A deafening silence blanketed the castle, louder than any roar of battle. King Xerxes strode forward, his piercing gaze cutting through the tension. “What is the meaning of this chaos? Have you all lost your minds?” His eyes fell on his son, Xander. “And you! What are you doing here, fighting? You were sentenced to house arrest until summoned!”

Xander, caught off guard, stammered, “But the bells—” he began, gesturing toward the alarm that had echoed through the castle.

Xerxes cut him off with a voice as sharp as a blade. “The bells?” He crossed his arms, towering over Xander. “The last time I checked, I was the king—not some hollow metal giving you orders.”

Xander’s confusion was written plainly across his face. “That’s true, Father, but—”

As the heated exchange continued, Dragon, the commander of the Xargian Guard, seized the opportunity to slip over to her fallen soldier. With swift precision, she began healing Wolf, her hands steady despite the chaos around her.

Xerxes turned his attention back to Xander, his voice colder now. “What more punishment do I need to give you before you learn to follow my commands?”

“Father, you’re not listening!” Xander protested, his frustration bubbling over.

The king pressed his fingers to his temple, exhaling sharply. “Fine. If discipline is what you need, shame will be your teacher. Undress and walk back to your chambers on your hands.”

Xander’s jaw dropped. “But Father, I don’t know how to hand-walk!”

“THEN YOU’LL LEARN WHILE TRYING!” Xerxes roared, his voice reverberating through the hall. “NOW LEAVE! REMAIN IN YOUR CHAMBERS UNTIL I SUMMON YOU!”

Groaning in defeat, Xander removed his clothes and borrowed sword, tossing them aside. He crouched down and placed his hands on the ground, attempting his father’s absurd demand. His first attempts resembled a flailing caterpillar trying—and failing—to flip over.

The gathered crowd watched in stunned silence, the absurdity of the moment quelling any remaining tension. One of the Xargian guards leaned toward a castle guard standing nearby. Just moments ago, they had been ready to cut each other down, but now the fight seemed like a distant memory. “He may be a prince,” the Xargian guard whispered, “but at least he’s equipped like a king.”

The castle guard stifled a laugh, his shoulders shaking.

Prince Xhiva arrived at the castle, his rotund figure jiggling with every step after what appeared to be a strenuous jog. Upon seeing the spectacle of his brother’s humiliation, he burst into laughter, his thick finger pointing at Xander while his other hand rested on his ample stomach, shaking with mirth.

King Xerxes’s sharp gaze cut through the commotion, settling on his youngest son. “Xhiva,” he called out, his voice commanding instant silence. “I trust the executions are proceeding as planned?”

The color drained from Xhiva’s face, his laughter dying in his throat. Fear crept over him like a cold shadow. Xerxes’s expression darkened further when Xhiva failed to respond. This was unusual—Xhiva always had something to say, some clever quip or excuse. The king’s voice dropped, icy and unforgiving. “Failure will not be tolerated.”

A bead of sweat rolled down Xhiva’s temple as he stammered an acknowledgment, his fear palpable. Without another word, he turned on his heel and hastily made his way back toward the city square, his steps quick despite his unwieldy frame.

King Xerxes shifted his attention to Dragon, the Xargian Guard commander. “Gather everyone tonight,” he ordered, his tone leaving no room for debate. “I expect a full report on what transpired here.”

With that, the king turned away, his regal presence sweeping through the courtyard like a storm. A procession of castle assistants and other dignitaries fell in step behind him, the chaotic scene gradually dissolving into a semblance of order. The bells, once an urgent cry of alarm, now fell silent, leaving only the echoes of authority in their wake.

Despite the humiliation, Xander gradually found his balance and managed to hand-walk all the way to his chambers. Stumbling into his room, he collapsed onto his bed, yanking a blanket over himself like a shield against the world.

His sister Xemena, still in the room, watched him with an amused smirk. Her sharp eyes assessed him as he fidgeted beneath the covers. “I take it you handled the situation, seeing as the chaos outside has quieted,” she remarked, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She turned to the window, the sunlight catching in her long, dark hair. “But not all battles can be won naked, brother.”

Xander groaned, his face buried in the pillow. “The shame! I’m never leaving this chamber again!”

Xemena chuckled, a melodic sound that only added to his misery.

Xemena leaned against the window, her tone light but tinged with a teasing edge. “Perhaps you should’ve joined Niles on his journey after all.”

Xander’s eyes flickered with genuine consideration, and for a moment, it seemed like he was entertaining the idea. This irked Xemena, who snapped, “Snap out of it!” She exhaled sharply, crossing her arms and looking elsewhere, clearly annoyed.

