Elliot carried a large bundle ashore and walked for quite a while before finally encountering someone from Watatsumi Island.
The moment the man saw him, he froze. His pupils widened in shock.
"Sa... Sasayuri... Lord..."
He bowed slightly, his tone stiff and unnatural as he greeted Elliot.
Elliot could clearly feel it—the man was barely restraining his fury while speaking to him.
And rightly so.
To the people of Watatsumi Island, Elliot was like a terrorist who had barged into their warm home—he had killed the father of the family, then demanded that the children call him their father. And if they didn't... they might die.
Elliot didn't bother responding with emotion. He merely gave a cold "Mm" and walked right past him.
The man stood frozen, fists clenched, teeth grinding audibly. Rage clouded his mind, but his last shred of reason screamed not to act on impulse.
After all, Elliot had slain their god. Attacking him would be no different from suicide. It would be pointless.
As Elliot ventured deeper into Watatsumi Island, more and more people appeared along the way.
Those who were close tried to greet him—much like the man earlier—suppressing their resentment while forcing out a polite salutation.
But those watching from afar didn't bother with pretenses. Their gazes were filled with unfiltered hatred, like a pack of wolves lurking in every direction, ready to pounce and tear him apart.
Elliot paid no mind to their feelings and walked on without pause.
He was planning to stay here for a while.
He understood that some things only get worse the more you try to explain them.
He had no intention of justifying himself. The fact that he had personally killed Orobashi couldn't be erased.
And not just Orobashi—the entire force that had accompanied him was wiped out. No survivors.
This kind of hatred couldn't be soothed by words.
Only time could prove anything.
He found a spot halfway up a mountain and dropped the pile of supplies he was carrying. Then, drawing his blade, he cleanly sliced a large tree in half.
With only one hand, his efficiency had taken a serious hit.
Even building a simple wooden hut took a long time.
...
Night fell.
Outside the hut, Elliot lit a fire and slowly brewed himself a pot of tea.
He brought out the food gifted by the villagers of Yashiori Island and calmly enjoyed his tea and snacks under the night sky.
After eating, he meditated for several hours before heading back into the hut to rest.
...
The next morning.
Elliot stepped outside.
His purpose in coming here was simple—to let the people of Watatsumi Island gradually grow used to his presence.
It wasn't something that could be rushed. Time would have to wear down their resistance.
But he wasn't about to just stand around like an idiot waiting for that to happen.
So he decided to go find something to train with—like a nice, small mountain that weighed around 100,000 jin.
As soon as he stepped out, though, he noticed that the wooden hut he'd just built the day before had been plastered with messages.
"Murderer, get off Watatsumi Island!"
"You don't belong here! Go back!"
"There's only one master here—Orobashi!"
"You're not welcome! Go back to where you came from!"
...
The exterior of the hut was completely covered in messages like these—some large, some small, some written horizontally, others vertically.
Elliot had already sensed people approaching the hut the night before.
He'd thought maybe someone would be bold enough to try something while he slept.
But in the end, all they'd done was write on his walls and leave.
"They're still afraid of dying, after all..."
Elliot chuckled and shook his head before walking off in search of training equipment.
He had expected this kind of reaction from the start.
Their "messages" didn't stir even a ripple in his weathered heart.
If this was how they needed to vent, so be it.
Wherever he went, Elliot was met with eyes full of resentment and fury.
No one dared approach him, let alone greet him with kindness. To everyone on the island, he was the enemy.
But Elliot didn't care. He casually munched on pastries while strolling along the path.
As he passed a small house, the door opened and a woman and her daughter stepped out.
The girl looked to be about five or six years old. The mother, likely in her thirties.
When the woman saw Elliot, she froze. Disgust flashed across her face, but she quickly lowered her head and spoke in a respectful tone.
"G-Good morning, Lord Sasayuri..."
"Big brother, how come I've never seen you before?"
The little girl's innocent eyes looked up at Elliot as she asked curiously.
"You can't call him that!"
The mother turned pale the moment she heard her daughter speak. She grabbed the girl and scolded her loudly.
"My lord, this is my daughter. She's young and doesn't know any better—please don't take offense."
She bowed and apologized hastily, terrified that a single moment of displeasure might cost her daughter's life.