The next day, William stood on the deck of the ship, his sword whistling through the air as he wielded it with force and precision. His routine hadn't changed since the start of the journey. For the past two weeks, he had never wavered in his determination: every morning, at the first ray of sunlight, he rose from bed, dressed in light clothes, and went out to train under the open sky.
The sailors had already grown used to seeing him from the earliest hours of the dawn, moving like an unstoppable shadow, repeating his exercises over and over until the sun began to dip toward the horizon. He only paused to eat, go to the bathroom, or, on rare occasions, when one of his companions came out to talk or spend a moment with him.
Even though he hadn't enjoyed intimacy with them in days, he understood why. The constant swaying of the ship had devastated their health—nausea, dizziness, fatigue... they were in pieces. In those conditions, there was no room for wild pleasures, no matter how much they all desired it.
Still, some found joy in the view. Every time the nobles left their cabins, they could see William training tirelessly, his muscles glistening with sweat. The men never missed a chance to mock:
"Look at him! A peasant pretending to be a knight," one of them laughed.
"He probably thinks he'll gain something by sweating like a pig," another added with disdain.
But their words were nothing more than shields to hide the insecurity he caused them. They all remembered perfectly how he had slaughtered a hundred of their guards in a single afternoon. They knew he wasn't someone they could insult or defeat. If not for the strict rules of the ship, they wouldn't even dare look at him, for fear he might beat them to death.
The women, however, didn't share that opinion.
Secretly—and some even openly—young noblewomen would watch him for long minutes. William trained shirtless, his torso coated in a fine layer of sweat that emphasized the firmness of his muscles. His body had changed drastically: taller, broader, stronger. He had grown nearly twenty centimeters since arriving in Caerlin. He was no longer the kind-faced boy who had fled a massacre, but a young man forged by pain, battle, and discipline.
His shoulders were broad, his abs sharply defined, his arms tense like those of a seasoned warrior. Every swing, every strike, revealed a play of muscle that seemed to hypnotize his spectators—many of whom had never seen a male body up close.
In aristocratic society, young women grew up under strict norms: no contact with the opposite sex until marriage, watched over by governesses and chaperones, educated for modesty and obedience. Most had never seen a man without a shirt—let alone one who radiated such raw, virile energy.
William didn't need to say a word. The rhythm of his sword, the firmness of his stance, the tension in his back with every movement... it all ignited the imagination of more than one.
"Damn…" murmured a red-haired noblewoman from the shade of a mast. "How can he move like that?"
"We shouldn't be watching…" her friend replied, blushing slightly—though she didn't look away.
And so, while the sun continued its arc across the sky, William danced with his sword. Silent, relentless, beautiful like a war god. He knew exactly what those maidens were doing: watching him with desire. So sometimes, he would gift them with an enigmatic smile—like a wolf slowly seducing a flock of sheep that didn't know they were about to be devoured.
After all, there was still over a year of travel ahead. Maybe, just maybe, he'd try them all… one by one.
Thoughts like that would have embarrassed him months ago, when he still clung to the mentality of his old world. But that world was gone. After brushing against death—more than once—something inside him had changed. He was no longer a man bound by the rules of others. In this world, the strong did as they pleased, without caring for anyone's opinion.
With that freedom came a progressive descent into excess. And William embraced it without guilt.
As always, night fell over the ship, covering it with its dark mantle. But this night was different. Aurus called him, breaking the most important rule of the journey: do not go out on deck at night under any circumstance.
William obeyed, though uneasily. As he stepped outside, a cold breeze wrapped around him… but there was something more. An unnatural sensation crept across his skin, piercing straight into his soul. His mind screamed that he shouldn't be there—that something was wrong.
The discomfort quickly grew. It was no longer just a feeling… something was invading him.
"Angel… what the hell is happening to me?"
"Warning! A highly corrosive element has been detected in the environment. Implementing defensive measures… measures failed. The element is seeping through every pore of the body. Erratic behavior. Central nervous system is under attack… brain compromised…"
William collapsed to his knees on the wooden deck, trembling. Angel's voice grew more distorted with each second.
"Anomaly updated. Harmful effects are being contained. Brain shows significant improvements. Previously mutated nodes are absorbing the element. Bloodstream under continuous damage. A balance point will be reached in ten minutes."
Angel's words calmed him. That strange substance was improving his brain… even as it tore his body apart from the inside. It was both a poison and a blessing.
Groaning in pain, clutching his head, he felt his vision blur… until a familiar laugh pierced the darkness. Aurus approached with a smile that mixed amusement and intrigue.
"You're feeling it, aren't you?" he said, eyes gleaming. "The sea's first trial…"