The ferry's interior was clean and solid, nothing fancy but far better than most hunter transports. The wooden planks were polished smooth from years of careful use, and the lanterns hanging from the beams gave off a steady, warm glow without the usual smoky haze.
Benches lined both sides of the cabin, sturdy enough to hold armored hunters without creaking under the weight. The air smelled faintly of pine tar and sea salt, but not of rot or neglect—this was a vessel that had been kept in proper shape.
A few hunters sat scattered across the benches, some dozing with their weapons resting at their sides, others speaking quietly about the trials ahead. A corner near the front held a small rack for weapons, where polished blades and bows gleamed faintly in the lantern light.
Toward the back, a table was set with a deck of cards and two empty mugs, abandoned mid-game. The ferry swayed gently with the waves, steady enough that no one worried about their footing. It wasn't luxurious, but compared to the rough, creaking boats Avilio had seen before, this one felt almost… respectable.
The ferry drifted smoothly across the water, its hull cutting through the waves with a steady rhythm. Hunters murmured among themselves, some bragging about past victories, others quietly checking their gear.
Avilio sat near the middle bench, his sword propped against his leg. He said little, his eyes fixed on the faint shimmer of light rippling through the cabin windows. Tora lounged beside him, one arm stretched across the backrest, watching the other hunters with his usual half-smile, as if sizing them all up for later.
Liam sat a little apart, hugging his bow close to him. The boy's eyes darted between the grizzled hunters and the floorboards, nervous yet unwilling to show weakness. Every so often, he caught Avilio watching him. There was no judgment in Avilio's gaze—only a strange, quiet measure, as though he were testing the boy without words. The ferry rocked gently, carrying them northward.
Just a little farther down the bench, a group of hunters had drawn more than the usual attention. Four of them sat close together, their eyes sharp, hands never far from their weapons. In the middle of their circle was a man bound in chains, his wrists and ankles locked with iron cuffs etched with faint runes to suppress movement. He kept his head lowered, hair hanging like a curtain over his face, but every so often his shoulders shifted, the clink of chains cutting through the ferry's hum.
Avilio's eyes lingered not on the prisoner, but on the one sitting opposite him. The man's presence filled the cabin like an unspoken weight. His cloak was plain, but the marker pinned at his chest gleamed a deep orange. A Master.
Even among hunters, such a rank was rare. To see one on a ferry like this, escorting a prisoner, was something worth noting.
Avilio leaned forward slightly, his gaze narrowing. He didn't say a word, but curiosity sparked in his chest. Whatever this man and his party were carrying northward, it was no ordinary business.
Tora followed his gaze, smirking faintly. "What's got your attention now?"
Avilio didn't answer. He was quietly observing what was happening at that place. Tora tilted his head, following his friend's line of sight until his eyes settled on the chained man and the orange marker gleaming on the hunter's cloak.
A slow grin tugged at Tora's lips. "Ah, so that's what caught your eye. That's Jupyter. And the one with the marker? That's Arakan. He's a Master now."
Avilio leaned back slightly, expression unchanged. "Should I know him?"
Tora raised a brow. "Yeah, you should. His party was the winner of last year's Annual Galatico Challenge—the big tournament they hold for parties across the continent. Rule is simple: no group with members above Master rank can participate. And they didn't just win, they crushed the competition."
Avilio's eyes flicked back to the orange marker, silent.
"But," Tora continued, lowering his voice a little, "I knew Arakan before all of that. He's not just some rising star. He's a childhood friend of Selene."
That made Avilio finally turn toward him. His grip on the sword hilt shifted ever so slightly. "Selene?" he repeated, his voice low, almost careful.
Tora gave a slow nod, his smile fading into something more serious. "Oh, I forgot to tell you her name. Selene was my leader from my last party."
Avilio said, "oh".
Tora pushed himself off the bench and nodded toward the group. "Come on, Avilio. Might as well say hello. Wouldn't hurt to meet someone like him."
Avilio gave him a side glance but stood anyway, following as Tora wove through the crowded cabin. Liam, uninterested, leaned against a crate near the corner, hugging his bow close. His eyes stayed down, but his ears were sharp enough to catch every word.
They stopped a few paces from the Jupyter party. Arakan looked up briefly, his expression calm, unreadable, then turned his gaze back to the chained prisoner as though they weren't worth his time.
"Arakan," Tora greeted with a small smile, "been a while."
The Master tilted his head, studying him. His eyes lingered but carried no spark of recognition. "Do I know you?"
Tora chuckled softly. "Not surprised you don't remember every face. But maybe you'll remember me with Selene."
