The voyage back to Atlantis lasted nearly a month.

  Days blended into one another beneath the endless vault of stone far above, where distant Stars glimmered faintly like scattered embers. The sea stretched in every direction — vast, steady, unchanged — its rhythm becoming as familiar as breathing itself.

  Life aboard the ship settled into routine. Repairs at dawn. Training on the deck when the waters were calm. Long watches spent scanning the horizon for islands or Apex silhouettes cutting through the air or surf.

  And in the quiet moments between duties, Adlet found himself alone with his thoughts.

  The sea had a way of silencing everything else. With no forests closing around him and no city noise to fill the air, there was nothing left to distract him from himself. The steady roll of the ship seemed to pull memories to the surface — battles fought, mistakes made, victories that still felt unreal.

  Somewhere during that long return, almost without noticing, Adlet turned fifteen.

  The realization came quietly.

  He had been sitting near the bow during a night watch, counting the days since leaving Atlantis, tracing the rhythm of the voyage backward through memory — the island, the battles, the weeks at sea before that. The number settled in his mind slowly, almost unreal.

  Fifteen.

  No ceremony marked it. No familiar faces. Just the steady breathing of the ocean and the faint glow of distant Stars reflected across dark water.

  For a while, he said nothing.

  Birthdays had never meant much where he came from. Another year simply meant working harder, growing stronger, surviving a little longer. Still, the thought lingered longer than he expected.

  Polo noticed eventually — not the date itself, but Adlet’s distraction.

  “You’ve been staring at the water for ten minutes,” he said, leaning against the railing. “Either you discovered something profound… or you’re half asleep.”

  Adlet hesitated, then shrugged lightly. “I think… I just turned fifteen.”

  Polo blinked once, processing — then broke into a wide grin.

  “Well, that sounds like a perfectly good excuse.”

  By evening, the entire crew somehow knew.

  They gathered on the deck after nightfall, lanterns swaying gently with the motion of the ship. Someone produced preserved fruit and salted meat saved for better days. Another uncorked a bottle meant for profitable voyages. Rough voices rose into song — off-key, loud, and completely unrestrained — while laughter rolled across the wooden planks.

  It wasn’t grand. It wasn’t planned.

  But it was warm.

  For a few hours, Adlet forgot about ranks, battles, and expectations. Food passed from hand to hand, jokes flew freely, and the creak of the ship blended with laughter carried across the waves.

  For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like a stranger moving through someone else’s world.

  He simply felt… included.

  The moment passed quickly, as all calm moments did. By morning, routines returned, and the voyage resumed beneath the quiet glow of the distant Stars.

  Weeks later, the pale silhouette of Atlantis emerged along the shoreline.

  Even from afar, the city felt immense — white stone rising beside the sea, docks crowded with ships arriving and departing without pause. As they approached, familiar sounds replaced the endless hush of the ocean: shouted orders, creaking cranes, merchants arguing over cargo.

  The stillness of the sea vanished instantly.

  Atlantis was alive.

  Adlet leaned against the railing as the ship docked, his pulse quickening despite himself. Excitement mixed with uncertainty, tightening something in his chest. The city no longer felt entirely foreign — yet he wasn’t sure where he fit within it now.

  The moment the gangplank dropped, movement took over. Crew members hurried to unload cargo, voices overlapping in organized chaos.

  There was no time to linger.

  Adlet and Polo disembarked quickly, weaving through the crowded docks and into the flowing streets beyond. White stone passed beneath their feet, warm from constant traffic, while the noise of the city surged around them like a living current.

  Instinctively, Adlet gripped the strap at his shoulder as they pushed forward toward Niccolo’s workshop.

  After weeks at sea, the world suddenly felt fast again.

  And somehow… smaller.

  When they finally reached Atlantis, the ship barely had time to settle against the docks before movement swallowed them again.

  The harbor roared with life — ropes creaking, sailors shouting, cargo cranes groaning under impossible weights. White stone quays stretched endlessly along the shoreline, reflecting the pale glow of the Stars above, while merchants and Protectors moved in constant streams between warehouses and ships.

  Adlet stepped onto solid ground, the faint sway of the sea still lingering in his legs. The city felt even larger than he remembered — louder, faster, alive in a way that never truly rested. The scent of salt mixed with spices and heated metal, and for a moment he simply stood there, taking it in.

  They were back.

  But there was no time to linger.

