Ms. Pirate

"Ms. Pirate."

Irina's body froze again, that sealed artefact locking her in place. Where? Where is the bastard who threw it?! I can't stop it if I can't see it!

The Mandated Punishers had seen her counter it before. Contrary to popular belief, it appeared that they weren't complete idiots. They must have thrown it from an angle I can't see.

Three of them lunged from different directions, closing off every escape route. If she defended herself as before, the force of her shields would crush her between them.

Unless...

A plan clicked into place. With barely a moment to act, she conjured four shields in a square formation—two major ones to take the brunt of the attacks, two smaller ones on the flanks to absorb the collision's impact.

They snapped into place just as the blows landed. The shields absorbed not just the physical attacks but also the slicing wind blades from yet another unseen artefact.

A sharp thunk echoed behind her.

Suddenly, she could move again.

Irina jumped back, her gaze darting to the stained, bandage-wrapped stone as it rolled across the ground—only to be caught by the only official Beyonder who had yet to move.

Him, the one who called me a pirate.

A whistling sound cut through the air. She twisted sharply to avoid another wind blade, watching it carve cleanly through a tree. By the time her eyes snapped back, the stone was gone.

SHIT.

She leapt high, just as two more Beyonders rushed beneath her, fists drawn.

Then—a familiar sound.

The rustle of fabric. The scrape of leather. A faint metallic click.

Her eyes widened. Gun!

She conjured a shield instantly, but before she could brace herself—

Her body froze mid-air.

No—!

She crashed hard onto the ground.

Bang!

The bullet slammed into her shield—absorbed, yes, but barely. The next hit came way too quickly for her liking from a Mandated Punisher's fist, driving the barrier straight into her still-paralyzed form.

Pain exploded through her ribs, spreading through her entire body.

Another blow followed, striking her square in the stomach. The shield she managed to form in time was too small, dispersing the force rather than blocking it entirely.

She was sent flying once more.

The impact rattled her bones as she hit yet another tree, slamming against the trunk before sliding down ungracefully.

FOR.

The bloodstained ground blurred before her as her body refused to obey her.

FUCK'S.

A dull thud reached her ears.

The stone.

She was finally granted freedom.

SAKE.

Lifting her head, she caught sight of the three approaching attackers. The last one remained further back, his hands steady on another artifact—the source of those wind blades.

I am a sequence SIX.

Pain radiated from her stomach, seeping into her chest, her legs, her arms, her neck, forcing a ragged cough from her lips.

Shit. That HURTS!

Her gloved fingers curled into the dirt, mixing blood with earth.

I was being nice. Too nice apparently.

Two of them closed in.

She tried to move, but her body was frozen—again.

I warned them.

Twenty-five meters. Small rings materialized across the ground before her, but the Beyonders merely sidestepped them, closing in fast.

Twenty meters. She grimaced, still unable to move, still unable to see where that damn stone was.

Fifteen meters. They didn't stop. Don't come crying later.

Ten meters. Sun.

Five meters. A brilliant blue ring flared into existence before her, shielding her completely.

Then, the night split open.

A pillar of light, as scorching as fire and as blinding as the summer sun descended from the skies. The ground ignited beneath it, the air burning with heat as the earth itself blackened and cracked. Even behind her shield, sweat built on Irina's skin from the sheer intensity.

"WHAT—!" Screamed in shock the one whose leg Irina broke.

"FUCK!" Two howled in pain.

"JACK!" One more shouted.

Irina carefully rose from the ground, summoning a shield flat in the air and settling onto it instead. She lifted herself high enough to be at eye level with the men, legs crossed in a show of composure. The lingering light from her earlier attack refused to fade, its brilliance stretching out longer than necessary—a deliberate choice on her part. After all, she needed the time to look presentable, to keep her persona intact.

As the brightness finally receded, she took in the five Beyonders—injured and uninjured alike. Two of the closest ones bore the worst of it, their clothes charred, fabric blackened in some areas. Their arms were red, blistered. Second-degree burns.

"This is my final warning." Her voice was steady and unwavering. "I didn't aim for either of you, but if you continue, I won't hold back."

She leaned against the tree trunk behind her, trying her best to mask the pain as she casually rested an arm over her knee.

One of them twitched—too sudden, too sharp for her liking.