At that, Arakan's composure shifted. His gaze sharpened, and for the first time he truly looked at Tora. The faintest recognition lit his eyes.
"... with Selene," Arakan repeated, his voice quieter, almost weighed down by memory. His eyes flicked over Tora again, this time searching the face, the stance, the way he carried himself. Finally, he exhaled slowly. "Tora. You were with her."
Tora gave a small nod, the grin on his face fading. "Yeah. I was."
"How's Selene? I haven't seen her in months," Arakan asked, his voice carrying a trace of genuine curiosity beneath the stoic front.
Tora's smile thinned. "She's not with me anymore. Our party… it was massacred. I made it out, but she went on ahead—to the Northern Cliffs. If you come with us, you might still find her there."
Arakan leaned back slightly, his expression unreadable. For a moment it seemed he was considering it, but then he shook his head. "Can't. Not this time. I've got other work—playing the hand of justice."
Suddenly, the prisoner threw back his head and broke into wild, echoing laughter. The sound was jagged, too loud for the confined space of the ferry, drawing the eyes of every passenger. A guard from Jupyter stepped forward and slammed his fist into the man's face. Blood sprayed against the deck.
But even with his lip split and blood dripping onto the floor, the man kept smiling.
"Justice…" he muttered hoarsely, before spitting a thick streak of red onto the wood. "You call this justice?"
The crowd murmured uneasily. Avilio's gaze sharpened, and for the first time his voice cut through. "Who is he?"
The question drew Arakan's attention at last. His eyes met Avilio's with cool detachment.
"That," he said, jerking his chin toward the bloodied figure, "is Aquinas. He used to be one of us—a hunter, a capable one at that. But his sense of justice… it twisted into something else. Dangerous." Arakan's tone darkened, each word steady as iron. "Now the Academy will decide how to correct him. To bring his sense of justice back in line."
Aquinas lifted his head slowly, chains rattling at the smallest movement. His swollen lip curled into a mocking grin as he locked eyes with Arakan.
"Correct me?" His voice was raw, broken but sharp enough to pierce through the chatter of the ferry. "No, Arakan. You and your Academy are the ones who need correcting. You don't serve justice, you serve the throne of cowards."
The Jupyter guards tightened their hold, forcing him back down. But his laughter returned, quieter this time, more sinister, as though he enjoyed the weight of his own words.
Tora shifted uneasily, whispering near Avilio's ear. "He's not making sense. Don't get caught up in it."
But Avilio wasn't listening to Tora. His eyes lingered on the man in chains, on the fire in his gaze that no beating could extinguish.
Arakan waved a hand, cutting the whispers. "Ignore him. He's trying to poison minds with his rambling. He'll face judgment when we reach the Academy's tribunal." His voice carried the authority of someone used to being obeyed.
Yet Aquinas leaned forward as far as his shackles allowed, his voice rasping, "You can chain me, Arakan… but you can't chain the truth. One day, even your precious Hunters will see who the real monsters are."
For a moment, silence fell across the deck. Even the waves seemed to hush. Then the guards dragged Aquinas away, out of sight, though his laughter still clung to the air like a curse.
Avilio's hand brushed against the hilt of his sword, though he made no move to draw it. His thoughts stayed locked on Aquinas's words. And for the first time since boarding, Liam looked up from his quiet corner, his small face pale with unease.
"Just because of hunters like him, the credibility of the Academy is being dragged down," Arakan's voice boomed, steady and sharp. "We must realize injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere."
Aquinas let out a dry, broken laugh. His chains clinked as he leaned forward. "And what is justice to you, Arakan? What is injustice? Justice without compassion is nothing but cruelty and cruelty cloaked in righteousness is worse than any injustice."
The deck fell silent. For a heartbeat, only the sound of waves striking the ferry's hull filled the air. Then Arakan's glare hardened. "It's your selfish actions that have dishonored true justice. That's why you'll face what's coming."
The prisoner's smile widened, blood still dripping from his lip. "No, Arakan. What's coming… it's bigger than you."
The tension crackled like a storm about to break. Avilio's fingers tightened unconsciously on his sword hilt. He could feel Liam's eyes darting nervously from the corner, while the rest of the passengers shifted uncomfortably, caught between curiosity and fear.
Tora finally whispered in Avilio's ears. "Enough with this man." He gave Arakan a short bow of respect, then pulled Avilio away from the scene.
As they walked toward the far side of the deck, the prisoner's voice carried after them, faint but unshaken. "Compassion is the only justice…"
Avilio didn't look back. The sea stretched endlessly ahead, the cliffs barely visible at the horizon. Whatever awaited them there, it was already beginning to stir.