  Polo was already moving, urgency written across his face, and Adlet followed without hesitation. They crossed crowded streets and narrow canals, weaving through merchants and laborers until the familiar district of Niccolo’s company came into view.

  Polo barely waited for greetings.

  “The workshop,” he said, already pushing the door open.

  Inside, the calmer air smelled of ink, oil, and treated wood — a sharp contrast to the chaos outside. Papers rustled as Niccolo looked up from his desk, surprise flashing across his features.

  “You’re back already—?”

  The demonstration answered the rest.

  The Shellshot hummed faintly as Polo activated it, Aura threading through the modified crab claw mechanism. The feather projectile launched with a sharp crack, embedding itself deep into a reinforced practice board across the room.

  Silence followed.

  Niccolo blinked once.

  Twice.

  Adlet watched the transformation unfold across the older man’s face — confusion giving way to realization, then astonishment.

  “This is…” Niccolo stepped closer, examining the weapon with careful disbelief. “…extraordinary.”

  His fingers hovered near the mechanism without touching it, as though afraid it might vanish.

  “You’ve turned Apex remains into a functional ranged weapon,” he murmured. “Do you understand what this means? The Guild will go mad over this.”

  Polo tried — and failed — to hide his pride.

  Adlet only exhaled slowly, tension leaving his shoulders. Hearing those words from Niccolo carried more weight than applause ever could.

  Niccolo straightened abruptly, energy returning to him all at once.

  “You two have done more than enough,” he said, already gathering documents. “Rest. Leave the negotiations to me. If this sells the way I think it will, our company’s name won’t stay small for long.”

  Weeks passed beneath the restless rhythm of Atlantis.

  Days blurred together in motion and discovery. Without immediate expeditions to prepare for, Adlet and Polo found themselves exploring the city they had only glimpsed before — sprawling markets filled with foreign goods, training courts where Protectors from distant regions tested unfamiliar techniques, and long canals where ships drifted silently between districts like moving streets.

  Atlantis never truly slept.

  Even at night, lantern light shimmered across white stone while distant music and conversation echoed through open plazas. The city felt endless, full of possibilities Adlet had never imagined when he first left home.

  Yet beneath the excitement lingered a quiet anticipation — the sense that something was building just out of sight.

  It arrived one afternoon.

  Niccolo burst into the courtyard near their headquarters, breath quick, eyes bright with barely contained excitement. An official parchment waved in his hand.

  “Good news, boys!”

  Both Adlet and Polo straightened instantly.

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  Niccolo didn’t bother with suspense.

  “We’ve been promoted.”

  He thrust the document forward.

  “Silver Rank.”

  For a heartbeat, the words didn’t register.

  Then the meaning struck.

  Silver companies ventured farther. Took greater contracts. Faced stronger Apexes. Earned real recognition.

  The world around Adlet seemed to slow as realization settled in his chest — pride, disbelief, and something sharper beneath it.

  Polo whooped loudly, grabbing Adlet’s shoulder and shaking him.

  “We did it!”

  Laughter broke free between them, raw and unrestrained. Even Niccolo allowed himself a rare, satisfied smile as nearby workers turned to stare at the celebration.

  Their company had just stepped into an entirely different league.

  But as the excitement settled, Adlet felt another sensation quietly take root beneath the joy.

  Expectation.

  Silver Rank meant harder voyages. Greater dangers. Higher stakes.

  The path ahead had just widened — and grown far more unforgiving.

  And for the first time since arriving in Atlantis, Adlet understood that the next step would demand more from him than simple determination.

  With their promotion confirmed, choosing their next destination became unavoidable.

  The three of them headed toward the Protectors’ Guild, its vast marble fa?ade rising above the surrounding streets like a monument to ambition itself. Even before entering, they could hear the noise within — overlapping conversations, bursts of laughter, the metallic clink of equipment being adjusted or inspected.

  Inside, the hall was alive.

  Protectors gathered in clusters beneath towering columns, Aura flickering faintly around some of them as they argued over contracts or compared recent expeditions. Messengers moved quickly between groups, parchment scrolls changing hands every few seconds. The air carried the scent of polished stone, leather, and sea salt drifting in from the harbor.

  But something unusual drew attention toward the center of the hall.

  A crowd had formed — not chaotic, but organized, almost respectful. A line stretched across the marble floor, composed mostly of experienced Protectors judging by their insignias.

