The White Oak Kingdom... bordered the Fire Eagle Duchy, separated by the Bianacrod Mountains... situated at the westernmost edge of this sea-locked land. With mountains shielding two sides and ocean embracing the other two, over half its territory lay perpetually shrouded in mist... a nation once founded by a heroic king and the noble apostles of the gods...

Yet times had changed. The priesthood, no longer pure, now served desire. The royal house, stripped of strength, bowed to cowardice... Priests seized most of the land for profit, leasing it to peasants while hoarding exorbitant gains outside the crown’s reach. Allied with knightly orders as enforcers, they crushed commoners and bullied nobles alike... Royal authority crumbled... True power now rested with His Holiness Pope Lamni IV...

Near the Bianacrod Mountains, a village received a grim visitation: a squad of knights escorting a robed priest astride a horse, his garments richly embroidered.

"Your Grace... a village lies ahead. We may rest here tonight..."

The knight gestured toward the wretched hamlet. Ragged peasants shrank back, necks hunched, eyes wide at these lofty figures.

"Hmm... eh? That child..."

The priest’s gaze snagged on a girl passing ahead of the procession, a bundle of firewood strapped to her small back. Though only five or six, her delicate features stood out starkly against the villagers’ grime.

"What’s your name?"

He dismounted, approaching her.

"......"

Terrified by his finery, the child trembled into silence.

"Fear not. I am the gods’ voice on earth. Their blessing rests upon you, child... What is your name?"

Kneeling, he offered a gentle smile.

"Sally... I’m Sally..."

Her fear ebbed slightly, though her voice remained thin.

"Sally... Who lives with you?"

"...Only my little sister."

"So you care for her alone?"

"Yes..."

"Listen well. Come with me... I’ll grant you a holy name. Your sister shall live in the convent... eating white bread and meat every day... if you obey me and serve faithfully. She’ll gain noble standing... I swear this by the gods’ grace... See? I am an archbishop."

"...Truly?"

"Of course."

"Then... I accept!"

---

Reality snapped back. Waves crashed against the hull. Steady-sailing magic kept the ship from rocking violently.

Sally opened her eyes in the cabin. Candlelight flickered over shadowed wood. Night pressed against the porthole. Her gaze drifted left—to a man seated stiffly in a chair beside her bed. Golden hair. A scarlet tweed coat trimmed with snow fox fur at collar and cuffs. Handsome... far handsomer than any noble she’d ever seen.

"Master!?"

She jolted upright, hand flying to her mouth. When she tried to scramble off the bed to kneel, he stopped her with a gesture.

"Your name?"

"Sally, Master... I have no surname."

The nobleman gave a curt nod, then rose. *Is this it? My first time... taken by this stranger? But... who is he? Does it matter? My duty is to win a noble’s heart. Even if my fate turns cruel... Sasha will gain a better life. Her suffering will end...*

Yet no rough hands seized her. The handsome man simply turned and walked out, not glancing back.

*Am I not beautiful enough? No... I know my worth. Of all the girls chosen, only a dozen remained—including me. Has he uncovered my mission? Impossible. We’ve never met. He can’t know my purpose... Then why? Why?*

---

Disguised as Dracula, Pipe Captain strode onto the deck of the *Resurrection Goddess*, gazing at the churning sea. *What now? I’ve brought a human girl aboard by accident. I’m a pirate... an undead captain... My crew are monsters who devour flesh. Even the human pirates among them—letting her stay with them? Unthinkable. She’s done me no harm. But feeding her to the crew? No. I won him from the prince in a wager. To maintain my Dracula persona, I infiltrated noble circles. If the prince visits and finds her gone... suspicion will follow.*

Jumpers’ intel echoed in his mind: Gods occasionally descended upon this world—sometimes just, sometimes wrathful demons. Humans had slain gods before. Centuries ago, a flood of deities and demons triggered the War of Divinities, nearly shattering the world... These scattered sea-islands were mere fragments of the original continent...

