The icy seawater felt like invisible chains, dragging Barron's limbs deeper into the abyss.
His frostbitten fingers clung desperately to a broken plank. Every breath was like swallowing shards of glass, but still, he refused to let go.
He knew—if he surrendered now, the sea would devour him in silence.
The wind howled, and waves battered the plank with deafening force. Overhead, the roiling black clouds loomed like cruel spectators, mocking the lone fugitive drifting through their domain.
His vision blurred, the cacophony around him faded, and in its place came fragments of memories—jagged, painful, and vivid.
It was the day he lost everything.
Barron had once been heir to a small pirate crew. His father, Captain Clyde, was a gentle man—an idealist in a world that had no mercy for such things.
"Strength should be used to protect, not to conquer," he often said. As a child, Barron had taken pride in those words, but in the end, they had become the very spark that ignited their downfall.
The Blackfin Alliance.
The most brutal and dominant pirate faction in the Abyssal Sea—no one rivaled their cruelty. Pillaging, slaughter, arson—they committed every atrocity imaginable.
Clyde had tried to avoid conflict through negotiation, even offering half of their territory in exchange for peace. But the Blackfin leader had answered his kindness with a cold sneer.
Barron would never forget that moment—his father collapsing on the deck, a blade driven through his chest, blood soaking the floor. His mother, the crew, all fell one by one. Their ship was reduced to ashes.
Barron had hidden in a compartment below deck, trembling and powerless to do anything but listen.
The flames lit his young, tear-streaked face. But beneath those tears, something else had begun to burn.
"Father's mercy killed him. My coldness will keep me alive."
Suddenly, Barron snapped out of the memory. Another wave slammed into him, nearly tearing the plank from his grasp. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to focus.
He couldn't die. Not here. Not yet.
He didn't know how long he'd drifted in that frigid ocean. Time had no meaning in the deep. Only when he heard the faint cry of a seabird in the distance did he realize—land was near.
The waves finally tossed him onto a barren shore.
He crawled onto the sand, soaked to the bone, trembling and wretched. His limbs were nearly frozen stiff, but the instinct to survive pushed him onward.
A faint beam of sunlight pierced the clouds and warmed his face. Barron lifted his head and scanned the coastline. It was an uninhabited island, thick with dense forest. Seabirds cried overhead.
Dragging his aching body, he limped into the trees. His stomach twisted with hunger, but he clenched his teeth and pressed on. He knew—on this island, he would have to rely on himself for food and water.
Soon, he stumbled upon a grove of fruit trees.
Clusters of orange-yellow fruit hung from their branches. He grabbed one and devoured it in seconds. Though the juice was sour and sharp, it eased the gnawing emptiness inside him.
Deeper in the forest, he discovered a clear spring.
Dropping to his knees, he scooped the cool water into his mouth, drinking greedily. Then he splashed some onto his face, his damp, curled black hair clinging to his forehead.
He lifted his head and saw his reflection in the water—storm-gray eyes like dim stars in the night sky, sharp and calculating.
A shallow scar marked his right cheek, adding a dangerous edge to his otherwise striking features.
Tall and lean, broad-shouldered, his long coat clung to his back from moisture, highlighting his toned frame. Yet the wounds and filth clinging to him made him scoff under his breath.
"You're still alive, Barron."
After a night of rest, he began exploring more of the island.
Deep in the forest, he found a hidden cave and claimed it as a temporary shelter. Using the resources around him, he crafted rudimentary tools—sharpened spears and makeshift containers for water.
That evening, he sat by a fire, gripping the wooden spear, eyes fixed on the dancing flames.
"Blackfin Alliance… Just wait."
His words rang out like an oath, swallowed by the quiet of the night.
By morning, Barron began hunting. He set a simple trap near the spring, baited with fruit. Sure enough, a small wild boar fell into it.
His movements were clumsy, but he managed to drive the spear into its side and bring it down.
He skinned the creature, roasted the meat over his fire, and devoured it. The aroma alone was enough to make his stomach rumble. It was a crude meal, but it filled him with strength.
He ground the boar's bones into sharp tools—preparing himself for the days ahead.
Just as he was deciding on his next move, a faint groan echoed from deeper within the forest.
Alert, Barron snatched up his spear and followed the sound cautiously.
Behind a thicket, he found a man lying on the ground—clothes torn, body covered in wounds. A deep gash marred his chest. The man looked barely conscious, as if he'd long given up hope.
Barron didn't lower his weapon. He stared coldly at the man, eyes unblinking.
"Who are you?" His voice was calm, but laced with a pressure that demanded an answer.
The man lifted his head with difficulty, his eyes glassy. Still, he managed to rasp out a reply.
"I… I was being hunted by the Blackfin Alliance…"
At the mention of those words, Barron's eyes turned even colder. He stepped forward, spear still raised, and pointed it at the man's chest.
"Why are they after you?"
The man coughed, wheezing. "I… I used to be one of their smugglers. A squad leader. But I tried to escape… They found out…"
Barron didn't respond right away. His gaze sharpened.
"What can you offer me?"
Fear flickered in the man's eyes. He understood—the youth before him, though alone and young, carried a killing intent sharper than any blade.
"I… I know their secret routes… and some of their outposts in the Abyssal Sea," the man said weakly, desperation in every word.
Barron paused, then finally lowered the spear. His eyes were still wary. He pulled a torn cloth from his belt and wrapped it around the man's chest to slow the bleeding.
"If you lie to me, I'll kill you myself."
The man nodded quickly, sweat beading on his brow.
"Then start talking."