As their ship cut through the waves, Tio cast one last glance at the land behind them. The darkness that had once swallowed the land whole was gone, replaced by a raging inferno. Flames devoured everything in sight, their glow stretching across the horizon like the final breath of a dying beast.
"…I hope they've got some good builders." His voice was laced with dry sarcasm, but the weight of exhaustion made the joke fall flat. He sighed, gripping the wheel a little tighter.
A heavy thud landed beside him as the medic dropped from the crow's nest onto the helm, moving with the eerie silence of someone too used to chaos. His coat, his hands—his entire body—was drenched in blood, as if he had been baptized in carnage.
Tio glanced at him, then quickly looked away. "…Was that supposed to be a joke?" the medic asked, his tone unreadable.
"I guess I tried," Tio muttered. "Didn't really work out." His eyes flickered back to the medic, his lips pressing into a thin line. "But, uh… you might wanna do something about all that blood. You're kinda dripping. Everywhere."
The medic exhaled through his nose, finally glancing down at himself. Then, with a slow shrug, he simply wiped a hand across his cheek—succeeding only in smearing the blood further.
Tio groaned. "That didn't help at all."
The medic gave a half-hearted shrug before turning away, heading down to the lower deck to wash the blood from his skin. The scent of iron still lingered in the air, mixing with the salty breeze.
Rosaline exhaled, sheathing her sword as the glow in her irises faded back to their natural violet. She glanced up at Tio, her expression unreadable. "So, where the hell do we go now?"
Tio leaned against the helm, staring at the open sea before them. "How about Velmara Isle? The 'Festival of a Thousand Lanterns' is coming up soon. It's close by, and I'd rather be surrounded by lanterns and booze than whatever the hell that was back there." His gaze shifted between Rosaline and Celestia, waiting for their response.
Celestia stretched, letting out a small sigh. "Sounds good to me. I need some time to relax." With that, she turned, making her way below deck toward her quarters without another word.
Rosaline crossed her arms, her eyes flickering toward the horizon. After a long pause, she nodded. "Fine. Velmara Isle it is." Then, without another glance, she disappeared below deck as well.
Now alone, Tio let out a long, slow breath, leaning back against the wooden railing of the helm. His fingers tightened on the wheel as his mind drifted back to what had happened at the hotel. The giant book. The suffocating darkness. The distant echoes of wolves hunting in the void, their howls clawing at his senses. The lifeless bodies torn apart, strewn across the halls like discarded puppets. And he—blind, staggering through the blackened corridors, guided only by instinct.
His jaw clenched. "What the hell was that?" He muttered under his breath.
No matter how much he tried to rationalize it, nothing made sense. He had seen and read about powerful abilities before, but that… that was something else entirely.
"I don't get it… I've never seen anything like that. Hell, I haven't even read about shit like that."
Rosaline leaned against the wooden wall of the ship, arms crossed, her violet eyes studying Celestia with quiet scrutiny.
"Alright, Celestia… what the hell happened back there?"
Celestia hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly at her sides. She forced her expression to remain neutral, tilting her head in feigned confusion.
"I have no clue…" she muttered, her voice carrying just the right amount of uncertainty. "I blacked out for more than half of it. Why? What happened?" Her eyes flicked toward Rosaline, feigning curiosity.
For a moment, Rosaline held her gaze, searching for something—truth, maybe. Then, with a quiet sigh, she looked away.
"Nothing, then… don't worry about it."
She turned and disappeared into her room, the soft click of the door closing behind her leaving an odd weight in the air.
Celestia's expression remained unchanged, but as soon as she was alone, her lips pressed into a thin line. Her golden eyes narrowed, a subtle tension settling in her chest.
"…This is going to be a pain in my ass," she muttered under her breath. Her fingers twitched slightly. "I don't think I made the right choice…"
Then, she felt it.
Someone was watching her.
Her head snapped toward the hallway—but there was no one. Only the dimly lit corridor stretching into the ship's depths.
Farther down, the medic walked away at a casual pace, disappearing into a room without a single glance back. A faint smirk played on his lips as he closed the door behind him.
"I'll have to keep my eye on her… for quite a while."
Celestia exhaled sharply, shaking her head before stepping into her room. As soon as she crossed into her room, the system activated.
━━━『 Villainous System 』━━━
Enchanted weapon forged from the skin of Serakaris. Choose which weapon you would like.