  At its head stood a girl, perhaps sixteen.

  Her wavy blonde hair caught the pale light filtering through the high arches above, but it wasn’t her appearance that held Adlet’s gaze. It was her composure. While voices echoed and boots scraped against stone all around her, she remained perfectly still, observing each newcomer with calm attentiveness.

  She looked… at ease.

  As though this overwhelming place naturally bent around her presence.

  Beside her stood a tall young man in light armor that gleamed softly without excess ornament. A spear crafted from pale bone rested comfortably in his hand, held not like a weapon on display but like an extension of his body.

  Adlet felt it immediately.

  Power.

  Not loud or oppressive like some Protectors — but deep, controlled. The kind that didn’t need to prove itself.

  Curious, Niccolo slowed and stopped a man lingering near the back of the line.

  “What’s happening?” he asked casually.

  The man leaned closer, clearly eager to share.

  “The lord’s daughter is recruiting Silver and Gold companies,” he whispered. “An expedition.”

  He paused for effect.

  “To the Forbidden Island.”

  Niccolo and Polo exchanged a sharp look.

  Adlet felt his pulse quicken.

  “The Forbidden Island…?” he repeated quietly.

  Polo nodded, voice lowered instinctively. “Largest island in the Neraid Sea. And the most dangerous. Even Gold companies rarely receive permission to go there.”

  The words settled heavily.

  A forbidden place. Untamed. Uncertain.

  Adlet felt something stir deep inside him — the same pull he had felt before every turning point of his journey. Fear brushed against it… but curiosity burned brighter.

  Around them, the hall continued buzzing, unaware of the decision forming between the three companions.

  Niccolo smiled first, a knowing expression crossing his face.

  “Opportunities like this don’t come twice.”

  Polo didn’t hesitate. His eyes shone with barely restrained excitement.

  “It’s always been my dream to go there.”

  Adlet exhaled slowly.

  Every instinct warned him this expedition would be different from anything he had faced before.

  And that was precisely why he couldn’t ignore it.

  They stepped into the line.

  When their turn finally came, the armored man greeted them with an easy warmth that contrasted with his imposing presence.

  “Thank you for volunteering,” he said, voice steady and welcoming. “Will all three of you be joining the expedition?”

  Niccolo shook his head.

  “Only the two young men.”

  The girl tilted her head slightly, curiosity lighting her expression as she studied Adlet and Polo more carefully.

  “It’s rare to see Protectors this young in a Silver-ranked company.”

  Polo scratched the back of his neck, suddenly self-conscious. “We were promoted… recently.”

  A low chuckle escaped the armored man.

  “Recent or not, Silver rank is earned. That alone deserves respect.”

  Adlet wasn’t sure how to respond. Praise still felt unfamiliar — almost misplaced — and he settled for an awkward nod.

  “Your names?” the man asked, readying a parchment.

  “Adlet and Polo,” Polo answered.

  The man placed a hand over his chest.

  “Lucien. Guard of House Neraid.” He then gestured toward the girl beside him. “And this is Lady Linoa Neraid.”

  The name meant little to Adlet — but the way Lucien spoke it made the hierarchy unmistakable.

  He felt his posture stiffen instantly.

  A quick glance at Polo confirmed he felt the same. Both boys bowed a fraction too fast, too rigidly, suddenly aware of every possible mistake they could make.

  Linoa covered a small laugh behind her hand, amused rather than offended. Lucien’s grin widened, clearly entertained by their panic.

  “Well then,” Lucien said lightly, turning toward her, “since they’re only two, perhaps they could join our ship directly. You wanted Protectors closer to your age, didn’t you?”

  Linoa’s smile brightened.

  “I would like that very much.”

  Lucien nodded approvingly before turning back to them.

  “Excellent. We set sail in three days. Meet us at the harbor.”

  His gaze sharpened slightly — not threatening, but serious.

  “And come prepared.”

  Three days later, the harbor of Atlantis pulsed with restless energy.

  Crates slammed against wooden decks, ropes creaked under tension, and shouted orders carried across the water as ships prepared to depart. Sails unfurled one after another, catching the steady offshore wind, while gulls wheeled overhead, their cries blending with the rhythmic crash of waves against stone piers.

  Dozens of vessels filled the port.

  Yet one drew the eye immediately.

