Bailyn had finally grasped the peculiar disposition of his new master. The young man, Ash, was stoic, his cold and contemplative nature devoid of frivolity. Flattery and fawning were wasted on him, not because he despised them outright but because he found them tiresome. Bailyn’s sharp instincts told him so. Yet, the absence of hierarchy in Ash's mannerisms left Bailyn treading carefully.

"A strange man indeed," Bailyn thought to himself.

Adapting quickly, Bailyn abandoned his sycophantic tendencies. Instead, he opted for efficiency and precision in his tasks. To his surprise, his pragmatic approach gained Ash's tacit approval. Had Ferdinand, the former captain of the Crimson Eagles, lived to witness Bailyn's transformation, he might have dropped his sole remaining eye in shock.

"Master," Bailyn spoke respectfully, his tone steady. "They’ve likely pursued us towards Redstar Cove. They wouldn’t anticipate us cutting through the Shattered Belt and veering toward Reno."

Ash, ever diligent, had spent recent days immersing himself in piloting techniques, pushing his skills beyond Bailyn’s expectations. To him, such intense training bordered on masochistic. Yet Ash, accustomed to grueling self-imposed regimens, had simply adapted his mech training methods to piloting the stolen Crimson Eagles’ flagship. The results were nothing short of extraordinary.

Witnessing Ash's adept handling of the ship, Bailyn proposed a bold maneuver—traversing the perilous Shattered Belt. With the pirates convinced Ash would head to Redstar Cove for supplies, they would focus their efforts there, even enlisting allied pirate groups for support. Meanwhile, Ash and Bailyn would be halfway to Reno.

News of Ferdinand’s assassination spread like wildfire through the underworld. Whispers painted vivid tales of a lone assassin who had infiltrated the heavily guarded Crimson Eagles’ flagship, killed the infamous captain within three moves, and escaped with his ship.

The details came from Iron Fang, Ferdinand’s brutish lieutenant, who had barely escaped with his life. His testimony elevated Ash's mystique to mythical proportions. The thought of recruiting such a lethal assassin became a tantalizing fantasy for many pirate factions, and droves converged on Redstar Cove in hopes of ensnaring the enigmatic figure.

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But Ash, heeding Bailyn’s advice, steered the ship into the hazardous expanse of the Shattered Belt.

For Bailyn, the journey was a nightmare. The dense field of drifting asteroids and debris seemed alive, massive fragments rushing toward them as if with malevolent intent. The sheer proximity of destruction tested Bailyn's nerves to their limit.

Ash, on the other hand, navigated the chaos with a zeal that bordered on exhilaration. His crimson-rimmed eyes gleamed with excitement, a sight that left Bailyn questioning his life choices.

"Why did I suggest this cursed route in the first place?" he muttered under his breath.

The once-pristine Crimson Eagles’ flagship was now a battered wreck. Its hull, once a symbol of Ferdinand’s dominance, bore the scars of relentless asteroid impacts. The exterior was unrecognizable, its sleek design marred by dents and scorches. Yet its internal systems remained intact—a testament to its robust construction.

When the ship finally emerged from the Shattered Belt unscathed, Bailyn collapsed onto the floor, his clothes drenched in sweat. Ash, ever composed, merely glanced back at the asteroid field with a hint of longing, as if reluctant to leave.

Bailyn caught the look and groaned inwardly.

Thank the stars, he’s not turning back, Bailyn thought, breathing a sigh of relief as they set course for Reno.

Once the ship docked at Reno’s orbital station, Bailyn approached Ash hesitantly. "Master, where to next?"

Ash shook his head, deferring the decision. "You know this region better than I do. Where should we go?"

Bailyn pondered for a moment before responding cautiously. "Master, word of Ferdinand’s death is likely all over the networks by now. Many will be waiting for you to appear."

Ash raised an eyebrow. "Waiting for me? For what purpose?"

Bailyn offered a strained smile. "A warrior of your caliber, Master—every faction would kill to have someone like you on their side. They’ll swarm the moment you reveal yourself, using every trick they can muster."

Ash’s expression darkened. Without a word, he drew a blade from his belt, its edge glinting menacingly as he meticulously polished it. The silent message was clear.

Bailyn gulped, silently praying that those hunting them had the sense to reconsider.

After a moment, Ash pulled off the yellow-black patterned jacket Bailyn had previously worn, handing it back to him. "Stay vigilant. Look after yourself."

Bailyn stared at the garment in disbelief. The gesture, understated yet sincere, left him momentarily speechless. In all his years under Ferdinand’s command, not once had his life been valued. To Ash, however, his survival seemed more than an afterthought.

Clutching the jacket, Bailyn’s eyes lit up with realization. A sudden thought crossed his mind, and he exclaimed, "Master, I know where we should go next!"