Without hesitation, she conjured a large golden ring beneath his feet—the same formula used to summon the sun attack written on it—then placed one under each of the others for good measure. "Do not make me repeat myself."

"Fucking wom—"

"Step DOWN."

Her head tilted slightly, her gaze locking onto the one furthest back—the Beyonder wielding the artifact that had sent those wind blades flying. A crossbow. Activating her spirit vision, she began studying it with interest. A Sequence 6 Wind-Blessed artifact. 287 years old. It doesn't require arrows; instead, it consumes spirituality. The more the user fires, the more irascible he becomes.

The three Beyonders who had charged at her reacted differently.

One slumped onto the ground, trembling, his burned arms held stiffly at his sides as his teeth gritted against the pain. Another remained motionless, rage burning in his dark gaze, deeper and more visceral than anything Irina had ever encountered.

The last hesitated, glancing toward the man with the crossbow. "But Jack—"

"Step. Down," Jack seethed, his voice as sharp as the blades he aimed at Irina during the fight. His glare alone forced his teammate into silence.

A flicker of something caught Irina's attention and her eyes snapped to the object.

A glass ring. 720 years old. Sequence 7 Psychiatrist. Keeps the holder's thoughts clear but... uh... she blinked once, trying to make sense of the remaining information. If worn for more than four hours, the user's own thoughts begin to fade. After five, the effect is irreversible, rendering the user a vegetable.

How did I not notice it earlier? Her gaze narrowed, focusing intently on it until the missing information slotted into place.

Is easily overlooked.

She blinked. Spectator Pathway. Of course.

A loud grunt drew her attention back. The brown-haired man—still bristling with fury—glared at her with such sheer hatred that, for a split second, a chill threatened to creep up her spine.

Jack, their apparent leader, studied her carefully before finally speaking. His voice was cold while asking, "So you're not a pirate?"

"No." She didn't bother elaborating, no longer caring after all the effort she had put into the battle.

His eye twitched, but he remained composed. Yet, she noticed the tension in his posture, in the measured way he spoke. "What did you mean when you said your group was fighting the captain?"

"He was corrupted. My companion and Just Elland were handling him at the harbor."

Jack frowned. "'Just Elland'? The Captain of the White Agate? That ship wasn't supposed to dock here."

"It wasn't," she agreed easily. "But we encountered the Red Skull on the way, so he changed course."

Jack's brows furrowed. "That's a minor pirate crew. Its captain wouldn't alter his route for something so small. Were the damages really that severe?"

No wonder he doesn't believe me. That captain has a bounty of 900 pounds—not low, but hardly enough to warrant docking at an unscheduled location.

Irina merely shrugged. "They didn't attack but simply left."

Jack blinked. "What?"

She waved a hand dismissively. "And even if they had, a pirate crew like that? As an adventurer, their bounty would've been nice to cash in."

Silence stretched between them.

... what did I say?

Only the wind and the crackling of flames filled the void.

Irina's gaze flickered toward the close fire. Some of the vegetation was still burning. Ah.

With a small gesture, multiple glowing rings materialized at the base of the flames. The fire flickered unnaturally before rising into the air, spiraling upward and vanishing into the night. This whole island will be leveled anyway, but still. I don't want to be the cause of it burning down.

"So, you're a new adventurer at sea." Jack's voice pulled her attention back. "Your name is unfamiliar."

She looked back at him with mild annoyance. "Yes."

His eyes narrowed. "And yet, you're clearly a mid-sequence Beyonder."

Another shrug. "Life on land doesn't pay enough. Why should we ignore all those high bounties when money literally walks around on these islands?"

"'We'?" Jack repeated.

"My companion and I. We tend to work together." She pushed herself up, stepping off the floating shield. "He should be waiting for me on the White Agate. It's about time I went back."

"Wait!" Jack's voice rang out, stopping her in her tracks.

She turned slightly, brow arched even though he wouldn't be able to see it beneath her lace.

"Why did you come up the mountain?"

She considered lying.

Then, exhaustion and lingering pain made the choice for her. She no longer cared. "Curiosity."

Jack muttered something under his breath, disbelieving. "Curiosity..."

She took a step forward.

"Let us come with you." His voice was firm, as if she didn't have a choice. "I want to speak with Captain Elland."

She didn't even bother looking back. "Sure. But I'm not waiting."

With that, she started trekking down the mountain, dissipating the golden rings under their feet.