Serakaris's Rapier
Serakaris's Katana
Serakaris's Spear
Serakaris's Dual Daggers
Serakaris's Scythe
Serakaris's Greatsword
Serakaris's Knife
Serakaris's Branch
Serakaris's Barrel
Serakaris's Chair
Serakaris's Void Reaver
Serakaris's Twinfang
Celestia's breath hitched slightly.
Her eyes scanned the list again, her brow furrowing. "…A chair? A barrel? A branch? How the hell do you even use those as weapons?" She muttered to herself, shaking her head.
With a sigh, she extended her hand and selected the rapier.
The moment she did, a deep crimson glow pulsed through the room, casting eerie shadows along the walls. For a split second. Then, just as quickly, the glow vanished.
Resting on her bed was the rapier.
The blade itself was a striking fusion of black and crimson, the two colors swirling together like veins of obsidian and blood. The hilt, wrapped in smooth white leather, felt almost too perfect. The guard was adorned with an intricate engraving of a fox, its eyes sharp, almost watchful.
Celestia stepped forward, staring at the weapon before finally reaching down.
The moment her fingers wrapped around the hilt, a strange sensation ran through her—something cold, yet familiar. She lifted the rapier with ease, giving it a few test swings and thrusts.
"Damn… this feels amazing."
It wasn't overly heavy, nor was it weightless. It had just the right amount of balance—a perfect weight for a blade.
Satisfied, she set her old rapier down on the wooden table before fastening the new one to her waist.
"Yeah… this'll do just fine."
Rosaline stood in front of the mirror, her violet eyes studying her reflection in silence. Dried blood streaked her cheek. With a slow breath, she wiped it away with the back of her hand, though the feeling of it remained, like a ghost clinging to her skin.
She stepped out of her room and made her way down the dimly lit corridor toward the supplies room. The scent of preserved goods and dried herbs lingered in the air as she rummaged through the shelves, eventually pulling out a loaf of warm bread—kept fresh through preservation magic.
She returned to her room, the door clicking shut behind her. With practiced ease, she sliced into the loaf, the soft crunch of the crust breaking the silence. Taking a slow bite, she leaned back against her bedpost, exhaling as the warmth of the food settled her nerves.
Her eyes fluttered shut for a moment, exhaustion creeping in—but she kept eating, savoring the rare moment of peace.
Tio sat against the ship's rails, arms folded behind his head as he let the cool night breeze wash over him. The waves rocked the vessel gently, a rhythm that had long become second nature.
Someone picked up a bow and an arrow before cocking it all the way and let it fly towards the sea.
Then—a sharp whistle.
An arrow tore through the air, surging past him and plunging into the water with a faint splash.
Tio snapped upright, his heart hammering in his chest as his eyes locked onto the distant shoreline of Sylvaria. The land was nothing but a dark silhouette against the horizon.
He scanned the area, waiting—expecting something to emerge from the shadows.
Nothing.
The silence stretched, the only sound the rolling waves against the hull.
He exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Tch… I must be more tired than I thought." He thought before he sat back as he closed his eyes again.
A lone elf crouched amidst the ruins, his breath ragged, his body trembling with fury and pain. His once-immaculate robes were in tatters, soaked in blood—some his own, most not. His burning green eyes reflected the inferno around him as he sank his teeth into the still-warm flesh of a darkened wolf, tearing into it with savage desperation. The beast let out a final, weak whimper before going still, its corrupted life finally snuffed out.
He spat out a chunk of sinew, his mouth smeared with blood, his mind drowning in rage. The screams of his kin echoed in his ears, their faces flashing in his mind—friends, family, warriors—ripped apart, devoured, erased from existence.
A deep, guttural scream tore from his throat, raw with grief and unrelenting fury. His legs carried him forward before his mind could even catch up, feet pounding against the scorched earth as he sprinted toward the docks. His vision blurred—not from exhaustion, but from sheer, blinding hatred.
"The cowards. The murderers."
His fingers twitched, aching for a blade, for something—anything—to carve justice into their flesh.
His nails dug into his own palms, warm blood trickling between his fingers as a single, unshakable vow seared itself into his soul.
"I will kill them all. No matter what.I swear I'll get revenge for my brethren.I swear upon my name.
Bake Meekerson."