"There is nothing else to be done then. I shall take my leave now."
Standing up steadily, Vaelmyr shook the purple-haired man's hand again before taking a step towards the door.
After finishing their discussions on Aaron Grimstall and when they would interact with him, they had decided on three things.
First, they would meet him in the Sea of Mystery during his second mission, where he would explain how he deceived Lepaie Quinn.
Second, if he accepted the deal, they would assess his strength in a duel against one another, gauging whether he could truly be of use.
And finally, most importantly, offer him the reward for his cooperation, the right to partake in the Trials of God in the following year.
This event that happened rarely was the greatest test that would be held throughout the entire world.
Whoever completed the Trials of God would achieve the honor of inheriting Orion Cosmoti's Ghostship.
When held previously to choose the King of Souls, Vaelmyr Droskyn had achieved victory after being tested by all living Kings.
If Aaron Grimstall were given the permission to participate, he would face the strongest people in the world, whether it be Marshals, Commodores, or even Admirals.
After the confirmation that Cosmoti's Ghostship was located without a connection to its wielder, it was decided among the five remaining Kings to host these trials once again.
Now, in the present day, these two Kings planned to sponsor Grimstall through those trials, allowing him a chance at inheriting a Ghostship.
"Do you think he will have what it takes to claim it? You only passed by one vote, and if he hadn't accepted you, then it would've been pointless."
Lepaie spoke quietly to the large back of Lord Droskyn, who had stopped his walk to the doorway.
Turning his head around slowly, the white-haired man faced his fellow King, a smile spreading across his face as he had an idea.
"If he passes, then you won't be the weakest King anymore…"
Lepaie's face reddened from the obvious slander, hurriedly standing up to face Vaelmyr, annoyed.
"White-haired bastard…"
The two middle-aged men began to bicker with each other, their argument sounding not like two Kings, but rather, children.
Outside the door, Irvin and Solister, who had been guarding the doorway, coughed lightly, looking at each other awkwardly.
In a loud explosion of force, the door swung open, nearly knocking the first mate of the King of Souls over as his captain stormed out.
"YOU BETTER BE THERE!"
His angry shout was directed at the purple-haired man who stormed out behind him, nearly knocking Irvin over.
Lepaie yelled back at Vaelmyr, anger evident in his voice.
"I WOULDN'T BACK OUT!"
Reaching the edge of the ship, they both launched into the air, soaring through the sky and into the sea.
Every man or woman who stood aboard the Ghostships, including the skeletal creatures on the green-sailed ship, watched as the two men swam in competition westward.
"W-where the hell are they going?"
One man, the helmsman of Lepaie's vessel, asked Irvin quietly.
Lepaie's first mate sighed, brushing sawdust from his shirt.
When he spoke, his voice was calm as he shook hands with Solister.
"Which island is it this time?"
There was a silence as the black-haired man looked into the distance, squinting hard.
"Looks like a deserted one in the Sea of Wishes. It shouldn't take as long as last year, so we'll be fine…"
Scratching the back of their heads, the two first mates returned to their posts, ordering around their crewmates quickly.
Both men spoke at the same time, the same words as they had spoken the year prior, after a similar argument ensued.
"Lord Quinn and Lord Droskyn will engage in a sparring match to the west! Brace for impact!"
The elder members of the crew immediately paled, rushing around the Ghostship, buckling down anything that could be buckled.
Rookies looked around, confused; however, following their seniors' example, they braced for whatever was about to happen.
As the two men climbed out of the sea onto the island, the air stilled, the sea pausing for a moment in preparation.
They faced each other, looks of annoyance plastered across both their faces as they held their weapons in their hands.
Even the gulls stopped their cries as the Kings stared each other down, the waves, once endless in rhythm, waited as if the sea itself dared not interrupt them.
"Like before, no interference or magic! Agreed!?"
Lepaie yelled out as he raised his pistol, aiming it at the Gravekeeper's forehead.
"Of course! I'm no coward!"
Holding his shovel in front of him, he took a step forward, the hard rocky terrain of the island trembling in anticipation.
Then, with the thunderous applause of lightning in the dark sky above, the two Kings raced across the rock.
BANG! BANG! BANG!
The air split with heat—sound itself seamlessly bleeding under the sheer force exerted onto it.
Three shots were fired out in haste, each bullet flying through the air at such speed that not even gravity could claim them.
Parrying with his shovel, Vaelmyr deflected the shards of metal easily, launching forward and shattering the ground.
Rock shot out, spewing in every possible direction with the speed and force of a meteor, grazing the cheek of the purple-haired King.
Before he could even alternate his weapon shape, the King of Souls collided with him, sending them both tumbling over the edge of the cliff.
Raging white-capped waves slammed against the shoreline, and sharp pillars of rock jutted up from the sea floor, seemingly welcoming the falling men.
Using his leg to wrap around the white-haired man, Lepaie reached his gun arm backwards, charging up for a strike.
Then, with a deafening crack, he slammed the pistol barrel into Vaelmyr's skull, the man's furious roar lighting up the night sky.
Not wasting a second, Quinn dug his knuckles into his collarbone, knocking the man off of him, the ever-approaching sea gaining on them quickly.
