14 May 765X
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đ Chapter: Fire Before Shore
The sea was calmer than Yaman had expected.
After escaping the chaos of Vulcanus, he had thought the ocean would be another battlefield, another place trying to swallow him whole. But instead, it stretched endlessly under the morning sky, calm⊠almost peaceful.
This bothered him.
---
It had been a little over a week since they had left the island.
A week and a half of nothing but water and wind⊠and people he couldn't stand.
---
Yaman leaned against the wooden railing, staring at the distant horizon.
Far away on the horizon, barely visibleâ
Land.
-
"So this is Hargon's Harbor..." he muttered.
A new place.
A new beginning.
A magic guild.
-
His concentration sharpened.
-
Behind him, laughter echoed across the deck.
Nobles.
Still eating, still grumbling, still acting as if the world wasn't on the brink of burning.
-
"Tch..."
---
Among themâ
A loud, familiar voice.
Eren.
Ragnar's daughter.
-
Arguing over something trivial, she gestured dramatically as servants scrambled around her. For someone who had almost lost everything, she recovered quickly.
Too quickly.
---
Yaman looked away.
He didn't care.
--
Thenâ
A deafening scream pierced the air.
-
Not the kind of scream you hear from fake humans.
A real scream.
-
Yaman turned suddenly toward the source of the sound.
His body tensed instantly.
-
Another scream followed.
Thenâ
An explosion.
-
The ship shook violently as something slammed into its side. The wood cracked, the ropes snapped, and the iron hooks dug into the railings.
Another ship had rammed into them.
-
"Pirates!!"
-
Chaos erupted.
-
Men armed with swords and primitive weapons stormed the deck, laughing as if it were all a game.
The sailors scrambled to defend themselves.
The nobles panicked.
Some ran.
Some froze in place.
--
Yaman didn't move.
Not yet.
-
His eyes scanned everything.
Quickly.
Instinctively.
-
Too many.
Too noisy.
No formation.
-
"They're reckless..." he muttered.
--
Two pirates charged at him.
Yaman moved immediately.
--
He ducked under the blowâ
Too late to thinkâ
Then he landed a powerful punch to the man's stomach.
--
The pirate coughed and fell to the ground.
--
Another blow came from the side.
Yaman blocked it at the last second.
The blade grazed his arm.
--
"Tch!"
---
He kicked the man back, his breath growing heavier.
--
That wasn't clean.
That wasn't control.
--
But he was adapting.
--
Thenâ
A voice.
--
"Let me go!!"
--
Yaman's eyes darted around.
--
Eren.
--
Two pirates grabbed her and dragged her across the deck as she struggled fiercely.
One of them laughed.
"This is worth a fortune!"
--
Yaman clicked his tongue.
--
Move.
--
No plan.
No strategy.
--
Just speed.
---
A pirate tried to block his pathâ
Yaman rammed him head-on, knocking him to the ground, and rained blows on him without hesitation.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
---
He got up immediately.
He didn't even turn around.
---
Two more pirates charged forwardâ
Yaman grabbed a slack rope and swung it wildly, forcing the man to back away slightlyâ
Then he closed the distance.
---
A punch.
A knee.
A shove.
---
Chaos.
But it worked.
---
The two pirates who were now holding Eren noticed.
"Hey, kid, get offâ!"
---
It was too late.
---
Yaman lunged forward and rammed into the first pirate, sending him flying across the deck.
The second pirate tried to pull Eren awayâ
---
She bit his arm.
Hard.
---
"Ouch!"
---
That momentâ
Was enough.
---
Yaman shoved his shoulder hard, knocking him off balance, then delivered a powerful punch to his face.
---
The man fell to the ground.
--
Eren stumbled, panting.
"...Yaman...?"
--
He didn't answer.
--
"Get away," he said sharply.
--
More pirates were coming.
--
Yaman took another step forward.
This timeâ
His eyes flashed with anger.
--
A faint spark of heat gathered around his fist.
Out of control.
Unstable.
--
But dangerous.
--
He swayed.
--
The collision sent two pirates crashing into each other.
--
The deck shook with the chaos.
--
On the other side of the ship, Captain Harold watched.
Silently.
Warningly.
--
"That boy..." he muttered.
--
Yaman wasn't fighting like a trained warrior.
-
He was fighting like a savage beast.
-
Unpolished.
Uncivilized.
-
Butâ
---
He was learning.