*"...Where do I stand...? Greenland."*

"Master, how shall we handle this human? Shall I hand her to Monpete to extract her conspirators’ names?"

"Keep her as a pet for now. Our Dracula identity has gathered too much attention. If she vanishes abruptly, watchful eyes will notice... What of her contact?"

"Purames has been informed. Intel should arrive soon."

"Good. Maintain surveillance. Let her be bait. They think to hook us with her... but *they’re* the fish. No—mere insects, foolishly drawn to flame. Let them savor their final illusions."

"Understood."

---

On a bridge outside Misthaven, White Oak Kingdom...

A mounted knightly squadron gathered, armor glinting under gray skies. Axes, flails, and spears gripped tight. Sweat beaded on the brows of those in front.

"Damn you! You—you’re a knight of the realm too! How... how can you do this!?"

The scene shifted. At the bridge’s edge stood their leader, plumed helmet gleaming. Opposing him, alone on the bridge, was a figure clad head-to-toe in white: tunic, trousers, cloth shoes, head-wrap, cloak, face-mask—all pristine. In his hand, a slender silver rapier gleamed. Behind him, an elderly commoner slumped against the railing, leg injured, breath ragged.

"......"

The white-clad knight said nothing. Only his icy eyes, sharp with killing intent, held the squadron’s gaze. One man against fifty.

"You’re a knight too... You know the Wolfpack Order is summoned to Misthaven. We *must* cross this bridge—urgently."

"......"

The old man gasped, struggling to speak. "Sir Knight... thank you for saving me... Don’t quarrel over a worthless life like mine... Leave me... I won’t last much longer..."

The youth flicked a glance at him. Silent. Unmoving. Clearly guarding the old man.

"Bastard!"

Seizing the distraction, the knight-commander spurred his horse forward, axe-spear thrusting at the youth. *Perfect. If I miss him, I’ll trample the old man. No noble would die for a peasant!*

"......"

The white knight stepped forward. His hand shot out—*clamped* the charging axe-spear. He stomped the ground, pivoting aside as the horse lunged past. With a brutal twist, he wrenched the weapon sideways.

*CRACK!*

A horse’s leg went flying, blood spraying in its wake. Rider and mount crashed down. The commander’s neck snapped on impact—dead before he hit the dirt. The white knight reappeared at his original spot as if untouched, flicking blood from his blade before sheathing it slowly.

*Hssss—*

Fifty knights sucked in breath. A bearded deputy captain dismounted, helmet removed. He approached, bowing deeply.

"Honored Knight, I lead the Wolfpack Order now. Let us negotiate: We’ll provide a carriage and coin for this elder’s journey home. Please... grant us passage. I beg you!"

"But the commander—"

"Fool! He’s *dead*! I won’t waste more lives for his pride. I command here now—do you defy orders?"

"My apologies, sir..."

"Hmph!"

The deputy turned back to the white knight, bowing lower. "Your mercy honors us."

After a long, cold stare, the youth wordlessly stepped aside.

"Gratitude! You—fetch a carriage! You—tend the elder’s leg, use healing salve!"

As the old man’s cart rumbled away, the knights hurried across the bridge, eyes downcast. Only the deputy paused his horse mid-crossing. He raised a gauntleted fist to his chest—a knight’s salute—before galloping after his retreating column.

---

Devil’s Sea, Death’s Summer Bay... aboard the *Resurrection Goddess*...

Purames slipped into the captain’s cabin, smiling at its lavish decor. She sank into the captain’s chair, nuzzling the high back.

"So long since I’ve seen our Captain... When will he return? This scent... it’s all his..."

She hugged the chair tightly, cheeks flushing. *I want to bear him baby skeletons... no! A whole brood of them! And little Sirens too! If I gift him heirs, the Scythe of Death will grow unstoppable! What a splendid plan! Teehee... oh, stop it!*

Giggling, she writhed in the chair—until her wristband glowed. She scowled, reluctantly rising.

