Round 6: On the Island (Part 1)

Under Moriel’s guidance, the Fantasy adjusted its course and continued toward the Pearl Islands.
Ror wasn’t dismissed from his position as first mate, but that didn’t improve his mood much—his perpetually gloomy, greenish face made it clear.
“Don’t turn!” Ror roared, abandoning his usual calm demeanor, and ordered the helmsman, “Reduce the sails by half and keep going straight—we can make it through the reefs!”
Moriel looked at the seemingly calm expanse of sea ahead. Amid the waves, faint shadows could be seen here and there—those were the reefs. The towering rock formations rose like sharp swords from the deep sea floor, though most remained beneath the surface, forming a treacherous natural barrier around the Pearl Islands.
“Damn it, I said don’t turn!” Ror cursed, grabbing the wheel to stop the helmsman from trying to avoid the reefs ahead, where jagged black rocks broke the waves like knives, waiting to strike the Fantasy.
Ror was right. At the last moment, the Fantasy was caught in a strange current that automatically steered it away from the reefs. If they had tried to change course recklessly, the outcome would have been uncertain.
“Amazing. How did you detect that current?” Moriel asked in admiration.
“Observation, experience… and instinct.” Watching the ship pass the reefs, Ror sat down tiredly, grabbed an iron bucket, and poured the entire contents over his head.
“They no longer trust me. These damned humans!” Ror spat out salty saliva in anger, muttering curses. “No wonder—I can’t even trust myself anymore… Huh? What’s this…”
He sniffed the seawater on his arm, suddenly stood up, and shouted down at someone below, “Twenty-Six! You bastard, come here! I’m going to whip you good! What did you put in that bucket?”
Twenty-Six, who was on the other side of the deck busy preparing bait for Forty-Seven, shuddered at the first mate’sangry shout and looked up with a pained expression. He had almost become Forty-Seven’s personal servant, working diligently out of fear and gratitude—after all, it was Forty-Seven who had thrown a fishing rod that pinned a shark-man attacking Twenty-Six to the deck, saving his life during the battle against the fishmen.
“Enough,” Moriel said, stopping the first mate from reaching for a whip. “Calm down, First Mate Ror. I believe it wasn’t your fault for accidentally running into the shark-man nest.”
Ror stopped moving and stared at Moriel with his clear blue eyes.
Moriel glanced at the thin clouds in the sky. “Do you really think it was your senses that failed? No… Even when doubted by your crew and in a highly unstable mood, you were able to sense the hidden currents in the sea. I don’t think you’d make such a blatant mistake. Please recall—was there anything unusual when you were scouting the sea? Can you remember anything that seemed off?”
Ror shook his head.

“No. Though I also suspect there might be some interference…” he said sadly, “but in reality, I didn’t feel anything unusual at all. I accounted for the ocean currents, wind directions, and even the larger fish schools in the vicinity—only those damned shark-humanoids were missing. Everything was normal; if anything was abnormal, it was probably just me.”
Morrill shook her head, giving up on questioning Rorl and on using magic to peek into his memories. She didn’t understand why such a suspicious failure would depress a sea elf so much—was it perhaps his pride and sensitivity hidden deep within? For a sea elf who had left his tribe and lived alone among human sailors, this was indeed a severe blow.
“How much longer until we reach the Pearl Islands?” Morrill changed the subject.
“We’re already within the range of the Pearl Islands… If you mean our destination, I think it will be around dusk.” Rorl leaped up, grabbed a rope, and stood on the edge of the ship. “Excuse me for a moment—I need to spend some time in the sea to moisten my skin.”
Just as dusk fell, The Fantasy spotted land.
The Pearl Islands resembled a string of pearls scattered in the waters west of the continent—many islands and reefs spread across the vast sea between Victoria Bay and the Dragon’s Jaw Strait, with even more mysterious ones extending deep into the stormy, cloud-shrouded waters.
The island where The Fantasy anchored was roughly horseshoe-shaped, forming a calm, windless harbor. The island wasn’t small at all; there was even a temple to the Sea Goddess. Naturally, it became a gathering place and shelter for ships, with many sailors, merchants, pirates, speculators, and fugitives who couldn’t stay on land coming and going. Relying on their familiarity with the waters of the Pearl Islands and their fearless spirit, they resisted mainland rule, living by their own unique laws and ways, treating the islands as their paradise for rest, pleasure, and trade. Even Morrill, who had just disembarked, felt that its prosperity was almost on par with that of the port area in Vatan City.
But Simon noticed more than Morrill, who was visiting for the first time.
The staff responsible for ship registration had changed, and the procedures were much more complicated than when Simon had been there last time. There were also more soldiers patrolling the port. There were many ships in the port, but few arriving, and almost none leaving—such a lack of activity was somewhat unusual. Despite his doubts about the abnormal atmosphere on the island, Simon still gave the sailors time off when he returned; he had no choice—these guys were going crazy. However, Twenty-Six and a few other slaves still had to stay on the ship.
“Respected mage,” he said to Morrill, “please forgive my absence. I have some personal matters to attend to… Oh, you can stay at the ‘Broken Skull’ Inn for the night. It’s at the end of the street. Rorl can take you there—it’s one of the best places on the island. All expenses are on me! Just remember Simon Havarian’s name!”

