The chill felt like some damp, shadowy cave. The swaying surroundings told Winteray she was aboard a ship. Opening her eyes, the dim light made it impossible to tell which part of the vessel she was in. A trace of rot and filth hung in the air—smelling distinctly of excrement.

“Mmph… Huh!?”

She struggled to rise but found herself strapped down. Her limbs were fixed to a torture rack designed for stretching.

“You’re awake… my lady…”

Countless pinpricks of light glowed in the darkness—pairs of eyes. A nameless dread seized Winteray. Something terrifying lurked in the shadows ahead, something she couldn’t identify.

“Before we begin, allow me the customary introduction…”

The figure emerging from the dark stunned her. She realized her mouth was gagged with a wooden bit, reducing her protests to muffled, useless grunts.

A humanoid shape slowly stepped forward—though it resembled an upright rat more than a man. Glossy black fur covered its plump body, crimson eyes gleamed, and a long tail swayed behind it. Dressed like a priest or monk in heavy black robes, its stout frame looked absurdly comical.

“This is the third hold of the *Resurrection Goddess*… my domain, and also our prison. I am Monbide… Captain of the Enforcement Squad for the Reaper’s Scythe Pirate Crew. Though… ‘Enforcement Squad’ is merely a title. Our glorious Pipe Master rules with such wisdom and order that no one errs all year… So I grow lonely. Bored. Can you understand the ache of longing to serve, yet never being needed?”

The creature seemed to pour out its sorrows, its voice thick with lament. Winteray found it absurd, but bound and silenced, she could only watch.

“Ah, forgive me… burdening you with my troubles. When Lord Przemyśl delivered you all to me yesterday… I was overjoyed. I’ve longed to prove my worth, to serve Pipe Master well. I’m truly grateful you’ve given me this chance…”

Winteray’s eyes adjusted to the gloom. She now saw shelves lining the walls—each holding mangled… corpses.

Bafa. Biai. Jawol… She recognized them by fragments of clothing or scars. All were骨干 members of the Merfolk Pirate Crew, once eager to curry her favor. Now dead. Horribly dead. Their bodies bore signs of inhuman torture.

“Ah, but enough chatter, my lady. For defying Pipe Master’s wise decree, you must accept punishment. As ruler of these seas, his will cannot be disobeyed—not even by gods… But fear not. I shall help you atone. I’ll choose fitting penances. It’s a sacred, merciful duty…”

Winteray understood. But she couldn’t move.

“The work since yesterday has been tiring… yet deeply fulfilling. This purpose… this labor… fills me with joy. So I’ve carefully selected unique paths to redemption for each of you… Only you remain. Let’s start simply. Behold… my lady… isn’t this a beautiful artifact?”

The rat-creature shuffled to a table and lifted a dagger—an ox-ear blade.

“A relic. I’m a collector. This one’s name is ‘Parting Sorrow’.”

Monbide crept closer to Winteray.

“See how sharp it is… But I won’t kill you with it. I promise. Now… what was that incantation… *Bind!*”

Winteray’s muscles locked. Even lifting a finger became impossible.

“We begin your first penance. Prisoner… Winteray. Identity confirmed. First offense: disrespect toward the Captain. Punishment: flaying.”

—

“Hmm. You call yourself Scarface?”

Pipe Master sat on his throne, gazing down at the kneeling pirate who dared not breathe. His tone held no emotion—flat, calm.

“Yes! I abandoned my birth name. Scarface is my title now.”

“…Then. How well do you know these waters?”

Scarface hesitated.

“I know much, my lord… but I’m unsure what you wish to hear.”

“Fool! Are you criticizing your master’s question?”

Przemyśl snapped, hand twitching toward his weapon.

“Przemyśl. Silence.”

“My apologies, Captain! I spoke out of haste…”

“No matter. I forgive you this once. Look up. Answer my questions truthfully… or you’ll taste every torment your companions endured. I never bluff. Understood?”

Scarface recalled the horrors in the lower hold. Urine threatened to spill, but he clenched hard—wondering if wetting himself would earn him a one-way trip to that very cell.

“Yes! I’ll tell all!”

A faint red glow flickered in Pipe Captain’s dark eye sockets.

“How… do people measure strength here? What makes a ‘strong’ person?”

