The fishing village was a tomb.
Ghost Corporation moved through streets that no longer belonged to the living. Wooden docks sagged into grey water, rotting under the weight of years and neglect. Fishing nets hung between abandoned buildings like cobwebs, swaying in the salt-heavy wind. Boats sat half-submerged in the harbor, their hulls splintered and hollow.
The silence was unnatural.
The island had been bled dry, and what remained was a husk.
Elya walked at the front, his white hair stark against the gloom. Behind him: Alexia, her dark eyes scanning every shadow. Lin, red hair like a flame in the grey. Ban, a cigarette smoldering between his lips, smoke trailing into the mist.
They moved in silence, boots crunching over broken stone.
Then—a shape lunged from an alley.Small and desperate.
A boy, skeletal and trembling, stumbled into their path. He couldn't have been older than ten. His clothes hung off his frame in tatters, torn and filthy. His face was smudged with dirt, his eyes hollow and wide.
In his shaking hand, he gripped a rusted fishing knife—far too large for his small fingers.
"B-bring your money!"
His voice cracked and his entire body shook so violently the blade rattled in his grip. Tears streaked down his face, cutting clean lines through the grime.
Elya stopped and the team halted behind him.
The boy's breath came in ragged gasps. He was terrified. But he didn't lower the knife. Whatever had brought him to this point—hunger, desperation, the death of hope—it was stronger than fear.
Elya's golden eyes studied him for a long moment, neither moved.
Then Elya spoke.
"That won't work on us."
The boy flinched, his grip faltering.
Elya started walking again, passing him without a glance.
"But we'll pretend it did."
He reached into his coat, pulled out a single silver coin, and tossed it over his shoulder.
The coin spun through the air, glinting faintly, and landed at the boy's feet with a soft clink.
The boy stared at it then at Elya's retreating back.
His knife clattered to the ground.
"Please!"
Elya didn't stop.
"I—I don't know why you're here, but—" The boy's voice broke. "Kill that bastard king!"
Elya's footsteps slowed.
The boy was crying now, words tumbling out between sobs, desperate and raw.
"He took our home from us! He killed my parents! Now I'm here with my sister, trying to find food, trying to survive—" His voice cracked into a whisper. "Please. Please help us. Take our island back."
Elya turned.
The boy stood there shaking, tears streaming down his dirt-smudged face. His hands were clenched into fists at his sides.
Elya's expression didn't change.
"I won't do it for free," he said, his voice cold and even. "You need to pay."
The boy's breath hitched.
He looked down at the coin lying in the dirt. His hands trembled as he bent down, picked it up, and held it out.
"Then... then this. Take it. It's all I have."
Elya walked back and took the coin.
Their eyes met.For a moment, the boy saw something flicker in those golden eyes.Something that understood loss.
Elya turned and walked away.
As he passed Ban, the golden-haired man caught the faintest pull at the corner of Elya's mouth.
Ban exhaled a plume of smoke and smirked back.
They continued deeper into the town.
The devastation became clearer with every step.
Broken houses lined the streets, their roofs caved in, walls crumbling. Some had burned. Others had simply collapsed under their own weight, left to rot. People sat in the ruins—survivors, if they could be called that. Hollow-eyed and gaunt, they watched the strangers pass with blank expressions.
Some slept on the streets, curled against walls with nothing but rags for warmth.
Others didn't move at all.
Elya continued to flip the coin given to him by the boy.
His fingers moved in a rhythm, mechanical and steady, as they walked through the graveyard of Vaelcrest's conquest.
Lin's jaw tightened. His fists clenched at his sides, knuckles white.
Ban took a long drag from his cigarette, his eyes narrowing.
Alexia's gaze swept the ruins.
Then they saw a boy.
He was younger than the first—no more than six or seven. He sat in the dirt beside a still form lying in the middle of the street.
His mother.
The body had been there for days. No one had moved it. No one had the strength.The boy wasn't crying anymore,he just stared.
Lin stopped walking.
His breath came harder, faster.
"Lin," Alexia said quietly.
He didn't respond.
Ban placed a hand on his shoulder. "Keep moving."
Lin's fists shook but he walked.
Elya continued to flip the coin and kept walking.
An old man emerged from a shattered doorway as they passed. His face was weathered, lined with years of salt and sun, but now sunken with starvation. He leaned heavily on a cane, his clothes little more than rags.He raised a trembling hand and pointed north toward the fortress.
Elya nodded once.
The old man stepped back into the shadows.
Ahead, the fortress loomed.
It was massive—a structure of dark stone and iron, built into the cliffs overlooking the sea. Watchtowers jutted from its walls like broken teeth. Torches burned along the battlements, casting flickering light across the approaching mist.
Ban flicked his cigarette to the ground and crushed it under his boot. "Three Generals, huh?"
Lin cracked his knuckles, red hair catching the dim light. "Good. I was getting bored."
Alexia released her Spada, testing its weight. "Stay sharp. They've had time to prepare."
Elya's golden eyes fixed on the fortress gates.
He reached into his coat and pulled out the coin.Looked at it for a moment then flipped it one last time.
"Let's go to work."
From the highest tower of the fortress, a figure watched. A tall man cloaked in shadow.
He smiled.
"Welcome, Ghost."