage reached the outside gates of the fortress. As expected, the gate was closed.
Two guards stood at attention with their spears crossed. They said nothing, just blocking his way.
Rage exhaled, ready to be difficult, but before he could speak, another figure stepped from the archway. His armor design and confident stance marked him as a higher-ranked officer. He looked at Rage, expression unreadable, then finally gave the command.
"Let him through."
The guards pulled back their spears and the gates opened.
Rage glanced at them as he stepped forward.
"Told you."
***
The castle doors stood before him. Thick, sturdy wood, polished and dark. No markings. No carvings. Just solid, unbroken doors.
The moment he stepped forward, the doors opened without a single hand pushing them. Silent. Precise. As if he had been expected.
Two guards stepped forward from either side, falling into place at his flanks with spears resting against their shoulders as they moved.
Rage barely looked at the guards.
The long hallway stretched ahead. It was cold and plain, with tall columns along the walls. There were no banners and no signs of wealth.
At the end of the hall, the chamber opened into something far more vast.
The Abyssal Court.
The columns opened into a large hall with a smooth stone floor.
At the far end, on a throne, was her.
[SYSTEM] Mariselle Lv.61
[SYSTEM] class : Hydromancer
[SYSTEM] loyalty : 51%
She wore long robes of dark blue and leaned back slightly. Her pale face, framed by dark blue hair, looked calm but distant.
And the hat.
A wide, large wizardry hat covered most of her face. The edges curled slightly, and it had simple silver patterns stitched into it. It was not just part of her. It made her presence clear. It showed her power.
On both sides of the chamber, long seats ran in a straight line. Mariselle's council sat there. They wore high-collared coats and ceremonial robes.
Rage looked at them.
Most of their system tags showed Neutral, but a few showed Hostile.
Rage did not know why.
On the right, near the far end of the chamber, stood Van and Kyle. Others who looked like experienced adventurers were with them.
Their usual rough look was gone. They wore clean, polished coats and neat clothes. They tried to look refined, but they did not look like court members.
The Queen hadn't spoken yet.
And Rage had no intention of being the first to break it.
His steps made little sound. He passed the last of the tribunal seats, feeling their eyes on him, judging him. He did not slow or falter.
Then, finally, he stopped.
The two guards stepped aside without a word.
A woman at Mariselle's side leaned in. Her voice was a soft whisper, too quiet to hear clearly, but still meant to be noticed.
[SYSTEM] Ormere Lv.60
[SYSTEM] class : Hydromancer
[SYSTEM] Hostile
Rage didn't shift.
Maybe they didn't like him. Maybe they didn't trust him. Either way, their opinion wasn't his problem
Ormere looked at him. Her gaze was cold with something he could not read. Then she turned away.
And then, at last, the Queen spoke.
"You are sent here as a representative of the Queen of Firekeep Fortress."
Her voice was smooth. Yet there was something wrong.
It was not weakness. Not completely. But under the steady sound of her voice, there was a faint strain, a shortness of breath that did not fit.
Rage looked at her. Her paleness was not natural. It was more than the fairness of someone who had not seen the sun. It was like the color had been drained, leaving only a shadow of what should be there.
Someone had done this to her. That much was obvious.
He didn't know.
"You will join an expedition with adventurers from other kingdoms. Your task is to clear an island to the west, a land abandoned and forgotten by time and tide."
She shifted slightly, the folds of her royal robe caught the dim light.
"Beneath it is a dungeon said to hold great knowledge and treasure."
Mariselle looked at him for a moment before she spoke again.
"This mission must remain hidden. You and the others will bear no names of your kingdoms. No banners, no signs of loyalty."
The words carried weight. A task like this would let them deny any connections. If things went wrong there would be no war and no talks. There would only be the quiet removal of those sent.
"Your task is clear. Ensure the entrance is open. Remove whatever stands in your way."
There was no pause. No worry. It was an order given like any other.