Jack cursed but wasted no time. He turned to his men, barking orders right and left. The two with second-degree burns were to accompany him. The less injured one was tasked with helping Eric, whose leg was still bent the wrong way.

It wasn't long before she heard footsteps racing to catch up with her.

Without slowing down, she cast a glance over her shoulder. Goddess, I doubt they're stupid enough to try and attack me again, but still...

Her fingers twitched slightly, a protection ring at her fingertips, ready to be summoned.

Half an hour later, Klein's gaze sharpened as he noticed four figures approaching. The one in front was unmistakably feminine, her draped skirt swaying with each step—Irina.

Behind her, three men followed suit with tense movements, their expressions unreadable from this distance.

Activating his Spirit Vision, pale blue light flickered before Klein's eyes, revealing the shifting hues of their emotions. Two of them were severely injured, mostly their burned arms. But their rage burned just as hot.

Then his eyes landed on Irina.

Wait. Her torso—she's injured too!

A sharp pang of unease settled in his chest. His mind immediately recalled the blinding beam of light that had torn through the sky earlier, crashing onto the mountaintop.

Who—or what—was she fighting up there? He tried to think of a possible enemy but came up empty-handed.

That spell... It's one of—if not the strongest she has. I'm certain of it.

Elland stepped forward, gripping the ship's handrail as the approaching figures neared. His sharp eyes tracked the familiar figure—Elena. Yet, the men trailing behind her were unknown.

He turned slightly, about to ask Gehrman if he could confirm her identity, when Irina suddenly lifted an arm, flicking her fingers in a quick snapping motion before letting it fall to her side once more.

Elland hesitated at the action. What was that?

Before he could voice the question, he caught sight of Gehrman staring at his own arm in contemplation. Then, with quiet certainty, he turned to Elland. "That's Elena."

The defense rings she gave me—they disappeared the moment she made that motion. It's really her.

A subtle exhale left the captain's lips at the confirmation. Still, his gaze flickered toward the men behind her. "And them?"

"I don't know," Klein admitted, voice neutral. "But they're injured." He left out the fact that she was as well.

Elland hesitated just a second before nodding to the sailors. The gangway was lowered.

Irina walked up without hesitation, her pace steady despite the pain she must have been feeling. As she reached the deck, her voice was dismissive, motioning behind her, "Mandated Punishers."

With that, she walked past them.

Danitz, who had been standing off to the side, stared at her as though she had just risen from the depths of the underworld itself. His mouth hung open slightly, eyes blown wide with disbelief.

Before he could gather his thoughts, a bundle of fabric flew in his direction. He barely caught it, his hands fumbling around the weight of what he now recognized as her ruined jacket and scarf.

Irina didn't even glance back. She stepped into the corridor, her focus locked on the cabin doors.

"Wait," Jack called out behind her.

She didn't.

Without even pausing, she simply raised a hand and flipped them off.

Elland barely had time to blink before Klein's voice cut through the moment. "Take the master bedroom."

She slowed for a second—just a second—before nodding. The door clicked shut behind her.

For a moment, silence stretched across the deck. Then, finally, Danitz exhaled sharply.

His grip on the clothes tightened, his mind was still trying to catch up on the whole events. She's... she's actually alive...

Oh, Lord of Storms, the Mandated Punishers saved her!

He looked down at the tattered garments in his hands in confusion. "What am I supposed to do with these?"

Gehrman's voice, flat as ever, answered from further away. "Wash them."

Danitz nearly choked at the revelation. Dogshit!

His eyebrow twitched violently, but he forced himself to hold his tongue. The last thing he needed was to attract the Mandated Punishers' attention.

Speaking of whom—the pirate raised his gaze from the clothes to those three Beyonders who stood stiffly on deck with their jaws pulled tight, their eyes practically twitching with suppressed fury.

She thanked them for saving her life with a middle finger—a fuck you?!

They didn't react, but their clenched fists said enough.

Danitz, now staring at the closed cabin door, rubbed his chin in thought.

Maybe she's pissed Gehrman left her to die... yeah, that makes sense. When women get angry, they usually lash out at everyone around them.

Slowly, he nodded to himself, pleased with his own deduction. Yes. That must be it! Once again, I understood what was going on. My deduction skills are fantastic. The captain would be so proud of me!

Meanwhile, one of the Mandated Punishers waved the surrounding crew away, lowering his voice as he began speaking to Elland.

