The ship that had housed over one hundred and fifty people over the course of four days finally landed on what would be a Sunday morning on the continent of Zhad.
It was a cold, crisp morning where the sun had only just started to rise and the animals were only barely beginning to stir.
The ship had docked on an inlet to the west of a large castle around twenty kilometers away.
Waiting for the vessel at the dock was the head of the demonic cult, along with fifty of his soldiers.
Kyoen Jiraigumo seemed to have a permanent scowl affixed to his face as he watched the passengers on board the vessel disembark one by one.
With calculating eyes, he analyzed every hand-picked soldier chosen by his fellow heads and nearly let out an audible scoff of disapproval.
'Barely passable at best... At the first sign of trouble I am going to cut them lose by any means.'