Rage waited in silence for a moment. Then he spoke.
"Why the secrecy?"
His words were quiet but clear.
He raised his gaze slightly, just enough to meet Mariselle's eyes.
"If this dungeon is so valuable, why hasn't Abyssal Tides claimed it themselves?"
A ripple of tension passed through the tribunal seats.
And then, from one of the stands, a woman's voice cut through the silence.
"The Queen's decree is not to be questioned."
[SYSTEM] Lady Sorell Lv.58
[SYSTEM] class : Hydromancer
[SYSTEM] Hostile
Another voice came from the tribunal. It held quiet dislike.
[SYSTEM] Veylan Lv.59
[SYSTEM] class : Knight
[SYSTEM] Hostile
"An outsider has no right to question the will of the Queen."
Rage exhaled slowly.
"Of course. Another one."
Before anyone else could speak, the Queen's voice cut through the growing tension.
"Abyssal Tides must stay neutral in the eyes of the other kingdoms. If we act openly, it would disturb the balance. This task belongs to adventurers alone... and it must remain hidden."
Her words were measured and deliberate.But is sounded like those weren't words she had chosen to speak. Like something else had already decided them for her.
Queen Mariselle's gaze remained steady, unaffected by the murmurs of her council.
"You will leave at dawn and see this task fulfilled."
"You may go."
Rage didn't hesitate. He turned on his heel, already making his way toward the exit.
But silence was never his style.
He slowed just enough to glance back over his shoulder, his voice broke the heavy air with all the weight of a poorly timed joke.
"Hey, if I fail this mission, can I still apply as your Fair Consort Eternal?"
The reaction was immediate.
A sharp gasp. A strangled scoff. The scrape of a chair as someone half-rose in outrage.
The council, so composed before, now seethed in collective offense.
And yet, for a brief moment, a small, faint smile appeared on the Queen's pale lips. It was weak but real.
Rage caught it.
He said nothing more.
He just kept walking.
***
Outside the castle gates, three figures waited. They looked calm but ready. They were not guards, and they did not have the air of nobles.
Adventurers. That was Rage's first thought as he looked at them. Like Van and Kyle. Experienced, worn, the kind who had seen many battles and kept moving anyway.
[SYSTEM] Densuke Lv.55
[SYSTEM] class : Samurai
[SYSTEM] neutral
Densuke stood with quiet focus. His dark eyes stayed fixed ahead. He wore dark armor over cloth, simple and functional. The his katana rested at his side.
[SYSTEM] Zach Lv.50
[SYSTEM] class : Marksman
[SYSTEM] neutral
Zach stood quietly, his dark hair tied back. He wore a simple leather coat and had his short bow at his back.
[SYSTEM] Geralt Lv.52
[SYSTEM] class : Striker
[SYSTEM] neutral
Geralt's large frame was hard to miss. His short hair and stubbled jaw framed cold, steady eyes. He wore simple, worn armor that fit his serious manner.
"Must be the new kid." Geralt's tone was dry, but not unkind.
"Must be him." Zach stopped flipping his coin, letting it settle in his palm.
"Hey kid," Densuke's voice cut through the air, sharp and commanding. He glanced up briefly, "Dawn. The docks. Don't be late."
Rage barely acknowledged them, raising a hand in lazy acknowledgment as he kept walking.
Then, just as the castle doors groaned shut behind him, a faint whisper lingered in the air.
"He walks just like him..."
As Rage walked, he felt their eyes on him, even without looking. To them, he was a ghost of an old companion, a shadow from the past.
Then Geralt exhaled and shook his head. "Not even close."
***
Rage stepped through the tavern doors. The crowd was different from last night. Day drinkers and tired sailors shared stories over half-empty mugs.
Behind the counter, the tavern keeper was where Rage had left him. He wiped a mug with the same motion he had done many times before. He did not look up as Rage came closer.
"Back early?"
"Depends," Rage replied, sliding onto a stool. "What do you have?"