In real time.
--
Adapting every second.
--
One by one, the pirates began to retreat.
--
"This isn't worth it!"
"Retreat!"
---
They retreated to their ship, dragging the wounded with them, then cut the ropes and sailed away.
--
Silence gradually returned.
--
The sea calmed again.
As if nothing had happened.
His fists were swollen.
-
But he didn't fall.
-
From behind him, Erin stared.
Not arrogantly this time.
-
Something else.
-
"...you're crazy," she whispered.
-
Yaman scoffed.
"...you talk too much for Noble girl "
-
Harold moved closer.
His gaze lingered on Yaman for a moment longer than usual.
-
"...you rushed in. It was reckless."
-
Yaman shrugged.
"...they were blocking the way."
-
Silence.
-
Harold crossed his arms.
"...and yet, you survived."
-
Yaman smiled faintly.
--
"...of course I did. It's too early for me to die."
--
Harold looked toward the horizon.
The harbor was closer now.
Clear.
Within reach.
-
"...If you continue like this," he said quietly, "you will die."
-
Yaman didn't reply.
-
"...But," Harold added, looking at him again,
"If you learn...right..."
---
A faint, almost mocking smile appeared.
---
"You could become something terrifying."
---
Yaman narrowed his eyes
I " I hope to become in order to not lose
---
The ship sailed onward.
---
Toward Hargon Harbor.
---
Toward a future neither of them fully understood.
---
đ Door: A Name Carved in Ashes
The harbor was drowning in noise.
Voices overlapped, footsteps collided, and the sharp cries of dockworkers echoed across the sea as ships lined up in the harbor one after another. The news had spread faster than the wind itselfâ
Vulcanus had fallen.
And everyone wanted to see survivors.
---
By the time the ship docked in Hargon Harbor, the docks were already crowded. Merchants, officials, sailors⊠even ordinary people had gathered, their eyes searching, curious, and thirsty for stories.
Of the tragedy.
---
Yaman went aboard the dock with the rest of the crew.
Not as survivors.
But as a worker.
--
"Watch out for that box!"
"Move, move! Hurry!"
-
The orders were hurled like stones.
And he obeyed.
-
He lifted.
He carried.
He stacked.
-
Again.
And again.
-
One by one, the nobles descended, seemingly oblivious to the order. Their belongings were treated with greater care than those of the ones who had lost everything. The carriages awaited them, polished and ready, as if the world hadn't burned behind them.
-
Yaman watched.
Silently.
-
The way they spoke.
The way they moved.
The way the others lowered their heads around them.
-
A different world.
A world he didn't understand.
--
And yetâ
He kept working.
-
From morningâŠ
Until the sun began to set on the horizon.
--
When the work was finished, his body ached in ways he didn't bother to acknowledge.
The pain was familiar.
-
He washed.
He changed his clothes.
-
A black shirt.
A black jacket.
Black shorts.
Black shoes.
-
He pulled his hood over his head.
He carried a small, light, practical bag.
Everything he needed.
Nothing more.
-
Nothing that belonged to him.
-
Without saying a wordâ
He left the ship.
-
The sea beside him shimmered in the fading sunlight, its waves reflecting the sky in orange and gold streaks. The world seemed⊠calm.
Too calm.
--
"...So, this is where it ends," he muttered.
--
"And you leave like this, without a goodbye or a word of thanks?"
--
Yaman paused.
--
He didn't need to turn around.
He already knew.
--
Captain Harold stood a few steps behind him, arms crossed, his gaze unwavering.
--
"...Thank you for everything," Yaman said.
"I'm leaving."
--
Harold sighed deeply.
"...You really are a pain."
--
He didn't reply.
--
Harold shook his head, then chuckled.
"You know...there will come a day when women suffer because of you."
--
A faint smile touched Yaman's lips.
"...Is that supposed to mean anything?"
--
He glanced over his shoulder.
"Then why are you still Single?"
--
He was silent.
--
Then Harold laughedâa genuine laugh this time.
--
"...Yes. He's his son, of course." --
That wordâ
His son.
-
Yaman's fingers trembled slightly.
-
Harold reached for his coat.
He pulled out a folded newspaper.
-
"Take it."
-
Yaman didn't hesitate.
He took it nimbly.
He unfolded itâ
---
And froze.
-
The world around him seemed still.
-
Thereâ
On the front pageâ
A face.
-
His father.
