The morning sun rose swiftly, its golden rays illuminating the bustling docks where marine officers assembled aboard one of the larger ships. Among the gathered crowd were skilled gunslingers and warriors wielding an array of weaponry, each preparing for the dangerous mission ahead.
Nathaniel and Laziel stuck close to Jericho, their trusted mentor, while townsfolk gathered along the pier to send them off with waves and shouts of encouragement.
"Jericho! Nathaniel! Laziel! Good luck out there! Come back safe!" a woman called out, her voice cutting through the morning chatter as she waved her hand high above her head. It was Jericho's wife, who had been his steadfast partner for many years.
Jericho turned toward her, laughing heartily as the breeze tousled his thick black hair and mustache. He waved back with a warm smile. "Don't worry, my dear! I'll return with good earnings—and I'll make sure these boys learn what it truly means to be professional gunslingers!"
As Jericho finished his goodbyes, a group of marine marksmen standing nearby exchanged glances. One of them, a tall, stern man, stood with his arms crossed, silently observing the scene.
"So, Jericho's coming along for this mission," one of the men muttered, narrowing his eyes. "What's he thinking, bringing kids on a hunt this dangerous?"
A woman from the group, leaning casually against the iron railing of the ship, sighed in exasperation. "He's always trying to play the father figure. It's admirable, sure, but taking kids to hunt beasts? That's reckless. Those boys aren't ready for a task like this," she said, shaking her head as she turned to gaze out over the water.
The stern man's expression didn't waver as he replied, "If those two manage to come out of this alive, they'll have earned my respect. But until then, they're just kids biting off more than they can chew."
The woman chuckled lightly. "We'll see. Maybe Jericho's faith in them isn't misplaced after all."
As the ship buzzed with quiet conversations among its passengers, Nathaniel shifted uncomfortably and leaned toward Laziel, lightly bumping his shoulder. His voice was low, almost trembling.
"L-Laziel… At first, I was so sure this was the right thing to do. But now, hearing everyone talking in the background…" Nathaniel glanced nervously at the experienced hunters surrounding them, their weapons gleaming in the morning light. "I feel like maybe we shouldn't have come." He swallowed hard, the tension building as his unease grew.
Laziel turned to his friend, his expression a mix of surprise and determination. "What are you talking about, Nate? We both needed this! Think about it—this is our chance to prove ourselves! Imagine shooting down real beasts with our guns! Not to mention, Uncle Jericho's with us. We just gotta stick close, follow his lead, and we'll come back loaded with food and souvenirs!"
Despite Laziel's encouraging words and his relaxed, confident demeanor, Nathaniel's doubts lingered. His eyes darted nervously around the deck, unable to shake the shadow of uncertainty that loomed over him.
Sensing the boy's anxiety, Jericho stepped in, placing a firm yet gentle hand on Nathaniel's shoulder. His smile was warm, kind, and full of reassurance—the kind that could ease even the heaviest of worries. His presence alone seemed to carry the promise of safety.
"Don't worry, Nathaniel," Jericho said softly, his tone steady and comforting. "I'm here. You don't have to worry about a thing." He paused, giving the boy a reassuring nod, then raised a clenched fist with a confident grin. "After all, you've got the best gunman around to guide you!"
Jericho's words struck a chord, the warmth and conviction in his voice melting away the fear Nathaniel had been holding onto. For the first time since boarding the ship, a flicker of confidence returned to Nathaniel's eyes.
"Yeah! You're right!" Nathaniel said, his voice firming up as he straightened his posture. "We'll be safe! With you leading us, we've got nothing to worry about!"
Jericho laughed and gave the boy's shoulder a friendly squeeze. "That's the spirit, kid. Now let's show these hunters what we're made of!"
With his mentor's reassurance and Laziel's unwavering enthusiasm, Nathaniel's nervousness began to fade. Though the anxiety hadn't disappeared completely, he felt a growing determination to face whatever lay ahead.
The man who had been silently observing the group continued to block out the chatter around him, his expression distant. Without a word, he turned away from the scene, resting one arm on the ship's fence and staring out at the endless expanse of water.
"If only those kids knew about your problems, Jericho," he muttered under his breath, his tone cold and laced with disappointment. "Maybe they'd be smart enough to stay at home… and keep you there too. Pretending to be one of the best hunters around—like you still have it in you—but you haven't stepped into the field in years. You've outgrown your prime."
His grip tightened slightly on the railing as his gaze grew darker. "You don't understand how dangerous the beasts have become... or how much deadlier the ocean is now. You're leading them into something you're not prepared for." His voice trailed off, heavy with disdain, before he sighed deeply, letting the words hang in the air. "If you come back alive..."
The sentence went unfinished, his thoughts remaining locked behind the storm in his mind. With a final glance at Jericho and the boys, the man turned and strode toward the ship's cabin, his expression hardened, as though already mourning an inevitable loss.
From the deck, his team exchanged puzzled looks, their confusion evident. One of them leaned closer to the others, whispering, "What's with him? He seemed fine a moment ago."
"I don't know," another murmured back. "Maybe he's just annoyed Jericho's here. But... what was he trying to say just now?"
The group fell silent, watching the man disappear into the cabin, each left wondering what grim truths he seemed to carry—and whether they should be worried too.
Nathaniel's sharp eyes caught the man's retreating figure, and a strange unease settled in his chest. There was something about the way the man moved and the expression he wore—hidden, yet heavy with meaning—that compelled him to follow.
"I... I need to use the restroom," Nathaniel stammered hurriedly, hoping his excuse sounded natural. Without waiting for a response, he darted off, leaving Jericho and Laziel standing on the deck.
Jericho raised an eyebrow, his lips curling into a chuckle. "Just be careful, kid! And don't go bothering the helmsman!" he called after Nathaniel, his tone lighthearted.
Laziel tilted his head, slightly perplexed. "What's with him? He looked kinda… distracted," he muttered, but quickly shrugged it off.
Jericho, now leaning against the ship's railing with his arms crossed, gazed into the endless expanse of shimmering ocean. The sunlight danced on the waves, its brilliance masking the dark uncertainties of the waters ahead. "Let him be. It's good for the boy to have some time to think. After all…" he paused, a glint of pride in his eye. "Every marksman needs a sharp mind, not just a sharp aim."
Meanwhile, Nathaniel moved swiftly but silently, his soft steps barely audible against the creaking wooden floor of the ship. He kept his eyes locked on the man ahead, careful to maintain a distance so as not to draw attention. His heart thumped nervously in his chest as he wondered who this man was and why he felt so... off. Something told him there was more to this stranger than met the eye.
To be continued...