“Strength… varies by region. But most gauge it by combat units. A warrior’s worth is measured by how many standard soldiers he can defeat alone.”

“Standard soldiers?”

“Conscripts trained for three years. One such soldier equals one baseline unit.”

“…And Karl? His strength?”

“The Captain—” (He flinched at the hostile stares) “—that man… roughly 2,500 units.”

“2,500…”

“Of course, enchanted weapons or armor could increase that…”

“Reasonable. Now… magic. Does it exist here?”

“Yes! Magic has existed for ages. Nations employ mages as strategic assets. The Holy Varnishel Empire boasts the strongest magic.”

“Continue. I’m listening.”

“Their Royal Arcanist, Elgavin, runs an academy recruiting magically gifted youths. Their Artificer’s Guild also crafts war machines fused with magic—like arcane cannonballs. I once fought as a mercenary against their navy. Those magic cannons… ordinary shells pierce hulls, but theirs explode on impact. Like…”

“Like the cannons on my ship?”

“Yes…”

*So the Empire is a true threat. If they wield such weapons, they’ll be hard to crush… I thought this was just a frontier world, but magic has birthed another kind of technology. Clever. Only Silver Lock among my crew is a mage—and her blood magic differs from theirs. I’ll need to capture one…*

“…Scarface. You have talent. Will you serve me?”

“…! Yes!”

“Hmph. So eager?”

“Yes! Your power leaves no choice. And… who wouldn’t wish to follow strength and make their mark?”

“You’re honest. And clever. You’ll lead the remaining Merfolk Pirates. From today, they join my Reaper’s Scythe as an auxiliary unit—the ‘Merfolk Division.’ You’re its leader. Take this.”

Pipe tossed him a lizard-like puppet.

“Speak into its mouth to contact us. This is Przemyśl, my First Mate. Report to her. Her orders are mine. Understood?”

“Yes! Understood!”

—

“…Leaving so soon, my lady? Ah… I cannot allow it. Your kindness granted me this chance to shine—be kinder still and endure a little longer… Let me help you! *Vitality!*”

Mystic energy surged. Winteray’s fading consciousness snapped back. Just as she’d felt release near, agony flooded her body anew. She wanted to scream—but her tongue was gone. Her throat, seared from swallowing burning coal, produced only silence.

“Give me more! More chances! Next… my favorite method. Invented by an ancient missionary to purge heretics. Do you believe in gods? In the divine? …Clearly not a faithful soul. I judge you an apostate. You have no objection, do you?”

The rat slammed a bucket onto Winteray’s bare stomach, then stuffed five fat rodents inside. She felt them scramble over her flesh, seeking escape. Madness clawed at her mind—but her body wouldn’t obey.

“All creatures cling to life… My kin excel at survival. Let me demonstrate…”

With iron tongs, he placed four glowing coals atop the inverted bucket. *Hiss… sizzle…* The metal glowed red-hot.

“Feel it? Their fierce will to live?”

Winteray understood her fate. The rats, panicked by the heat, gnawed desperately at her belly—burrowing inward. A soul-rending pain tore through her.

“…So moving. Such clever children in crisis… And you, my lady… you’ve proven your worth to me.”

The giant rat began to pray, its posture solemn and holy.

—

“Captain… Monbide reports the prisoners have been dealt with. Their bodies are displayed as warning. They’ve learned ‘reverence’ and ‘obedience’.”

“Hmm… Good. Monbide is capable.”

"So for any similar matters in the future, just leave it to handle them... and while you're at it, give it some praise on my behalf."

Next, should I go take a look at the Vanelshire Empire? That scar-faced man is smart and pragmatic; using terror to keep them in line seems highly effective.

"So, my lord, shall we proceed to the next step?"

"Hmm... yes, just follow the steps... (What next step? What exactly is the next step supposed to be!?)"

"Understood! Then, please entrust the task of unifying all pirates, big and small, in this sea region to me! I'll handle it thoroughly. (I won't be any worse than Mengpide. That rat lurking in the lower decks actually got my lord's praise—I want that too.)"

Conquering pirates in the nearby seas... When was this plan set? But it seems... I only mentioned it offhand last time. Still, my subordinates have clearly prepared for ages. If I don't go through with it, they'll be disappointed. I'll let them handle it for now. Whatever...