The ship sailed steadily across the sea.
Waves crashed gently against its hull as the morning sun reflected across the endless waters. Most of the soldiers remained on deck, carrying out their duties, while the prisoners were secured below.
Inside his private quarters, Campbell sat alone.The child rested peacefully inside a small wooden cradle beside him.
For what felt like the hundredth time, Campbell studied her.
Every detail.
Every breath.
Every movement.
She appeared ordinary.
Small.Fragile.Helpless.
And yet, he knew she was none of those things.
The words of the surviving midwife still echoed within his mind.
Moon-Caller.
The title alone carried enough weight to change the fate of kingdoms.
According to the ancient bloodlines, a child born beneath the Blood Moon possessed a rare inheritance. Such children were considered royalty among werewolves. Not kings or queens in the traditional sense, but something far older.
Something sacred.Something powerful.The old stories claimed that wolves recognized their authority instinctively.
That they could unite scattered packs.
That they could influence creatures bound by the ancient blood.
Perhaps the legends were exaggerated.
Perhaps not.Campbell was not willing to take that chance.Because if the stories were true...
Whoever controlled the Moon-Caller would possess influence over every werewolf bloodline still hidden within the world.
That truth alone made the child priceless.
Campbell leaned back in his chair.
His eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
Many believed his loyalty belonged entirely to Zoro.
That assumption amused him.
Because the truth was far more complicated.
Long before Zoro had risen to power, there had been others working in the shadows.
Men and women hidden within the military itself.
A secret faction.
An organization known only to a select few.
Their purpose was simple.
Humanity had survived for centuries by fearing supernatural creatures.
By hunting them.By avoiding them.But fear was no longer enough.
The world was changing.
New threats emerged every generation.
Monsters grew stronger.
Ancient powers awakened.
And kingdoms continued pretending they controlled forces they barely understood.
Campbell's faction believed there was only one solution.
If humanity wished to survive...
It needed weapons greater than its enemies.
Zoro sought to create gods.
Campbell's faction sought something different.
God killers.
Weapons capable of destroying anything that threatened mankind.
No matter how powerful.
No matter how divine.
His gaze returned to the sleeping infant.
Perhaps fate had delivered one such weapon directly into his hands.
Or perhaps something even greater.
Yet Campbell was not foolish.
Power alone meant nothing.
A weapon that could not be controlled was useless.
A weapon raised through cruelty often turned against its creator.
The child needed more than protection.
She needed stability.
Guidance.
Affection.
Someone to care for her.
Someone she could trust.
Which was precisely why the woman believed to be her mother had been spared.
Not because Campbell possessed mercy.
Not because he felt sympathy.
Because the child needed someone capable of raising her properly.
A child raised without love would become unpredictable.
And unpredictability was dangerous.
Especially when dealing with a Moon-Caller.
Campbell rubbed his forehead slowly.
The deeper he thought about the situation, the more complicated it became.
One mistake.
One poor decision.
That was all it would take.
The secret he now carried was larger than himself.
Larger than his rank.
Larger than the military.
If the wrong people discovered what he knew, he could easily be branded a traitor.
An enemy of the state.
A threat to the kingdom itself.
The thought irritated him.
Politics always complicated progress.
And so he continued to plan.
To calculate.
To prepare.
Every possible outcome.
Every possible betrayal.
Every possible failure.
Campbell had survived this long because he never allowed himself to be surprised twice.
Eventually, his thoughts drifted toward another matter.
Jeremiah.
A slow smile appeared on his face.
The man was reckless.
Ambitious.
Dangerous.
But he was also useful.
Very useful.
Most men would have discarded him after his failures.
Campbell saw opportunity instead.
Jeremiah possessed knowledge.
Experience.
And above all else...Hatred.
Hatred was a powerful tool when pointed in the right direction.
Perhaps the young commander still had a role to play in what was coming.
Perhaps he could become an asset rather than a liability.
Only time would tell.Campbell rose from his chair and walked toward the cradle.The infant remained asleep.
Completely unaware of the future being planned around her.
Completely unaware that kingdoms, armies, and secret societies were already moving because of her existence.Campbell stared down at her quietly.Then spoke a single sentence.
"Let's see what destiny intends for you, little Moon-Caller."
Outside, the sea continued to carry the ship toward lands unknown.
And with every mile traveled, the shadows gathering around the child grew larger