Klein remained where he was, making no move to listen in.

A few minutes later, Elland returned Bishop Millet's remaining characteristic to the Mandated Punishers and watched as they departed the White Agate to handle the rest of the mess.

Phew... He exhaled slowly, then strode over to Gehrman and Danitz. Though his voice was casual, a lingering edge of unease remained. "The matter has been resolved. There aren't any problems."

Has it really been solved? Klein's thoughts lingered on the telegraph office door. Paavo Court. Melanie. Fox.

Elland's voice pulled him back. "Jayce uncovered heretics reviving ancient customs—cannibalism, live sacrifice. He rushed to report it... but Millet had already been corrupted. He slit Jayce's throat in the cathedral."

Elland exhaled. "He tried to cover it up, but the servants found out. Some were turned into monsters while others fled underground. With no choice, Millet gathered the heretics and led them to the altar. The storm? That was them."

His gaze darkened. "The Mandated Punishers intervened. Millet escaped, but the rest fought till the end."

A sigh. "The Church is investigating Millet's fall. I told them we only managed to kill him because he was already dying." He smirked slightly. "Oh, and the Mandated Punishers want the Branch and Timothy families to sign a confidentiality agreement."

With that, he rolled his shoulders as if shaking off the weight of it all.

Then he suddenly froze, as if remembering something.

"Right. They asked about Elena Jeager." He frowned slightly. "They looked weird—definitely angry—but they didn't explain why."

Angered?

Klein's gaze flickered slightly, recalling the state of the Punishers as they left. Two of them had suffered second-degree burns, their arms deformed by a scorching heat while their clothes were singed and tattered.

They had to have been close to that light beam. The one Irina summoned.

His mind quickly pieced together the implications. A battle must have broken out between them. Given the chaos of the situation, it was only natural for the Church to be wary of mid-sequence Beyonders appearing out of nowhere, hence, they attacked Irina after spotting her.

His gaze lifted to the peak of the mountain. But the night's darkness was still thick, shrouding it completely—no outline, no trace of what had happened.

They fought, and Irina must've been forced back, leaving her no choice but to use her strongest attack.

Klein looked back at Elland. She knows killing official Beyonders would only lead to more problems. So she hadn't aimed at them directly, but they still ended up severely injured from the close proximity. Perhaps it was even intentional on her part, as to make them understand the sheer difference in strength between them.

"Must've been a misunderstanding," he said simply.

Elland gave a small nod, not expecting much more from Gehrman.

With that, he turned away and busied himself with the remaining matters.

Klein, however, didn't relax. Even as the night stretched on, he remained on deck, his gaze fixed on the horizon. Only when the first rays of sunlight crept over the sea, setting the sky ablaze with soft gold and amber, did he exhale.

Slowly, Bansy Harbor began to change, wake up from its slumber.

One by one, its residents emerged from their homes, bathed in golden light. They chatted, laughed, walking toward their daily routines as if the nightmare of the past day had never happened.

It's really over...

Klein turned slightly, a vague sense of puzzlement settling over him. He had planned to get some rest—but only after the ship had departed.

Danitz, who had been yawning for quite some time now, remained frozen in place. He wasn't about to move while Gehrman Sparrow was still standing still.

As Klein made his way toward the cabins, he passed Elland, who looked just as exhausted.

"Good morning," the captain greeted with a tired but genuine smile. "We're about to leave port. There's nothing to worry about."

As he spoke, the White Agate's whistle cut through the morning air.

Not far away, in a first-class cabin, Irina groaned and rolled over in bed.

The pillow was shoved against her ears, her fingers gripping it tight as the loud, shrill whistle drilled straight into her skull.

Her face twisted in irritation, Just let me sleep!

Upon hearing those words, Klein let out a slow breath. He would put Bansy Harbor behind him.

Elland stretched, sighing. "Last night, I had this strange feeling... like the old Binsy and modern Bansy Harbor overlapped."

Klein, about to walk past, froze. "Binsy?"

Elland chuckled. "That was its ancient name, from three or four hundred years ago. Over time, it became Bansy."

Klein's pupils shrank.

Binsy Town.

Back in Backlund's underground ruins, an evil spirit had said—if one sought a founder of Rose Redemption, the former King of Angels, Medici, and his descendants...

They should go to Binsy Town.