The island of Olvira was supposed to be a hidden gem, a place where the few permanent residents—mostly retired fishermen and hermits—could live out their days without ever hearing a word about continental politics.
Old Man Barnaby was one such resident. He had lived on the north cliff for thirty years, and his only friends were a one-eyed seagull and a bottle of high-proof Lutrian rum.
Barnaby stumbled down the hidden jungle path, the glass bottle clinking against the wooden charms on his belt. "Just a quick sunset swig," he muttered, his voice raspy from decades of salt air. "Then back to the shack before the sand-fleas start biting."
He pushed through the last thicket of hibiscus and stepped onto the pristine white sand. The sun was at that perfect, bleeding angle where the world turns gold.
Then he looked to his left.
The beach, which had been empty for three decades, was now home to a gathering that defied every law of nature Barnaby knew. It was a sea of shimmering white hair—thousands of people, all standing or lounging in a silence so heavy it felt like a physical weight.
At the center of it all sat a young man with long, snowy hair, casually stirring a pot of coffee over a small fire.
As Barnaby's boot crunched on a stray seashell, the silence broke.
Simultaneously, as if choreographed by a god, the group turned.
Leornars looked up from his fire, his eyes igniting with a piercing, luminescent crimson that seemed to see through Barnaby's very soul.
Stacian, standing beside him, tilted her head. Her eyes glowed a crystalline, electric blue that made the surrounding ocean look dull.Out in the surf, the massive Zaryter was frozen mid-stride. A small, brave crab had clamped onto his elbow. Zaryter's eyes burned like molten rubies as he stared at the tiny crustacean in genuine shock.Ayesha, lounging on her purple floatie, slowly lowered her sunglasses with one finger. Her eyes pulsed with a dark, royal violet that made the air around her shimmer with heat,and from the canopy of a nearby palm tree, Salene hung upside down. She was casually holding a black panther by the base of its tail, lifting the predator off the ground like a stray kitten. Her eyes glowed a predatory, neon cyan.
Barnaby stood frozen. The bottle of rum felt very heavy in his hand. He looked at the glowing eyes, the white hair, the casual display of mountain-shattering power, and the sheer strangeness of a dragon-man being bullied by a crab.
He didn't scream. He didn't run. He slowly raised the bottle, looked at the label, and sighed.
"Yeah... I'm definitely quitting the alcohol."
He tossed the bottle into a nearby trash bin—with surprising accuracy—turned on his heel, and walked back into the jungle without looking back once.
"Who's he?" Sumi asked, resting a volleyball on her hip. Her own red eyes faded back to a soft rose color as she watched the old man vanish.
"Must be a resident," Zhyelena said, stretching her arms above her head. "He seemed... remarkably well-adjusted for someone who just saw a girl holding a panther by its tail."
"Probably," Avryl said, stepping out from the shadow of a large rock. She looked every bit the part of the 'White Devil' family—long silver hair, glowing red eyes, and a vibrant pink swimsuit that clashed wonderfully with her pale skin. "But isn't this a private island? Could have swore it was."
"Avryl? Where have you been?" Stacian asked, tucking a strand of her own hair behind her ear. "I haven't seen you since we cleared the Dirrium border."
"Spying in Dirrium and the Durmount Kingdom, Lord Leornars's orders," Avryl replied, checking her nails. "Can't complain, though. I didn't do much, just watched the priests turn purple and reported daily. They spend a lot of time shouting at stone tables. It's quite loud."
"Then your job's done?" Zhyelena asked with a smirk.
"Yap," Avryl chirped. She took a running start and leaped toward the water. "Cannonball!"
She flew through the air and landed with a massive splash—directly on top of Zaryter, who was still trying to negotiate with the crab on his elbow.
"I'm not a stool, you moron!" Zaryter bellowed, his voice echoing off the cliffs as he emerged from the water, dripping wet and looking like an angry mountain.
The beach erupted into laughter. The undead soldiers—who usually stood like statues—began to chuckle and jeer at the big man's misfortune.
Leornars watched the chaos with a faint, genuine smile. He poured a cup of coffee and handed it to Stacian.
The island was a masterpiece of nature. The sand wasn't just white; it was made of crushed quartz that sparkled like diamonds under the violet sky. The trees were lush, heavy with fruits that smelled like honey and ginger.
"The world thinks we're plotting their demise," Leornars murmured, looking at Salene, who had finally let the panther go and was now trying to see if she could balance a coconut on its head.
"Let them think it," Stacian replied, taking a sip of the coffee. "It keeps them away. Although... that old man might start a new religion based on sobriety now."
"See?" Leornars thought back, amused. "Even on vacation, I'm doing good."
"What ever he'll tell his friends noone will believe, imagine trying to convince people you saw over eighty thousand people who look alike on the beach " stacian adds with a laugh
Far out on the horizon, the silhouette of the Dirrium diplomatic ship was getting larger. The peace was temporary, but as Leornars watched his 'family' play in the waves, he realized he didn't care about the ship. If they wanted to interrupt a beach day, they were going to learn why the ocean was a dangerous place for fools.
"Zaryter!" Leornars called out.
"Yeah, boss?" The giant looked up, finally free of the crab.
"If that ship gets within a mile, don't sink it. Just... move it. Somewhere else. Maybe the North Pole."
Zaryter grinned, his teeth white and sharp. "With pleasure."