Stiles, who had a lot of pent-up stress, stared at the horizons, awaiting the prey for his building anger.
He had changed his clothing to a casual white T-shirt, black trousers, and a red furry coat with a white collar.
The soldiers on the fortress wall looked at him with a glint of awe in their eyes. After all, they had heard of his new role as their ruler, and that it was handed to him by George Louis Albert, a king they revered.
A soldier dressed in black and green checkered uniform, rushed to Stiles' side, bending his back forward in a sign of respect.
"They have entered our waters."
The soldier only said those words, not adding any other details so as not to appear presumptuous.
"What of Alexia? Has she not found the vision aid?" Stiles questioned, still staring into the distance.
"She didn't want to take from the other soldiers, so she headed for the factory," The male answered, only replying to the question that was asked.
"Prepare to set things in motion… I hope you know what to do?" Stiles finally shifted his head slightly, observing the soldier from the corner of his eye.
Despite the individual before him being a kid, he could not help but shudder in fear, bending his back further to avoid eye contact.
'How scary… he might even be the King inhabiting the kid's body…'
Sorcery was not a new or hidden concept to the inhabitants of Archon, so the soldier could not help but have such thoughts.
"Yes, My Lord," He replied, not failing to add the required honorifics.
Stiles ended the conversation, gesturing with his hands for the soldier to leave.
'It's finally time… I can at least let go of some stress…'
Stiles, who had always lived under the fear of getting killed by people who he had not offended in any way, didn't know of the word called 'mercy'. He would rather have fun at the expense of his enemies' sorrow than dwell on empathetic reasoning.
Slowly, the smoke loomed over the northern outskirts of Kynburgh, spreading as time passed.
'Though I don't have those glasses, I can still see a vague form of the people around… it seems that the Triskelion symbol did not only change my eye color…'
Stiles scanned the surroundings, smiling at his new findings.
He knew he was at the edge of Kynburgh's wall, so he positioned himself to jump down, using the already prepared rope to reduce his momentum.
Though Stiles had a supernatural physique, one that could easily handle a Level 8 Ranker, he didn't feel the need to act recklessly.
'How smooth sailing…'
Feeling his legs contact with the sandy, beach soil, Stiles adjusted his center of force, walking gently across the land toward the coast.
The ship was not far into the Mist Sea, and since it was at a halt, Stiles could see its vague form and also had an idea of how to hop on this magnificent structure.
As he approached the ship in the distance, Stiles increased his pace, using the momentum to leap, landing on the ship.
His landing shook the ship, causing a male to brandish his weapon at the source of the sound in terror, his hand trembling.
Moments later, the gun released a string of bullets in Stiles' direction.
"Heh."
"Ahhhh!"
Meanwhile, Alastros steadily and vigilantly navigated the ship, searching for the Xadora prince. At the moment, he was the only one with the ability to possibly get them out of this mess.
'Those fools…' He sneered, hearing the sound of the gun that followed the trembling of the ship.
'It can possibly be an intruder. Still, shooting blindly is insane—you can end up exposing your position or hurting your allies…
They should have created this ship earlier, that way, I would have gotten well accustomed to it…'
Alastros cursed his bad luck.
His profession was a shipmaster, and his ability gave him a great sense of direction, preventing him from ever getting lost in the sea.
'My ability would be enough, anyway—tsk…'
Heightening his vigilance, Alastros moved in the direction he assumed the Xadora prince to be located.
On the deck of the ship, Marcus silently observed the situation, not saying a word.
From his perspective, this was surely an ambush, and even though the attacker had prepared himself to see clearly through the fog, there were still slim chances of winning the fight.
Around him, soldiers were busy with their hypothesis, only quieting down at the trembling of the ship, and then the sudden gunshot which led to an agonizing scream.
It was like a horror scene from picture stories about haunted houses, causing even a Level 7 Ranker, like Marcus, scalp to go numb in trepidation.
'It should be from the stern. After all, it sounded so distant yet near…' Marcus hypothesized, immediately taking a battle stance.
Even though his sense of sight was obstructed, he could tell the horror on the nearby soldiers' faces.
'One of the ship systems needed for locomotion must have been damaged for it not to move… I need to fix it to get the ship moving…'
Marcus decided to head for the control room of the ship. After all, he could get the main situation of the ship from the control room.
He didn't rush in search of the control room. Instead, slowly closed his eyes as he clasped his palms.
His expression turned serene as he activated his ability. He separated his palm before moving his arms in an anticlockwise direction—It was like a ritual.
Slowly, mysterious sounds reached his ears. It was like the whispers of tiny creatures, yet, he had a slight headache as he concentrated to discern its contents.
"Builder of the world's
Components of its being
I, Marcus, your dear friend, wish to seek your help again."
Marcus uttered slowly under his breath, not failing to perform the corresponding hand signs.
[What do you seek, My Friend.]
An autonomous voice resounded in his ear, increasing the throbbing pain he had felt as he started the ritual.
"I seek the clearing of this fog," Marcus stated, smiling despite the pain the conversation brought to him.
[I can't fulfill that, My Friend.] The autonomous voice replied, before adding. [Seek another path.]
'I guessed right; my power level is not enough to clear this foggy substance…'
"I seek your support throughout the situation," Marcus answered.
[As you wish, My Friend. My power is yours.]
'Thanks, Friend…'