Morning cast its first timid rays on Suisei, and with it began a new page in the lives of those who sailed its seas. On that day, Katsuragi, King of Yōkawa, cut through the open water, steering seven proud warships on a southwesterly tack. Each vessel boasted bright sails and fierce emblems, but none matched the glory of Katsuragi’s own flagship. Painted azure like the summer sea, it bore the towering figurehead of a great sea wyrm, gold-plated scales overlapping in a majestic flourish. Seventy-five elite Yōkawa warriors manned her decks, each wearing glittering mail and carrying swords or poleaxes. Their shields, bearing bold personal crests, hung along the bulwarks.

At the high stern stood Katsuragi himself (Lv 47 Storm King), thick-muscled hands clutching the steering paddle. Sunlight glanced off his bronze complexion, accentuating a strong jaw, a slight hook to his nose, and keen dark eyes that hinted at bottomless energy. He wore a Tyrian-purple tunic, plus golden wristlets woven in intricate loops. Nothing about him suggested rest or quiet reflection; he exuded a relentless vitality, like a stag on an autumn morning, fueled by the wind and the promise of new horizons. Beside him stood Teshimaru (Lv 31 Sea Skipper), a broad-shouldered sailor with a short beard. His skill [Master Navigator (Rank B)] kept them on course even in uncertain currents.

Katsuragi raised his voice, which carried over the sea breeze. “Tell me, Teshimaru. You ever see a sight finer than a warship charging forward like a queen at court, scattering the foam in glittering arcs from her prow?”

The skipper flashed a grin. “Never, my lord. Though if you’re asking for the second and third wonders, I’d wager they’re sights you haven’t yet told me.”

Katsuragi’s grin broadened, revealing dazzling white teeth. “One I missed yesterday: news that Lord Kinryu battered King Goritsu XI. That must have been a duel for the ages. The third?” He hesitated, glancing at the horizon. “I’d guess it’s the wedding in Zae Zakuro, once Kinryu weds my young cousin, the pride of Yōkawa.”

Teshimaru nodded. “You’re a lucky man, Katsuragi. Alliances with Onikawa bring peace and power. Everyone calls that princess the very mirror of beauty.”

Katsuragi’s voice lowered, intensity creeping in. “Yes, the day can’t come soon enough. Demons—pardon me, Oni—have saved my throne more times than I can count. That kind of debt weighs heavy. But…there’s more. I’m itching for real conquest, Teshimaru, something that’ll leave a mark on Suisei like the Oni did when they rid the land of the Yurei. It’s time Yōkawa made its next bold move.”

He broke off suddenly, attention snapped southward by Teshimaru’s urgent whisper. “Something’s off, my lord. Look there.”

They spotted a single warship drifting as though stunned, sails half in tatters. Her rowers made only feeble strokes, staving off an aimless drift. Char and soot marred her once-proud timbers. Mast and forecastle stood battered, and an acrid blackness clung to the wreckage.

Katsuragi steered toward her. The mood aboard changed, men gripping their weapons. As they drew close, the battered ship’s name remained unclear, but soon Katsuragi made out familiar faces among the Oni on deck. He froze at the sight of three lords he recognized: Lord Jūsō (Lv 55 Oni Warlord), Lord Homura (Lv 52 Flame Champion), and Lord Daigo (Lv 53 Sword Dancer). Yet what overcame him most was their dismal, haunted demeanor. Their party, once unstoppable, stood blackened with soot, all sense of triumph snuffed out.

When they brought Katsuragi’s flagship alongside, he leapt aboard the crippled vessel and climbed to what remained of the poop deck. Haruto Watanabe stood quietly at the rail of Katsuragi’s ship, [System] flickering faintly around him, offering no class, no skill readout, just the echo of faraway possibilities. He watched in silence as Katsuragi confronted the Oni lords.

“Lord Jūsō.” Katsuragi spoke softly, alarm etched on his face. “Tell me. What happened here?”

Jūsō’s eyes glistened with unfamiliar grief. Twice he tried to speak, but words refused to form. The Oni leader sank onto the charred remains of the deck, burying his face in his hands. “Katsuragi,” he managed at last, voice trembling, “nothing in the world is mine anymore, not since they tore my brother from me. Not just a brother. Kinryu was…my heart, my strength. My kingdom’s soul.”

Katsuragi felt Jūsō’s powerful grip clenching his rings so tight it bruised his fingers. But no pain equaled the horror that must have befallen these proud Oni. All around them, battered warriors wept, some staring blankly at the ravaged sea. Katsuragi understood this was no ordinary maritime accident.

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He gently questioned them, coaxing halting fragments of the story: that dawn two days past, a monstrous sound like colossal wings overshadowed the sky. The sea had convulsed, roaring as if all waters crashed in a single moment. An unnatural tempest battered their ship, yet somehow left them afloat, though ruined. When calm returned, only three of the Oni lords remained where once four had stood: Lord Kinryu was gone without a trace.

Jūsō’s voice caught. “Goritsu…He’s conjured something. We all heard the rumors—King Goritsu XII, a sorcerer without peer. This must be his vengeance for what we did to Majokawa in the Takuma Isles. Kinryu was singled out by that fell magic. We can’t even guess where they’ve taken him.”