The tavern keeper's eyes scanned the shelves, then flicked back to Rage. "Liquors, mostly. Got a few things that'll put hair on your chest."
"Water," Rage replied.
The tavern keeper didn't argue. "Water, huh? Don't get many asking for that."
The man turned, grabbed a pitcher, and filled a cup with water before sliding it over.
For a moment, they sat in silence. The tavern made its usual noise. Chairs scraped, coins clinked, and the occasional laugh came from a half-told joke.
Eventually, the tavern keeper leaned against the counter. "So. How was your meeting with the Queen?"
"Dramatic," Rage answered. "Basically a normal day."
"She gave you a task?"
Rage exhaled. "Something about an island."
The tavern keeper nodded, as if this was a completely reasonable and expected development. "And they're sending you?"
"Apparently."
"Can't argue that," the man said, tapping his fingers on the counter.
He reached under it and pulled out a rolled parchment.
"If you want something more ordinary, the guild sent this. Figured you'd be passing through."
Rage took the parchment and unrolled it. "Rats in the basement, Some missing heirloom, A mysterious traveler looking for a bodyguard."
"Try 'merchant caravan needs an escort north,'" the tavern keeper said. "Low risk, decent pay. Thought it might interest you, since you are stuck here until dawn."
Rage drummed his fingers against the wood. "I'll pass."
"Too easy?"
"Too boring."
"Can't blame you for that."
Rage stretched. "Nothing to do 'til departure. Feels weird."
His mind went back to Ignia. Her pace was relentless, always pushing him. The Queen had been hard on him for months, sending him from one long training session to another with no rest. Every break felt like a challenge, as if she thought he might forget how to fight if he stopped for a moment.
It felt strange to have peace, strange not to hear her voice every morning giving orders like a strict commander. Rage had grown so used to her constant demands that it felt odd not to have her there, ready to push him again.
"You could check the guild, see if something catches your eye." The tavern keeper gestured toward the door. "Or, you know, you could try some of our actual drinks. Might drown your boredom."
The man chuckled lightly and went back to wiping down the mug.
"You know what?" Rage muttered. "I'll just sleep the rest of the day."
He shoved the chair back before turning toward the stairs.
The tavern keeper looked up. "We've got a few girls around who'd be happy to keep you company."
"Not at the moment," said Rage, giving him a quick glance before heading for the stairs.
He went to his room and lay on his bed. The quiet noise from the tavern faded as he fell asleep.
The hours moved slowly.
***
Rage woke up to the light of dawn coming through the small window. The soft sound of the city had changed. It was quiet now. He stretched again. His body was stiff from the sleep he did not really want. He got up from the bed.
He walked downstairs. The tavern lady was still behind the counter. Her eyes were half closed but sharp. It was like she had been waiting for him. She did not speak. She just nodded once as he passed.
The only other people in the tavern were a few drunk sailors. Some were slumped over their mugs. Others were passed out in the corners or lying across tables.
Rage stepped out the door. The morning air was cold and sharp on his skin. The streets of Abyssal Tides were empty. Only a few stray cats moved, or he heard the far-off sound of someone coming home from the night before. The cobblestones were wet with dew.
At the docks, a small boat rocked gently on the water. It was small but it could hold five to ten people. The wooden planks were worn and the ropes were old. Van, Kyle, Geralt, Densuke, and Zach were already there.
"You're early," Geralt called, glancing up from the dock.
"Fashionably," Rage replied.
The boatman was old and worn. He stood at the back of the boat with his hands on the oars.
"Time to leave," he said. His voice was rough as he signaled for them to get on.
Rage stepped into the boat. It moved a little under his weight.
The boatman started rowing. The small boat began to drift away from the dock. The water was calm. The city slowly disappeared behind them. The horizon stretched ahead. The long journey had begun.
[SYSTEM] Queen Mariselle : Loyalty 51%
[SYSTEM] Corruption : 13.4%