Kicking himself off the King of Souls, he aimed his pistol at the falling man, firing twice before they both collided with the water.
As they sank into the murky depths, the bullets missed the man, instead, digging into the coral reef below them.
Pressure forced itself down upon their ribs, every movement a battle against the weight of the oceans' might.
Dazed and reeling from the collarbone strike, Vaelmyr barely dodged another barrage of undersea bullets from the purple-haired man, reaching out to grab his shirt.
Feeling his fingers wrap around his sleeve, he pulled with all his force, dragging the King of Dreams deeper into the icy waters.
Sharks, whales, and terrors tailed the men; however, with each strike releasing more and more force, they could not approach the fighting duo.
If the two had used mana, anything within a kilometer radius would have been vaporized, the sheer force of their bare-handed collision already sending shockwaves throughout the region.
Vaelmyr, who barely gripped Lepaie's shirt, swung his shovel downward, the water pressure being absorbed into the hilt only to shoot out in a tidal burst.
Distancing himself after the strike, Quinn forced his weapon ahead of him, shifting its style into that of a sniper rifle.
Letting the twisted refraction of the water guide his aim, he steadied the colossal rifle and fired eight shots, every bullet the size of a fish.
Slamming his shovel against the metallic projectiles, Vaelmyr dove forward, tackling the purple-haired man to the sea floor.
Sand and salt exploded into sight, basking the depths in a chaotic haze that hid the sound of bullets.
Coral shot out of the darkness, various fish beheaded in seconds as the two opposing auras created a whirlpool of power.
Sound vanished—only the crack of their impact and the hiss of bubbles marked the passing of each strike.
Bursting out of the dust cloud, Lepaie dodged a downward strike from his opponent while feinting a kick to the white-haired man's side.
Attempting to block the false strike, Vaelmyr left his head open, a barrage of bullets raining down upon his skull.
Grazing his ear gently, a thin trail of blood filled the water, anger erupting from the King's form as he became serious.
Rushing forward, he grabbed Lepaie's shoulders, slamming him into the coral reef below, reshaping the terrain in an instant.
Digging his shovel into the purple-haired man's wrist, he twisted it upward, disarming his weapon from his hand in a flash.
Shooting his hands downward against the King's neck, he barely dodged a strike by the pinned man's knee.
The shockwave radiated throughout the destroyed terrain, and the island they had originally fought on sank slightly into the waves.
Lightning crackled far above their heads, the insane currents threatening to drag the men further down into the depths of the sea.
Realizing that he was soon to be out of air, Lepaie thrust his pointer finger into the white-haired man's neck, striking between his windpipe and spine.
As Vaelmyr fell backwards in reaction, the two Kings engaged in a brawl of fists, both discarding their weapons while descending deeper and deeper into the dark waters.
Pressure built up around them, their ears threatening to shatter under the weight of the ocean; however, they remained locked together.
Hooking a strike into Vaelmyr's side, Lepaie felt him fly backwards only to reappear and elbow his jaw.
Preparing another strike at the purple-haired King, Vaelmyr swung his arm at his skull, attempting to end the spar.
Ducking the powerful swing, Quinn reached around his muscular frame, taking down the tumbling giant and dragging him to the sea floor.
In the distance, an approaching mid-level terror felt the commotion, deciding to devour the creatures who had invaded its terrain.
However, when it got within the radius of the brawl, its form was instantly ripped to shreds, bones split into hundreds, flesh stretched to infinity.
There was no stopping the raging Kings as they brawled, blood and dust filling the water as each strike reshaped the terrain around them.
Schools of fish fled, and even the trench dwellers hid in the holes they called home.
The ocean itself recognized two of its truest monarchs who governed over its sphere of influence, batting its hellspawn.
Finally, throwing two strikes to Lepaie's neck and groin, the two reached the edge of the island's underwater branch.
A trench delving thousands of meters into the sea sat below them as they overlooked its edge, the blackness of the depths staring back at them.
The water grew colder than breath, darker than memory.
Below them, the trench pulsed once—something vast shifting in the darkness of the Abyss, watching their every movement.
Bubbles drifted upward from both men's mouths as they began to run out of air, finally noticing how far they'd traveled.
As they had been on the edge of Crescent Moon's End when they had been chatting, and now they had gone west, they hadn't changed their longitude when finding an island.
Therefore, as they had been brawling, they had accidentally ended up towards the north of the sea, reaching the very edge of a place where not even they dared to enter.
Gazing off into the distant black fog that floated under the sea surface, the two men watched as Apex terrors eyed them hungrily, yet stayed their distance, understanding their place.
Realizing together that they had reached the very edge of the Abyss, the two men abandoned their spar, swimming towards the surface.
Both men's legs burned; the salt tasted like the blood and triumph of a hard-earned victory.
Breaking the wave line, they hurriedly swam to the island that had been partially submerged under the sea.
Arguing about who won their duel as they swam, the two men finished their annual battle against one another.
For two friends, a fight at the edge of the world was truly the most entertaining they could get, and both men, regardless of how annoyed they were with the outcome, felt pride in their fight.