Morrill nodded slightly but declined Rol’s offer to lead the way, as the sea elf was clearly distracted now. “We’ll find that place. I can wander around the island and see if there’s anything that interests me… Don’t worry, Captain Simon. You won’t have to pay.”

Simon bowed in farewell, and Morrill noticed that his curly hair and mustache had somehow become neat and tidy. This guy does bear some resemblance to O’Sullivan, Morrill thought as he walked away along the street.

Simon made his way through the crowded, chaotic buildings. These houses, built according to the island’s terrain, were nothing short of labyrinths, but they posed no challenge to Simon. He turned and turned, his hard leather boots making a distinctive sound on the wooden stairs, until he reached a secluded dead end and stopped in front of an iron door.

He stepped forward and knocked on the door, but felt something unusual under his feet. Looking down, he saw an arm sticking out from a pile of trash beside the door—pale in the dim light, with dark red blood mixed with dirty water flowing from where the body lay all the way to Simon’s feet.

Simon smirked and offered a brief moment of silence for the poor fellow. The sound of a bolt being moved made him look up, and he saw a face with overly muscular features appear in the small window of the iron door.

“Time to clean up, Andy,” Simon said, greeting the man who opened the door as if they were old friends. But the man merely tilted his head and motioned for him to follow.

Inside the iron door was a small courtyard, where several burly men were playing cards, weapons at their sides, without even glancing at Simon.

Entering through a side door, Simon found himself in a small room without stairs. Instead, there was a square platform with railings. He stepped onto it, tilted his head up, and after the guards with crossbows confirmed his identity, they turned a wheel, lifting him up with a creaking sound.

The luxuriously furnished room had no windows, but several whale oil lamps illuminated the space brightly, yet the air remained fresh, without any sense of stuffiness.

“Stay there and don’t dirty my new carpet,” the room’s owner said, preventing Simon from stepping forward to bow. Instead, he was forced to stand on the platform, smiling awkwardly.

Sitting beside the room’s owner was a beautiful maid, dressed only in a thin veil, who lit a long pipe and held it to his mouth. He took a deep drag and slowly exhaled the smoke through his thick nose—immediately filling the room with a strange aroma.

Simon handed his sword to the soldier who reached for it, remaining on the platform, smiling as he waited for orders.

“Simon,” he said slowly, his voice muffled, as if his once muscular body was now stuffed with too much fat. “You know? I had already made plans… If you hadn’t come to see me right after landing, people would have found your torn-to-shreds body in the sewage ditch by morning.”

Simon’s face lit up. “How could that be? Mr. Derek, it truly brings me joy to see you as healthy as ever…”

“Enough!” Derek waved his hand to cut off Simon’s flattery, his thick fingers glinting with gems. “Where’s my Red Wine Queen?”
“Mr. Derek, let me explain…”
“No, I don’t need explanations, you cunning liar!” Derek tapped his gilded pipe on the small table in front of him, making a loud noise. “If everyone who works for me came here empty-handed after losing my goods and ship to explain themselves, I’d go bankrupt in no time! This isn’t the first time you’ve caused me trouble! Last time, and the time before that… I can’t even remember! I’ve had enough of your shameless excuses. I won’t tolerate this again! Tell me, how do you plan to compensate me?”
“Mr. Derek, after all these years of working together, don’t you still know my reputation? You know I’d never let your interests suffer even the slightest loss if there was any chance… But unfortunately, we ran into Sharkmen—Sharkmen! Mr. Derek, it’s already a miracle I’m even here to report this to you…” Simon put on a pitiful expression. Although Derek, a major smuggler and pirate leader, had no sympathy, it was necessary to show fear of his wrath. “And I’ve tried my best to save some of the goods. I assure you…”
Derek exhaled a thick plume of smoke.
“Stop talking nonsense.” Derek rubbed his temple and handed his pipe to the maid, seemingly satisfied. “It seems I need to teach you a lesson to make you realize just how serious your trouble is. Didn’t you pick up a new ship at sea? It’s mine now. Not only the ship, but also your sailors—those are mine too. Maybe then I can overlook the Red Wine Queen… though the previous debts still need to be settled. Now, go and figure out how to raise the money!”
Simon was stunned, then realized Derek actually meant to seize his ship and cut off his means of sailing. He immediately became anxious. “Mr. Derek, Mr. Derek—this won’t work! If you take my ship, how can I serve you? That can’t be done. A captain without a ship is like a knight without a horse…”
“That’s not my concern. Maybe you can find work on someone else’s ship.” Derek yawned, and the maid quickly brought him another cup of tea. “Well, good luck?”
Work for someone else? Simon was well aware of his reputation in the Pearl Islands. If Derek was serious, he might be trapped on this ruined island for a year or two.
But from his observations, Derek wasn’t that serious.
“Mr. Derek, don’t toy with me.” Simon forced a smile. “Tell me, what can I do to make it up to you… as long as you don’t take my ship. By the gods, if I can’t sail, I’ll go mad!”
Derek stroked his shiny forehead and suddenly laughed. “Hahaha… Simon, you really never give up. Very well, I’ll give you a chance.”

