The next morning, the light of dawn filtered into the command hall of Castle Rock, revealing exhausted faces and uniforms still stained with smoke. The air was thick with the scent of gunpowder. Standing behind the great map, Captain Sharlok studied his officers with a clenched jaw; then he broke the silence with an icy voice.
“Commander Surez, I want a full report. Damage, wounded, dead… leave nothing out.”
The commander, tired but composed, took a breath and began listing the losses with the precision of someone counting the irreversible.
“The attack began around midnight. The sentries on the towers were neutralized from inside the castle, which is why the alarm was delayed. The pirates kept their distance: they bombarded the walls with eolite cannons without attempting a landing. For now, we believe it was a diversion to cover an internal operation within the fortress. However, no thefts have been reported yet, though inspections of warehouses and depots are ongoing.”
He paused briefly, fingers tapping against the register as he recited the numbers.
“Dead: four confirmed so far. Seriously wounded: about a dozen. A warship is patrolling the coast in search of the pirate vessel. Inside the fortress we have not yet identified any confirmed suspects.”
Sharlok clenched his fists, rage simmering beneath the surface. Commander Surez hesitated for a moment, as if he were about to deliver worse news.
“There’s something else…” he finally said.
Sharlok’s gaze turned cold. “What else? Justifying all this is already impossible.”
“The two recruits under punishment have disappeared. We found the ropes cut: someone freed them and covered their escape during the chaos. A fishing boat is also missing; they likely used it to flee. We have no data on the direction they took. They are still wearing their eolite bracelets, so — in theory — they should be powerless.”
For a moment, the room froze. Then Sharlok moved, every word like a blade.
“I want those two found, alive or dead. They are deserters and will face a court-martial. If I’m lucky, I’ll kill them with my own hands. I will not allow this fortress to become the Empire’s laughingstock.”
“Yes, sir,” the commander replied.
A heavy silence fell over the hall. Outside, the hammering of repair work reminded everyone that the night had left a deep wound — not only in the walls of Castle Rock, but in the Empire’s very honor.
The pirate ship swayed gently on the open waters of the Central Sea, its wood creaking while the smell of salt and tar filled the air. The crew waited for calm seas before vanishing into the night, their faces marked by a life of crime and survival.
The Captain, massive and rough-looking, stepped forward on deck with a hoarse voice.
“Contact that bastard Doc!” he snarled. “We did our part — now we want our half. If he tries to run without paying, I’ll chase him to the ends of the world!”
From the shadows, a man emerged with calm steps. A heavy bag hung from his shoulder, his face cold and unreadable.
As he approached, the Captain looked him over with a mix of resentment and relief. “Doc! Finally. Thought I’d lost you.”
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“I didn’t run,” the man replied, opening the bag and placing the money on the rough table. “Here’s your share.”
The first officer counted the bills one by one; the sound blended with the wind and the tense breathing around them.
The man called Doc remained silent, watching the faces around him — about thirty pirates with sabers at their sides, suspicious and ready for anything.
When the counting ended, the Captain nodded with a crooked grin. “Looks like it’s all there. Let’s say goodbye and pretend we never met.”
Doc turned toward the ship’s side, where his vessel waited. He stopped with one hand on the rail and spoke without raising his voice, yet every word fell heavily across the deck.
“I paid for the job you did, but I never said we would simply part ways. Sooner or later the Empire will find you — and if they don’t, someone worse will. And under torture, sooner or later, you’ll talk. I cannot allow you to walk away carrying the truth.”
The deck fell silent. The pirates exchanged alarmed glances; then, as one, they drew their sabers. Steel flashed under the moonlight.
The Captain barked, “Filthy bastard! Can’t you see you’re surrounded? Here’s what I’ve decided — I’ll kill you and feed your corpse to the sharks!”
The blades surged toward the man like a wave of iron. He moved with practiced speed, dodging the first strike, blocking another with his arm — but they were too many, and several blows found their mark. The clash of weapons and the pirates’ shouts filled the air as the fight unfolded, brutal and swift.
Only the following morning did the Empire finally locate the pirate ship. It lay stranded in a secluded bay, like a corpse abandoned by the sea. Torn sails, a tilted hull half submerged. No voices, no battle — only the ghostly creaking of wood and the bitter smell of blood and salt poisoning the air.
The boarding was disturbingly easy. No resistance. When the soldiers stepped aboard, silence was broken only by their breathing. Bodies everywhere. Weapons scattered, still wet with blood. Dark red pools seeping through the planks like open veins. It looked as if a sudden, ferocious massacre — senseless and violent — had erupted out of nowhere.
A messenger was sent back to Castle Rock, and a few hours later Captain Sharlok arrived with a military vessel and a squad of chosen men.
The moment he stepped onto the wreck, his cold eyes swept across the piled corpses — mouths frozen in silent screams no one had heard.
“Captain,” the commander reported grimly. “The ship was found this morning. The entire crew is dead… including their captain.”
Sharlok knelt beside one of the bodies, examining the wounds with clinical calm. His expression remained impassive — but the veins at his temples pulsed with something that was not surprise. It was anger.
“Has the investigation team already analyzed the scene?” he asked without looking up.
“Yes, sir. It’s definitely the work of a Level Up.”
The commander hesitated. “But… judging from the injuries, it almost looks like they slaughtered each other. The problem is there’s no sign of an external attacker. Zero traces. As if it happened… from within.”
Sharlok tightened his jaw. His voice cut through the air like a verdict.
“Whoever did this is the same one who neutralized our tower sentries and covered the escape of those two idiots. They knew the Empire would find this ship. They erased the pirates to eliminate every trace. And above all… they possess a power that leaves no evidence.”
The commander swallowed, then added quietly, “We could inform headquarters.”
The silence grew heavier. Even the air seemed to freeze. Sharlok did not react at first — but his gaze darkened like an omen.
“We inform absolutely no one.”
His voice was final. “Send commanders directly from the families of the fugitives. I want every detail. Who saw them last. Who covered for them. Who dared speak with them. No lead escapes us.”
Commander Surez hesitated slightly. “There’s a problem, Captain. Sky’s aunt… is Mia Light. Interrogating her might not be wise.”
Sharlok’s fingers curled into a fist, his knuckles turning white. His gaze burned with restrained fury.
“Damn it. I don’t care — I want information.”
A cold pause. “If we have to ask her questions… we will.”
“I’ll carry it out immediately, sir.”
The commander stepped back, bowing.
As the men prepared to leave the wreck, Sharlok remained still, staring at the horizon. The sea was calm. Too calm. But that quiet was not peace — it was a constructed silence. A deliberate lie.
Someone was moving in the shadows. Someone clever enough — and monstrously powerful enough — to orchestrate the entire scene.
And Sharlok knew it. Sky and Shark… were only the beginning. The first stone that had started the avalanche.
—
Next Episode — The Weight of Blood