Breaking the silence, Xander tilted his head toward the intricately decorated ceiling and asked, “By the way, where’s your summoned champion?”

Xemena’s expression shifted to one of feigned innocence. Closing her eyes and clasping her hands together, she replied in a sweet, high-pitched voice, “Oh, I sent him to train with Bear of the Xargian Guard to improve his physique and weapon skills.” Her tone dropped slightly, a mischievous smirk playing on her lips. “I think Roy tagged along too. I’m sure they’re doing just fine.”

They were not fine.

Gustavus’s green hair clung to his face, dripping with sweat like a soaked mop. Clutching a wooden practice sword, he yelled, “I’m from a neutral country back in our wor—!”

Before he could finish, a booming voice interrupted him. “Parry this NEUTRAL STRIKE!” A massive soldier wearing a snarling bear-shaped helmet swung his practice sword with bone-shaking force. Gustavus let out a high-pitched scream, dodging wildly.

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Nearby, Roy lay sprawled on the ground, unmoving but oddly serene. He gazed at the sky with a vacant expression, muttering, “The weather’s so nice. Maybe we should have a picnic.”

“STAY WITH ME, ROY!” Gustavus shouted desperately, sweat flying as he whipped his head around to check on his comrade.

“Focus!” Bear roared, slamming his practice sword into Gustavus’s, sending it flying out of his hands. Without missing a beat, he barked his next command, “Time for a run. Start moving!”

“But we’re completely out of energy!” Gustavus protested, clutching his knees.

Bear’s steely gaze didn’t waver. “If you’ve got the energy to talk, you’ve got the energy to run.”

From the ground, Roy gave a feeble thumbs-up. “Yeah, Gus! You tell him!”

Bear’s sharp glare turned toward them both, his tone darkening. “Run now, or I’ll use my skill to motivate you.”

Roy perked up slightly, his usual humor bleeding through. “Motivation? Perfect! We could really use that!”

“Yeah!” Gustavus chimed in naively.

Bear’s lips curled into a toothy grin beneath his helmet. “As you wish.”

Before their eyes, Bear’s already massive form began to expand. Thick fur sprouted across his body as his arms swelled to monstrous proportions, his entire figure shifting into something half-human, half-beast. A primal, ice-cold growl rumbled from his chest as he loomed over the two hapless champions.

“The only problem,” Bear said, his voice guttural, “is that I’m hungry. I suggest you start running.”

Roy and Gustavus froze for half a heartbeat before screaming in unison, “RUN!”

With adrenaline coursing through their veins, they bolted at full speed. Behind them, Bear let out a deafening roar and launched into pursuit, his transformed frame moving with terrifying agility. What had begun as training now resembled a life-or-death chase, the kind of motivation no one wanted but couldn’t ignore.

At the Docks

The Flying Turnip was a flurry of activity as Niles and his party prepared to set sail. All that remained was the final delivery to the ship. Niles couldn’t shake the lingering doubt about whether their plan had worked.

From the distance, the local adventurers’ guild approached, pulling a wagon laden with boxes. One of the crates, conspicuously painted with green cabbages, caught Niles’s eye. The group moved briskly but not so hastily as to draw undue attention.

As they drew near, Polly lowered her hood, revealing her face. “We’ve got your delivery,” she said, signaling to her adventurers to start loading the supplies onto the ship.

Niles stepped forward to meet her. “Thank you, for everything.”

Polly smiled warmly. “That’s why you hired us.” Her gaze drifted toward the distant slums, where smoke from their burned guild hall still rose in defiance. She chuckled lightly. “We needed to renovate anyway.”

Niles returned her smile, his lips silent but his eyes speaking volumes of gratitude.

Once the adventurers finished unloading, they returned to the dock. Polly turned back to Niles. “Take care, Sir Niles,” she said with a touch of warmth. “We have one last surprise for you.” She nodded toward a burly man carrying a bouquet.

“Flowers!” the burly man said gruffly, handing Niles a carefully arranged bundle of blooms.

Polly stepped back. “We still have one last task to complete. Safe travels, Sir Niles.”

Niles hesitated, not ready to part just yet. Squeaky, his feathered familiar, fluttered onto his shoulder. Leaning in, Niles whispered something to the bird before sending it toward Polly.

Squeaky landed on her shoulder, chirping as Niles’s words echoed in her mind. Polly looked momentarily surprised, then thoughtful. Finally, she smiled. “It’s just a matter of gold,” she murmured. “For now, let’s stay in touch.” She gently scratched Squeaky’s head, eliciting a happy trill before the bird flew back to Niles.