Homura ground his teeth, sparks faintly flickering at his breath. “He’s out there. I’ll chase him into every corner of Suisei if I have to.”

But Jūsō shook his head. “Where do we start, cousin? The oceans’ depths? The starry void? We can’t know.”

Katsuragi steeled himself, voice low and urgent. “My guess is Kasei. For centuries, that fortress has been the seat of Majokawa’s darkest deeds. If King Goritsu wants to torment Kinryu, I’d wager that’s where he’d do it.”

Jūsō gave no immediate answer, and Homura’s eyes blazed with silent fury. Daigo paced restlessly, his sword rattling in its sheath. Finally, Jūsō found words. “You’re not wrong. But Kasei’s a fortress beyond any normal siege, especially with only your handful of ships. Let me be sure: you propose we sail straight there and burn it to the ground?”

Katsuragi’s grin was wolfish. “If you’ll have me. I’ve got near five hundred men who’d love to see Majokawa cower. That’s more than enough to catch them off guard. Laxus—the best sea commander they’ve got—sailed east with forty ships to raid the Beshtrian coastline, so Kasei might be nearly empty. If the two of us strike now, we might end this quicker than you think.”

Jūsō’s eyes narrowed, torn by sorrow. “Katsuragi, my friend…you’re generous. But Majokawa is cunning. They’ll have devils aplenty behind those walls. This can’t be a casual smash-and-grab.”

Behind him, Homura shot a scowl that practically screamed betrayal. “You’d sooner walk away from a chance like this? We’re done crawling in the dark, Jūsō. We have to do something.”

In that moment, Daigo stilled his pacing. “I’m with Homura—this inaction is eating me alive. We’re Oni, not mice. If our brother’s in Kasei, we tear down Kasei. Simple equation. Or do we just go home and…water the daisies?”

Jūsō rubbed a hand across his brow. “Enough. You’re not mice, nor am I. But we cannot rely on Yōkawa’s forces alone to topple Kasei. Not to mention we don’t truly know if Kinryu’s even there.” His voice trembled with anguish. “I can’t risk the entire realm of Onikawa on a guess. Not yet.”

A hush fell. Katsuragi caught the furious glances from Homura and Daigo. A single slip in leadership might break this alliance. But then Jūsō’s gaze flicked toward the wreckage of their once-proud vessel, the men groaning from wounds still fresh. He took a breath.

“Here’s what we do,” Jūsō said at last. “We can’t charge half-cocked. One of us has to sail home—rally a proper fleet, raise Onikawa to war. Then we’ll storm Majokawa with our full might.” He paused. “We draw lots. Whoever loses must take our battered ship back to Onikawa. The rest of us sail with Katsuragi for Kasei—scout the place, see if it really stands half-empty. Perhaps we do find our brother caged inside.”

No one looked pleased with a plan that forced them to part ways. But the Oni lord was resolute. They removed signet rings, each marking one, and dropped them in Katsuragi’s helm. He shook them. Homura, Daigo, Jūsō—three glittering tokens. The one that tumbled free was Homura’s. Homura hissed in frustration but stifled it, set in his duty.

“It’s decided,” Jūsō said, softly. “Homura, you gather a thousand Oni if you can, maybe two thousand. Build new ships. Suisei’s about to see war like none since the Yurei. Katsuragi and I will be waiting to strike from Kasei’s doorstep, or at least find out if Kinryu’s truly there.”

Homura bowed stiffly, glaring at no one in particular, as though furious at fate itself. “So be it. I’ll come with an army that’ll shake Suisei.”

They exchanged gear, transferring men from the battered Oni ship to one of Katsuragi’s better vessels, leaving Homura to limp west under a patched-up sail. Meanwhile, Jūsō and Daigo joined Katsuragi’s own dragon-headed flagship. Their few uninjured Oni fighters boarded with stoic determination, some checking that the [System] displayed incremental XP for surviving the dread sending. As Haruto Watanabe hovered in the background, he noticed a faint window appear:

[Homura gains +200 XP for accepting the Burden of Command.]

Once the sails were unfurled, Katsuragi’s warship swung east, followed by six others, their bright banners snapping in the salt wind. The parted waves gleamed under them like a promise of vengeance, forging a new campaign that might overturn Majokawa’s illusions of safety. Far astern, the Oni vessel bearing Homura inched away, battered but unbroken. Shadows grew on Suisei’s horizon as the two forces set off on their divergent paths—one to gather strength, the other to gamble it all on an audacious attack.

And in the midst of it all, Haruto watched from the deck rail, silent, untested, and overshadowed by champions of legend. He felt the tension, the heartbreak, the raw thirst for retribution. The story had become a war saga around him, and though he had yet to discover his own class or special skills, the path ahead lay open, fraught with peril. He closed his eyes against the swirling wind, wondering how long he would remain a mere bystander in this land of Oni lords, Storm Kings, and conjured terrors. The wind offered no answer, only the rolling sea beneath a sky that promised storms yet to come.