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Bonus Chapter:
The ocean breeze carried laughter across the deck of the Shader's Dawn. For once, there was no immediate storm to fight, no commander bearing down on them. The crew gathered near the bow, Emily holding up a newspaper that had been tossed onto their ship from a passing merchant vessel. Her hands shook as her eyes scanned the bold print, and then she froze, the words catching in her throat.
Her lips parted. "You're… you're not going to like this."
Hunter leaned lazily on the railing, a slice of bread in his hand, grinning as if danger had never once been part of his life. "C'mon, Emmy, you look like you've seen a ghost. What's it say? They finally recognized my dashing good looks?"
She shoved the paper at him. "Don't joke! Look!"
The front page screamed with black ink:
HUNTER J. CRAFT – WANTED
Bounty: 37 Million Emies (1.5 Stars)
For crimes against Autumnvale.
The grainy sketch beneath showed him smiling — too confident, too casual — the kind of grin that, to people who didn't know him, looked like arrogance born from cruelty.
Vince snatched the paper from Hunter's hands, his jaw tightening as he scanned the details. "Autumnvale…" His voice dropped. "They twisted it."
Hunter leaned over, squinting at the poster version of himself. Then, instead of panicking, he threw his head back and laughed. "Thirty-seven million? For me? Hah! Look at that grin, they caught my good side!" He winked, trying to break the tension, but none of them laughed with him.
Emily wrung her hands, panic creeping into her voice. "Hunter, this isn't funny. A 1.5-star bounty means every Miner, bounty hunter, and rogue-hating villager is going to be after us! They've made you out like you're—like you're—"
"Like I'm dangerous," Hunter finished for her. His grin softened, but didn't disappear. "Guess that makes me official now."
Ryder folded his arms, looking guilty. "It must've been Autumnvale… they think we caused all of that. Because of me. Because of my home."
James, leaning coolly against the mast, spoke for the first time, his British accent calm, cutting through the tension like steel. "No. This isn't your fault, lad. It was never going to end cleanly. You put your neck out against the U.I.C. — there's always a price." He tapped the newspaper. "This bounty isn't truth. It's politics."
The crew fell into silence, each processing the weight of it. Then the page rustled in Vince's hand as his eyes narrowed at the small print detailing "rogue destruction, public endangerment, and the subversion of lawful authority."
He lowered the paper, his voice dark. "They want the world to think we're villains."
Hunter's eyes, usually so carefree, flickered with something sharper. For a moment, he looked back at the waves, his reflection shifting in the water. Then he turned with his usual grin, masking everything. "Well, if they want a villain, they're getting me at my best."
And so the paper slipped from their hands, fluttering across the deck in the wind.
This is what really happened in Autumnvale.
---
The smoke had barely cleared that night when the villagers stumbled out of their shattered homes. Fires burned in the distance, painting the sky red. Children cried in the arms of their mothers. Broken tools, shattered carts, and crumbled stone littered the once-proud village square. And in the midst of it, rumors already spread like wildfire.
"They brought the trouble here."
"Those strangers — the rogues."
"I saw one of them laughing while buildings burned!"
But what most had really seen was Hunter dragging children out from under collapsed rubble, Ryder shielding goats with his body, Vince cutting down soldiers who threatened civilians. What they didn't understand — what they weren't meant to understand — was that the fight had been sparked by the U.I.C. themselves, pillagers hunting for something buried deep beneath Autumnvale.
Yet truth was fragile. And the Accord was quick to shatter it.
---
In a cold chamber lit by emerald lanterns, a round table of World Accord officials sat in silence as U.I.C. envoys reported. One was a vindicator with scarred arms, another an evoker with eyes like dead glass.
"Our commander, Ragnor, failed his mission," the evoker hissed. "But the destruction will suffice. We have acquired… fragments."
"And the rogues?" asked an Accord officer, his quill scratching against parchment.
"They interfered," the vindicator spat. "They painted themselves heroes. But the village burned just the same."
The lead official — a man with sharp cheekbones and a voice like rust — leaned back in his chair. "Then the narrative writes itself. Autumnvale was ravaged by rogue pirates. The U.I.C. was never there. Their name stays clean, their usefulness unbroken."
And so the decree was sealed: Hunter J. Craft, instigator of Autumnvale's ruin, to be branded as a Rogue menace.
---
The first posters went up in Java's busy ports.
Children pointed and whispered.
Merchants spat curses.
Old men shook their heads with disapproval.
"Thirty-seven million! Imagine what you could buy with that!"
"Look at his grin. He looks proud of it."
"Disgusting. Another boy thinking he can spit on the law."
But not everyone saw him the same.
A fisherman leaned in close to the poster, his brow furrowed. "That look in his eyes… he doesn't look cruel. He looks… free."
---
And so the word spread. Across villages and ships, the name "Hunter J. Craft" took on weight it had never carried before.
---
At dusk, in a Miner stronghold far from the seas, a group of armored men stood by as more posters were nailed to the walls. One Miner grunted, shaking his head. "Another brat rogue with a death wish. Won't last long."
But behind them, a taller figure stepped into view. Hendrick Nestor.
He wore his commander's coat loosely, as if even the uniform of the Accord meant little to him. His eyes scanned the poster slowly, taking in every curve of the boy's grin, the sharpness in his stare. Unlike the others, Nestor didn't dismiss it.
The men around him laughed. "Bet he'll be caught in a week."
But Nestor said nothing. He reached out, tearing one poster from the wall, folding it carefully into his coat. His gaze lingered on the horizon as the torches flickered against stone.
For the first time in years, there was a glint of interest in his eyes.
---
And somewhere at sea, aboard the Shader's Dawn, the boy in the poster laughed too loudly, his smile hiding the storm that was already chasing them.
The legend of Hunter J. Craft had begun.
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