“I’ve met a few friends recently…” Derek set down his teacup and picked up a delicate pastry. “And they need a good captain to help them with some tasks. I think you might be willing to use this job to pay off some of your debts?”
“Your friends?” Simon’s voice suddenly became cautious. “What do they want me to do?”
“I don’t want to tell you. It’s simple,” Derek said dismissively. He figured that after being scared by him just now—though it couldn’t really be called scaring; he had merely shown Simon his current situation—this scoundrel, known for his opportunism and ability to get out of trouble, was now trapped. “But it’s nothing serious. Just another usual sea voyage. Take them to Gyojin Island… and then it’s none of your business.”
“Gyojin Island?” The smile vanished from Simon’s face at the mention of that place. “Mr. Derek, are you joking? By the gods, what kind of madman would think of going there? Looking for Gyojin Island? Are these fools amateurs from the land? They’re completely insane!”
“Hey,” Derek warned him with his short, thick fingers. “Don’t speak carelessly. I’m just asking you—will you do it or not?”
Simon understood. Someone who made Derek so anxious must be someone not to be trifled with… or even dealt with at all. As one of the most powerful pirate leaders in the Pearl Islands, Derek had never been this nervous before. Even his tone revealed a faint emotion—fear. He was afraid of those so-called “friends” of his.
If he refused, he might not even be able to leave this room. Simon resisted the urge to reach for his sword, which Andy had already taken away. But Gyojin Island…
Simon decided to take a risky chance.
“Mr. Derek,” Simon said, carefully choosing his words and tone. “No one knows where Gyojin Island is. Even if someone has ever found it in the turbulent depths of the Storm Ocean, they couldn’t possibly return alive… With all due respect, Mr. Derek. If you want to go to Gyojin Island, an ordinary ship won’t do.”
“Tell me, what do you want?”
“The Hermit Crab.”
Derek narrowed his eyes. Simon even felt as if the pirate king’s gaze was piercing his face like needles.
“You’re really a bastard, Simon.” It seemed like a long time passed before Derek slowly spoke. “You really know how to haggle… Well, consider yourself lucky.”
He leaned back on the soft cushions. “Go get ready. My friends want to set off as soon as possible. And remember, if you damage my Hermit Crab again, you won’t get away so easily as you did today—I’ll chop you into pieces and throw you into the sea to feed the sharks. I mean it. Do you understand?”
A smile returned to Simon’s face.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Derek.”
“Then get lost!”
Simon waited, but no one came to release him.
“Go that way! My friends are waiting for you.” Derek half-closed his eyes and pointed to a rather unremarkable side door in the room.

“Is this guy reliable?” After Simon left, a soldier with a crossbow suddenly asked. With those words, all four soldiers underwent some change. Their faces and armor blurred in the shadows, gradually transforming into four arrogant men dressed in black full-body armor meant for priests.
“Reliable?” Derek snorted through his nose.
“The word ‘reliable’ has never been associated with Simon… But if you’re looking for Gyojin Island, he might be the only suitable guide—better even than the sea elves.”
Derek’s spirits dipped. He pointed at his gold pipe, and the maid quickly refilled it with tobacco and lit it to satisfy the pirate king’s craving.
“Still, I stand by what I said before,” Derek said, holding his long pipe. “I’ll send people to help you find Gyojin Island, but that doesn’t guarantee success… I hope my share of the reward will be delivered as agreed once you board the ship.”
“Mr. Derek, you needn’t worry about that,” the black-armored priest said, stepping in front of Derek. “Our cooperation with you has been very pleasant, and we’re very satisfied. There’s one more thing… I’m afraid we’ll need to make another deal with you.”
“Oh?” Derek looked up at the priest. “Another deal? I hope it’s simple. I don’t have anotherhermit crab number. Go ahead, what do you want me to do?”
The black-armored priest spoke in a calm tone, looking down at him.
“Don’t worry, Mr. Derek. This is very simple.”