Chapter 3: The Death of the Shirairyu & The cube
The sea was an endless abyss of darkness, as if the world had turned upside down and left nothing but an eternal void below. No reflection of the sky, no shimmer of the moon—just an infinite, ink-like stretch swallowing anything that touched its surface. The Shirairyu's ship cut through the eerie waters, its sleek black sails blending into the abyss. The only signs of life were the dim red lights pulsating along the hull, like a heartbeat in the void.
Shirai leaned against the ship's polished wooden railing, his black-gloved hand tapping idly against his tech gun, a modified weapon with an intricate silver engravings and glowing blue lines running through its barrel. His silver hair cascaded past his shoulders, barely touched by the cold wind. His crew, the infamous Shirairyu pirates, each worth a bounty of over a billion, stood ready—fearless, battle-hardened, their silhouettes outlined against the ghostly glow of their ship's lanterns.
Then came the sound—a slow, eerie creaking, like the groan of an ancient beast stirring from its slumber. Across the black sea, a monstrous ship emerged from the mist.
The Godslayers of England had arrived.
Their vessel was an abomination of craftsmanship—a towering warship with a white dragon's skull fused into its bow, jagged teeth bared as if ready to devour the sea itself. Its sails were made of woven silver threads, reflecting the faintest light like celestial fabric. Along the deck, their elite warriors stood in formation, their armor gleaming under the ominous glow of their ship's white lanterns.
Shirai sighed, unimpressed. "Took you long enough," he muttered, adjusting his coat.
The Shirairyu captain, a burly man with a lion-like mane of red hair and a jagged scar across his cheek, barked an order. "Send in the sirens!"
Without hesitation, a dozen divers—the sirens of the Shirairyu—dropped into the abyssal waters. These weren't ordinary men. Their suits were streamlined, reinforced with hydroblades and pressurized boosters for deep-sea warfare. Within seconds, they vanished beneath the black waves, their bodies mere shadows in the depths.
But then—
A blur of silver and red shot into the sea, faster than any human should have moved. The moment it entered, the abyss erupted in violent turbulence.
A slayer had followed them in.
From the deck, Shirai barely raised an eyebrow. "Well, that's new."
Beneath the surface, the Godslayer moved like a phantom. His trident, glowing with a dull crimson hue, danced through the water like a spear guided by the gods themselves. His boots—jet-enhanced with thruster-like propulsion—left trails of bubbles as he cut through the ocean with impossible speed. The sirens barely had time to react before he was upon them.
One. Two. Three. Their bodies were pierced, torn apart, dragged into the abyss before they could even scream. The black sea swallowed their blood as if it had been starved for centuries. The few that remained tried to flee, but the slayer twisted mid-water, his trident splitting into three serrated blades. With a single, powerful thrust, he impaled them all at once.
Above the surface, the Godslayers boarded the Shirairyu's ship.
Blades clashed. Cannons roared. The deck turned into a war zone.
The Shirairyu fought like devils, their enhanced swords humming with energy, their rifles firing rapid bursts of light. The Godslayers, however, were relentless—each one a warrior trained to fight at the peak of human ability, moving in perfect synchronization.
Shirai exhaled, tilting his gun lazily. "Guess I should do something."
But before he could move, the sky tore open.
A circle of golden arrays pulsed above them, inscribed with ancient symbols, burning with unnatural light. The air trembled. The wind howled. Shirai's smirk widened.
"About time, you damn fools."
Then—
A beam of light engulfed the battlefield.
The sea turned white. The ships vanished. And across the world, a single message spread like wildfire.
"The Shirairyu is dead."
The towering sandstone walls of Chixoxi, one of the autonomous states in the Down World, loomed above them. The streets were bathed in golden light, flickering with the warmth of fire-lit lanterns. The air smelled of spices, roasted meat, and something metallic—like old iron gates that had never stopped rusting.
Rin adjusted his torn cloak, trying to blend in. Beside him, Engine walked with a slow, casual gait, his red thorned umbrella resting against his shoulder. His white hair shimmered under the light, and his blackened fingers twitched slightly, as if eager for mischief.
They had been invited to a wedding—one arranged by The Wall, a faction that controlled Chixoxi's underworld.
Inside the palace, laughter echoed across the grand hall. The nobles wore elaborate silk robes, their faces hidden behind delicate gold-veined masks. Musicians plucked at zithers, creating a mesmerizing melody. At the center of it all stood Philith, nephew of the Chixoxi ruler—a sharp-jawed man with raven-black hair and piercing golden eyes.
He was in a heated argument with Valdo, who, despite the setting, stood lazily with a half-smirk, swirling a glass of dark liquor.
"You think just because you're from Chixoxi, you can dictate the rules here?" Valdo's voice was light, almost amused.
Philith sneered. "You're an outsider, Valdo. A mere drifter. You hold no power here."
Rin, never one for subtlety, stepped forward. "Man, do you ever shut up?"
The entire hall went silent.
Philith turned, golden eyes narrowing. "What did you say?"
Rin shrugged. "You're yapping like a beaten dog, yet all I hear is nonsense. If you have a problem with Valdo, then fight him. Or are you only good at whining?"
Gasps filled the room. Philith's hands curled into fists.
Valdo chuckled. Then, to everyone's surprise, he clapped a hand on Rin's shoulder, grinning. "I like this kid."
Philith looked ready to explode, but before anything could happen, a messenger entered the hall, holding a black envelope.
Valdo took it, flicked it open, and then—without warning—pressed it into Rin's hands.
"Welcome to The Cube." Valdo's smirk widened.
Rin frowned. "The Cube?"
Valdo stepped closer, his voice a whisper. "A gathering of monsters. And you, my friend, have just earned yourself a seat at the table."
The wedding contract was signed, but Rin had just stepped into something far bigger what was rins goal?