  The ship of House Neraid stood apart from the others — not larger, but unmistakably different. Its hull was reinforced with pale metal ribs worked seamlessly into the wood, etched with protective sigils that shimmered faintly when light touched them. The deck was orderly, almost silent compared to the surrounding chaos. Crew members moved with practiced efficiency, each action precise, each command answered without hesitation.

  This wasn’t a merchant voyage.

  It was an expedition.

  Adlet slowed unconsciously as they approached, the weight of that realization settling in his chest. Until now, every journey he had taken had felt improvised — small crews, uncertain goals, discovery shaped by chance.

  Here, nothing felt accidental.

  Everything had been planned.

  Polo seemed to sense it too, his usual excitement tempered by quiet focus as they climbed the boarding ramp.

  Lucien greeted them with an approving nod, already armored despite the calm departure.

  “You’re on time,” he said simply.

  Beside him, Linoa inclined her head politely, composed as ever. Even surrounded by veteran Protectors preparing equipment and checking weapons, she appeared perfectly at ease — as though this controlled tension belonged to her world.

  Adlet caught himself staring for a moment too long before looking away. Something about the scene pressed against his instincts.

  This wasn’t just another voyage.

  Something important was beginning.

  Behind them, the final ropes were released. Sailors moved in unison, hauling lines as anchors rose from the water with deep metallic groans.

  Lucien stepped forward, his voice carrying effortlessly across the docks.

  “Raise the anchor! Set the sails!”

  A brief pause — then, clear and unwavering:

  “We sail for the Forbidden Island!”

  The command rippled through the crew like a spark.

  The ship lurched gently as it began to move, slipping free from the harbor while other vessels followed at measured distance. Soon the fleet spread across the Neraid Sea, cutting through dark waters as vast currents of drifting light flowed overhead, their glow rippling across the surface like slow-moving constellations.

  Wind filled the sails.

  The city shrank behind them.

  Adlet gripped the railing as the rhythm of the sea took hold beneath his feet. His Aura stirred instinctively, humming faintly in response to the motion, to the anticipation, to the unknown stretching endlessly ahead.

  This felt different.

  Bigger.

  Later, when the harbor had vanished and the ship settled into its steady course, the tension eased slightly. Crew members rotated watches, weapons were secured, and the expedition revealed its quiet discipline — Protectors training in controlled pairs, scouts observing the horizon, navigators adjusting course with careful precision.

  Adlet realized something then.

  Everyone aboard knew exactly why they were here.

  Except him.

  He turned toward Linoa, who stood near the bow watching the sea with thoughtful calm.

  “So… why this expedition?” he asked at last.

  She studied him briefly, as if weighing how much to reveal — then smiled faintly.

  “There’s no reason to hide it from those risking their lives beside me.”

  Her gaze returned to the horizon.

  “I intend to face the island’s Rank 5 species.”

  Adlet felt his breath catch.

  “The Rokh Falcon.”

  The name alone carried weight.

  “A Rank 5…?” he repeated, stunned. “You can fight something like that?”

  Linoa laughed softly, the sound light against the wind.

  “Of course not,” she said. “Not yet.”

  She turned toward them, eyes bright with determination rather than arrogance.

  “That’s why we gathered so many Protectors. Somewhere on that island is a young Rokh — one still within reach. Finding it will be the real challenge.”

  Her gaze moved between Adlet and Polo.

  “The island is vast. Dangerous. Unpredictable. We’ll need every capable scout we have.”

  Adlet’s hands tightened on the railing.

  Rank 5.

  The number alone felt distant — almost unreal — yet instead of fear, something deeper stirred within him. The same pull that had driven him beyond the Academy, beyond Villa-Sylva, beyond every safe boundary he had ever known.

  Growth.

  Risk.

  The chance to stand before something truly overwhelming.

  He exchanged a glance with Polo. No words were needed.

  “You can count on us,” Adlet said.

  Polo grinned, determination blazing in his eyes. “We’ll search every corner of that island if we have to.”

  Linoa’s smile widened, satisfied.

  Wind surged through the sails, snapping them taut as the fleet pushed deeper into open waters. Behind them, Atlantis disappeared into the distance. Ahead lay only dark sea and the promise of something unknown.

  Adlet stood at the bow long after the conversation ended, watching the horizon where water and distant light merged into a single endless line.

  For the first time, he understood.

  He was no longer joining expeditions.

  He was part of one that could change the balance of power itself.

  And somewhere beyond that horizon, something vast was waiting.

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