The next day at home, Elyon slept until noon, feeling a semblance of safety for the first time since his arrival on this planet. After a long, restful sleep and a simple morning routine, he noticed his mother must have stepped out to tend to the small grocery shop adjacent to their house.
In the kitchen, he grabbed a loaf of bread, paired it with the leftover stewed beef from the cupboard, and had a modest lunch.
"Once you're done, take the shotgun hanging on the wall and come hunting with me," Thane suggested, dressed in earth-toned tweed hunting garb and dark blue trousers, a leather sheath belted at his waist cradling a short dagger, holding a pouch in one hand, and leading an unattractive hound with the other.
In the Kingdom of Bruge, firearms were regulated items, only available for purchase by officers or police with the required permits. Revolvers, the easily concealable small arms, along with bolt-action rifles and shotguns, required a hunting license to own. As for hand-cranked Gatling guns, they were legal only within the military.
Thane, unable to resist his fascination with firearms after retirement, had splurged on a hunting license for ten pounds.
Elyon took down the small-caliber hunting shotgun from the wall. It was well-maintained; the black barrel and red walnut stock shone under the light. He followed Thane about a thousand yards to the lake, where a marshy area was known to attract wild ducks.
"Give me the gun, and you handle the leash. Don't underestimate this basset hound; he's stronger than he looks. When I tell you to release him, let go."
Thane handed the leash to Elyon and began loading the shotgun, pulling out shiny golden bullets from his pocket and pressing them into the magazine. Elyon struggled to hold onto the basset hound's leash, crouching and following Thane into the bushes.
"Let go, and off you go, fatty." At Thane's signal, the hound dashed into the marshland like a yellow bolt of lightning, stirring the ducks into flight with cacophonic quacks.
Thane raised his shotgun rapidly, his eyes seemingly emitting a blue glow, and with a succession of "bang, bang, bang," he completed his shots in the blink of an eye.
"All done. Those five ducks should suffice for your meals in the coming days. Come again when you're free."
"That was quick. Did you really hit them all?" Elyon was perplexed by Thane's confidence.
Striking five ducks in irregular motion in a short time wasn't something an ordinary person could do; even clay pigeon shooting on Earth required a shotgun at close range to hit slow-moving, predictable targets.
"Wait here, fatty will bring back the prey," Thane said as he took out a pouch and whistled.
With a splash, a yellow figure leaped from the marsh and raced to the bushes, holding a half-meter long brown-feathered, bloodied wild duck in its mouth, proudly dropping it before Thane. The dog panted heavily, his tail wagging incessantly.
"Good boy, fatty, go again." Thane patted the basset hound's head, pointing back to the reed-filled swamps.
Soon enough, the hound returned with another dead duck. Thane used his dagger to pry out the lead bullets from the bodies before stuffing the ducks into his pouch.
After five trips, it was clear Thane had truly hit all five ducks, an ordinary-looking drunkard farmer displaying remarkable skill.
After dealing with the ducks, Thane lit up a rolled cigarette, pulled a steel flask from his pocket, took a hefty swig of strong liquor, and said:
"What makes you think a farmer's son could end up retiring as a captain? Your grandfather was a farmer for generations. I wasn't even sent to the army to climb the ranks; they hoped I'd make some money to buy land."
For the first time, Elyon understood the harsh early life of his father.
"In the colonial days up north, we faced not only the natives but also conflicts with other nations like Lucis and Dunland, and even ruthless pirates who would kill on sight. Out of my conscript batch, maybe three in ten made it back to Bruge."
Elyon started to grasp what his father was implying. "Are you saying you're a transcendent, then? How else could a farmer's son become an officer?"
"Heh, I was just lucky. Our squad was ordered to investigate a settlement up north. Just a week before we left, a distress signal came. The generals thought it was likely just native harassment. They sent us—ten men and a machine gun—to provide backup, drive the natives away, and then return. Do you know what happened? It was a nightmare."
Thane's tone was pained; he closed his eyes and took another swig.
"What happened?"
"We encountered the most brutal of the pirate kings, one of the four emperors of the sea, the tyrant Thomas Tudor and his pirates. They had already taken over, and the distress signal was just Thomas's sick joke, luring small troops in for slaughter."
"That's not just sick, that's downright vile."
"By the time we got there, we weren't welcomed by friendly settlers but by ferocious pirates. The poor settlers were hung rotten on wooden walls. As we stood dumbfounded, cannon fire erupted. Our team leader, who had been laughing and talking just moments before, was hit by a 32-pound cannonball. The huge lead shot disintegrated his upper body. The soldier closest to him was covered in blood and broke down on the spot," Thane took a deep drag.
"And then? How did you get out alive?" Elyon urged, eager to know the critical part.
"That's where the tyrant Thomas Tudor's notoriety comes in. The eight of us, surrounded, immediately offered to surrender, but Thomas refused. He opened the settlement gates and gave us three minutes to run as far as we could before his men would hunt us down—a death game."
"That does sound like a real-life battle royale."
"If we managed to escape, we won; if caught, we'd be shot. Pirates formed groups of three to chase us, collecting soldiers' left ears as proof for their rewards—the team with the most ears would receive the highest bounty."
"Such a twisted game. How many of you played?"
"Eight of us were all scared out of our wits, ran frantically when the gates opened. After three minutes, they released the hounds. The seven others were caught and brutally killed. Somehow, I was lucky enough to fall into the river. The hounds lost my scent. I hid in the shallows amid water plants until dark, daring to emerge only when I thought they had gone back."
"And that's it? You haven't told us how you got your powers yet."
"Don't rush. Just as I crawled from the bushes, three pirates were waiting on the shore, hoping I'd show up. They released the hounds, and when they pounced, biting and tearing at me, I fought back desperately. As the pirates' footsteps neared, I thought my end was certain. But at the brink of death, my awakening came. My physical abilities exceeded those of an ordinary person, strength and courage returned to me, and it seemed a voice in my head told me they were just lowly, base humans."
"Close to death is a condition for becoming transcendent?" Elyon inquired.
"One of many, along with enough luck," Thane replied.
"What's your ability?"
"Besides enhanced physicality, when I use my transcendent powers, I have extremely strong dynamic vision. The world seems to slow down before me, as if it's a series of flowing canvases."
"And you beat three pirates with just your enhanced strength and dynamic vision?"
"Confidence returned as well. I fought them in the woods, hand-to-hand, so their firearms couldn't be fully utilized."
"Ah, so intelligence returned as well," Elyon remarked admiringly.
"I dragged my injured body back to the barracks and passed out at the gate. When I awoke, I was standing before a colonel."
"From the army?"
"No, the navy. I was transferred to the navy's Scorpio Combat Squad, one of twelve transcendent combat units, and was given—believe it or not—a captain's rank."
"A captain's rank? As in...?"
"Yes, a captain's rank and a soldier's duties. Hard to comprehend, isn't it?"
Elyon realized Thane meant the squad was composed entirely of transcendent beings.