Niles nodded and waved goodbye. Turning to the ship, he raised his voice. “Captain Veggieplank! We’re ready to set sail!”

The captain responded with a hearty, “Aye aye!”

Winston and Tesla worked quickly to pull up the anchor while Niles hauled in the gangplank. Soon, The Flying Turnip was gliding away from Xandria’s capital, setting course for Monster Island.

"What did you ask her?" Winston inquired, his curiosity piqued.

Niles smirked, a glint of mischief in his eyes. "Just how much it would cost to recruit her and her companions in the future. We’ll need capable people if we’re going to grow our kingdom!"

He radiated confidence, practically beaming with enthusiasm. Winston decided not to press further, shaking his head with a small smile.

Niles joined him and Tesla at the ship’s stern, where they gazed back at the city shrinking in the distance. “How are you guys feeling?” Niles asked, his excitement evident.

Winston shrugged. “A bit early to say.”

Tesla, however, grinned widely. “I’ve never been on a ship before. This journey already feels incredible!”

Niles nodded enthusiastically. “That’s the spirit!”

Winston shot them both a bemused look.

“Anyway,” Winston said, exhaling, “we’ve got the essentials: food, tools, kitchen utensils, a fishing net—”

Tesla cut in, “And a huge pot!”

Winston nodded. “It’s not enough for luxury, but it’ll cover our basic needs.”

Niles looked at Winston, his eyes almost tearful. “You’re such a reliable party member.”

Winston smiled. “Well, thank you. Oh, and we got some fish for Sque—”

Before he could finish, Squeaky darted to his shoulder, staring at him with wide, expectant eyes. Winston chuckled. “I’ll get you some.” He started toward the storage. “By the way, Felix wanted to speak with you.”

Niles’s face lit up. “He’s awake?”

Winston nodded.

Without hesitation, Niles made his way to the captain’s quarters—the only proper room on the ship apart from the cargo hold. Pushing open the creaky wooden door, he saw Felix resting on a modest bed, a damp cloth on his forehead.

Niles sat beside him, grinning. “Welcome to the cool gang!” After a brief pause, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

Felix’s voice was weak, but his determination showed. “The captain,” he began, “be careful around him.”

Niles leaned in. “Did your skill activate on him?”

Felix gave a faint nod. “Yes.”

Niles’s expression turned serious. Felix’s skill, the ability to discern whether someone leaned toward good or bad, had proven invaluable during the coup at the ball.

Felix drew a shaky breath. “Winston told me everything. Thank you, Sir Niles.”

Niles shook his head. “No need to thank me. It was the only humane thing to do.” He hesitated, then added, “But I haven’t heard your final decision yet. Would you like to join our party?”

A long silence followed before Felix whispered, “Yes.”

Niles smirked. “Just so you know, we’re heading to Monster Island.”

Felix managed a faint grin. “I’ll do whatever I can to keep the party safe.”

Niles nodded approvingly. “Rest now.” He dipped the cloth into a bowl of water, wrung it out, and placed it gently back on Felix’s forehead. Quietly, he left the room, closing the door with care.

Niles climbed the steps leading to the ship’s helm, where Captain Veggieplank was focused on navigating the waters.

“How long will it take to reach Monster Island?” Niles asked.

The captain scratched his stubbly white beard. “Depends on the weather, but I’d say about seven days.”

Niles nodded, a grin spreading across his face. “Great! Plenty of time for us to get to know each other better!”

Captain Veggieplank shot him a dry look, clearly unamused. “Being social isn’t part of the fare,” he grumbled, the tone of a sailor accustomed to solitude.

Niles nodded but leaned in slightly, his natural charisma kicking into gear. “The fare?” he echoed, activating his Earthly-sales-learned-skill, Mirror the Lead. Repeating the last word of what the other part is saying.

The captain grunted. “Aye, that’s right. Gold’s hard to come by these days, yarr.”

Niles tilted his head, encouraging him. “These days?”

“Aye,” the captain continued, steering the ship with a practiced hand. “The crown’s bleeding us dry with taxes. Feels like their hands are buried deep in my pockets!”

“Pockets?” Niles prompted, his tone feigning curiosity.

Veggieplank waved a calloused hand. “Can’t even afford decent clothes anymore! Wasn’t like this in the old days, I tell ye!”

Niles smirked, his hook baited. “The old days?”

That did it. The captain’s gruff demeanor softened as he launched into tales of his youth. He regaled Niles with stories of epic journeys, bitter betrayals, treasure hunts, and the years he spent stranded on a desolate island.

And so, the voyage began, filled not only with wind and waves but also with the captain’s vivid stories painting pictures of a world Niles had yet to fully explore.