Below decks, in the gunpowder-scented cannon hold, Golden Key inspected the Fire God Cannons. Suddenly, Silver Lock’s arms wrapped around him from behind.

Meanwhile, Silver Lock’s small hands kept caressing and kneading her sensitive spots...

“Ah~~ Stop that...”

“Sister... you’re lying again... A dishonest sister needs punishment...”

“We’re on duty... ah~ no...”

“No one’s around anyway. Why not now? ‘Work’? The Fire God Cannon has its own repair magic array—you think I don’t know? Making excuses... Double punishment!”

“....Ah~~ Spare me... don’t...”

At the bow, Lil V and Hill Rock played tug-of-war. Nearby, skeleton and ghost crew members bet gold coins. Del Sira acted as referee and bookie.

“Bets final! No changes!”

“Go, Lady Lil V!!”

“Lord Hill Rock!~ Give it your all! I’ve wagered my underwear on you!”

“Piss off! You never wore underwear even when alive!”

“What do you mean ‘never’? I did!”

“In this state, does it even matter!?”

Lil V and Hill Rock gripped opposite ends of a metal rod, straining hard.

“Surrender now, you lose half... Deal, little sister?”

“Like having sex but quitting before climax? Sister, I never surrender!”

“Ha~ Then try this!”

One of Lil V’s hands morphed into a thick, scaly arm.

“You’re transforming? I won’t lose either~ Watch~ Let’s both go wild~”

Hillock’s arm swelled into a tentacle-covered limb, suckers dotting its surface like an octopus’s.

“Didn’t know you had skills... little sister...”

“Same to you, sister~”

“Stop it! Both of you!”

Purames appeared at the bow... Lil V instantly released her grip.

“Damn you, sister~!”

Hill Rock clutched the rod, sliding backward off the ship into the black water... *splash*...

“I followed orders...”

Lil V shrugged. All crew faced Purames.

“Unidentified fleet shadows spotted west—they’re scouting the route into Death Summer Bay. Full alert! Ghost scouts, monitor closely!”

At Purames’ command, the crew sprang into action... Thick fog rose, blanketing the sea... Ghosts darted through the mist...

————

Outside the Devil’s Sea of Death Summer Bay... ten massive sail ships patrolled.

On the lion-figurehead flagship, a knight in armor—red surcoat edged with gold, helmeted—squinted at the waters.

“I sense a trace of evil aura... Faramir (see Vol.1: Another World)... Is this the sea?”

“Yes. Last time, Wells and I found it here. Pure silver amulets turned dull...”

“Good. Our nation needs funds... If the Storm Sea Knights exterminate these evils and seize treasure, I’ll earn the Papal Court’s favor. When promoted... I’ll make you my successor.”

“Thank you, my lord. I’m grateful... But Wells...”

“Hmph. Forget him. Follow me—Wells is nobles’ faction. Only under His Holiness do you rise smoothly.”

The golden-haired youth bowed. The armored commander nodded, then faced his subordinates.

“Full recon! Any word from the mist-shrouded zone?”

“None yet. The ‘Jaegers’ haven’t returned...”

“Tch... Those auxiliaries act so high-and-mighty... How long could they fly without our ships? Joke...”

Above the mist, a glider pilot gritted his teeth, wrestling the wings.

“Damn! Damn! Ghosts! Why so many here! Damn!”

He glanced back—ghosts chased and downed his teammates. The Jaeger captain strained toward the mist’s edge.

“Must report back! Must survive...”

Almost there... seconds from freedom... A thick pillar loomed ahead—no, a sucker-lined tentacle. It crushed down, suckers gaping, thin tendrils snaking out.

“What is this!?”

Trapped, he was seized. Sliding down the sinking tentacle, he plummeted... Below, a monstrous maw bristling with teeth waited to swallow him....