Silver Sand Bay. The territory of Glossa, one of the three great powers of the Western Archipelago, and the center of the archipelago's slave trade.
A large ship bearing no clear markings was currently docked at Silver Sand Bay's harbor, though this was hardly unusual. Many who came and went from this place preferred not to reveal their identities, and concealing ship markings that might expose one's identity was hardly an uncommon practice.
What no one else knew, however, was that this ship actually harbored a human hero.
In a second-floor cabin, the golden-haired hero Sophia peered through a gap in the curtains at the scene outside.
"I thought you wouldn't dock at this kind of major island," she said.
The priest Samuel beside her answered respectfully: "Lady Sophia, our next destination is an underwater dungeon. Certain necessary equipment can only be purchased on large islands like this."
Sophia nodded, understanding his meaning.
She needed to level up quietly, avoiding attention as much as possible.
Previously, shooting some Lost Souls at the edge of the Mist had helped her reach her current level 22, but that was her limit.
Though the Mist contained more high-level, troublesome monsters, entering the Mist itself was far too dangerous and completely out of consideration.
Their new destination was a dungeon called the Tidal Sanctuary, which, as Samuel had mentioned, was located on the ocean floor.
This special location had created an awkward situation for the dungeon.
Despite containing abundant resources, the extremely difficult entry conditions blocked the vast majority of adventurers.
It wouldn't be wrong to call it the most desolate dungeon of all.
And this was exactly what they needed. Sophia had no objections to this choice.
Sophia's gaze swept across the dock outside.
Scorching sunlight baked the ground as groups of slaves, dressed in rags and wrapped only in coarse, tattered hemp cloth, hauled heavy cargo under the crack of overseers' whips.
The harsh sound of whipping rang out intermittently, audible even from where she stood.
Another group of slaves was being driven forward, iron chains dragging across the ground with dull scraping sounds, as they boarded a slave ship moored at the shore, bound for who knew where.
Watching this scene, Sophia suddenly spoke, her voice betraying no emotion: "Is the master of this island also one of the humans I'm supposed to protect?"
For once, Samuel did not immediately answer her question.
After a long pause, the priest's voice finally came from behind her:
"Lady Sophia, I understand what you mean. But regrettably, yes. At least for now, he is. The Church equally opposes the slave trade. But no matter how deplorable the forces in the archipelago may be, at least now, they stand on the side of humanity as a whole. Facing the powerful Empire, we have no choice but to unite every available force."
*At least for now.*
Sophia understood Samuel's meaning and could comprehend his reasoning.
Still, the scene below remained difficult for her to bear.
...
When the guards who had gone out returned with the purchased supplies and the ship prepared to depart, something unexpected happened.
"Seal the dock! No one is allowed to move! All ships are forbidden from leaving port!"
A thunderous roar instantly tore through the harbor's clamor!
Accompanied by heavy footsteps and the clanging of colliding armor, a massive figure like a mountain of flesh—the Gold-rank garrison commander of Silver Sand Bay—led a large contingent of fully armed soldiers onto the dock with murderous intent.
The entire dock fell into deathly silence. Dock workers froze in place, merchants showed faces of alarm, and slaves cowered together in terror.
"Listen up, all of you! I am Oruk, garrison commander of Silver Sand Bay! By order of Lord Glossa, I'm here to hunt down the assassin who killed Lord Horn! That damned bastard is hiding somewhere on this dock, or aboard one of these ships!"
The Horn he mentioned was none other than Glossa's top lieutenant and secretary—Silver Sand Bay's second-in-command!
News of this man's death struck the dock like a bomb, causing a wave of suppressed gasps.
"From this moment on!" Oruk brandished his terrifying massive spiked club, slamming it heavily onto the stone pavement as fragments scattered, "All ships will immediately cease loading and unloading and are forbidden from leaving port! Submit to thorough searches! Anyone who dares disobey will be executed without mercy! Not even a fly is allowed to escape on my watch!"
The soldiers pounced on the moored ships like hungry wolves, roughly driving back crowds and forcibly boarding for inspections. Ship owners and sailors dared not voice their anger. Faced with Glossa's wrath and Oruk's fierce authority, no one dared provoke trouble at such a time.
Amid the chaos, Sophia's unmarked ship began slowly raising its anchor chains, with sailors starting to methodically untie the mooring lines in preparation for departure.
"Stop! Didn't you hear what I said?! No departures! Submit to inspection!" Oruk's roar blocked the "sailor" who was retracting the gangplank.
The "sailor" stopped his movements, his hand silently moving to rest on his sword hilt, his icy gaze piercing straight at Oruk.
An invisible, suffocating pressure instantly enveloped the garrison commander, causing his corpulent body to instinctively tense for a moment.
*A master!*
Alarm bells rang in Oruk's mind.
Struggling to maintain his authority, he invoked his backing: "Lord Glossa is conducting a thorough investigation of a wanted criminal! Do you intend to defy his lordship's orders?"
The "sailor" on deck gave no response, only sharpening his gaze further, his hand steady as stone on his sword hilt.
What made Oruk's heart sink even more was the sight of seven or eight more figures silently appearing along the ship's rail, their calm gazes settling upon him.
Oruk's instincts screamed frantically—the threatening aura emanating from these people was no weaker than that of the "sailor"!
What in the world was this ship?!
Just as he found himself in an impossible position, unable to advance or retreat, a middle-aged man in dark casual clothing, with a temperament as steady as a mountain peak, appeared at the edge of the ship's deck.
Without so much as glancing at Oruk, he made a simple but decisive gesture to the "sailor" on deck.
The "sailor" immediately understood, completely ignoring Oruk who stood before the ship with an ashen face, and cleanly retracted the gangplank entirely.
The sails filled with wind, and the massive hull began slowly moving, calmly and unstoppably pushing through the waters ahead.
"Bastards! Stop right there!" Oruk roared, raising his spiked club as his arm muscles bulged.
But ultimately, that heavy weapon never came down.
Though the middle-aged man at the ship's rail—the guard captain—had not deliberately released any aura, Oruk's instincts as a Gold-rank warrior screamed warnings:
*Strike, and you die!*
*Absolutely die!*
Oruk's face went deathly pale, his corpulent body rigid in place. He could only watch helplessly as that mysterious ship, with an attitude of near-contempt and unquestionable authority, crushed through his blockade order and slowly sailed away from the chaotic Silver Sand Bay dock.
Coming to his senses, he could only roar impotently at the departing ship's silhouette, venting his frustrated rage on his subordinates and other unfortunate souls on the dock:
"Search! Keep searching! Every inch of deck! Every cargo crate! Dig three feet into the ground if you have to, but find that assassin! Seal the entire port district! Anyone who disobeys—kill them!"
...
About half an hour after leaving port, when the ship had ventured deep into the sparkling waters of the open sea, a hand grasped the ship's rail.
Soon after, a soaking wet young woman climbed aboard.
If Dylan were here, he would surely rush forward to embrace the girl—to embrace his beloved daughter Bella, whom he had missed so dearly.
However, facing Bella now were only the guard captain who had been waiting for some time, and Sophia, who stood at the ship's rail observing her.
Bella seemed unsurprised at being discovered. Her pupils flickered with silver light as she asked tentatively: "You're... from the Church, aren't you?"
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