-
Next to it, a picture of Vulcan.
Not the island he rememberedâ
But a tomb of ash and fire.
-
And beneath itâ
A symbol.
The sign of Cerberus.
-
Yaman's grip tightened.
His eyes moved across the pageâ
He tried.
He was forced.
-
Nothing.
--
The words refused to be understood.
They flowed from his mind like water.
-
His breathing slowed.
-
"...What are you saying?"
-
Silence.
-
Yaman didn't raise his head.
-
"...Read it to me."
-
His voice was even lower now.
Tense.
-
"...Please."
-
That wordâ
It wasn't his.
--
Harold stared at him.
Longer than before.
--
"...Were you really going to come into this world like this?"
--
No anger.
No sarcasm.
--
Just...the truth.
--
"Unable to read. Unable to understand. Unable to see what's written right in front of you."
--
Each word was heavier than the last.
---
"And you think strength will be enough?"
---
Yaman's jaw tightened.
---
"...I don't needâ"
---
"Yes, you do."
---
The interruption was immediate.
Sharp.
---
"For once," Harold said quietly,
"Stop pretending you don't need to."
---
Silence fell.
---
The sea moved gently behind them.
---
Yaman clenched his fists.
---
He hated this feeling.
The feeling.
---
Not weakness.
---
More like...an inferiority complex.
---
"...So what do I do?" he asked.
---
Harold's gaze softened slightly.
---
"How old are you?"
---
"...Ten years old."
---
He exhaled softly.
--
"...a child standing on the precipice of a world capable of crushing men."
-
He took a step closer.
-
"Stay."
-
Yaman didn't move.
-
"At least a year and a half."
-
The words settled between them.
---
"I will teach you," Harold continued.
"Your language first. Reading. Writing."
"Then the language of the Kingdom of Fiore."
"Numbers. History. How things work in this world."
---
A pause.
---
"Then⊠you can decide how you want to live in it."
---
The wind passed between them.
Carrying the distant noise of the harbor.
---
Yaman lowered his head.
Thinking.
---
If I go nowâŠ
I'll fight.
I'll survive.
---
âŠMaybe.
---
But what if I loseâŠ
Because I didn't understand something simple?
---
His grip on the newspaper tightened.
---
"âŠA year and a halfâŠ"
---
Time.
---
It sounded long.
---
But compared to everything he had lostâ
It was nothing.
---
He exhaled slowly.
---
"...Fine."
---
Harold smiled.
Not wide.
But real.
---
"Good."
---
Yaman lifted the newspaper again.
This timeâ
He didn't pretend.
---
"âŠRead it."
---
Harold fully unfolded it.
His voice is steady now.
---
"The destruction of Vulcanus..."
---
A pause.
---
"âŠand the fall of the Cerberus guild..."
---
His eyes shifted briefly towards Yaman.
---
"âŠat the hands of the Magic Council's knightâŠ"
---
"âŠthe Dark KingâFernando Ignis."
---
Silence.
---
Yaman's breath hitched.
---
Harold continued.
Reading every line.
Every detail.
---
The battle.
The destruction.
The sacrifice.
---
The man who stood aloneâ
And it did not fall.
---
The article didn't speak of fear.
It spoke of legend.
---
Of a man who faced darknessâŠ
And something became greater.
---
Yaman lowered his head.
---
"âŠHe really did itâŠ"
---
Harold folded the paper slowly.
---
"Your father carved his name into this world."
---
He looked at him.
---
"You don't get to ignore that."
---
For a momentâ
Yaman tried to stay silent.
---
Tried to hold it in.
---
But something broke.
---
Tears fell.
---
Quiet.
Heavy.
Unstoppable.
---
Not weak.
---
Never that.
---
But something deeper.
---
"âŠI hated him," Yaman whispered.
---
The words slipped out before he could stop them.
---
"He was never there."
---
His voice shook.
---
"âŠAlways fighting. Always gone."
---
His hands are slightly trembled.
---
"âŠAnd nowâ"
---
He stopped.
---
"...Now I can't even tell him..."
---
Silence.
---
Harold said nothing.
---
There was nothing to say.
---
The sun disappeared beneath the horizon.
Darkness slowly taking its place.
---
Yaman stood there.
Tears drying under the evening wind.
---
And for the first timeâ
He didn't feel like running forward.
---
He felt likeâŠ
Understanding.
---
And at that momentâ
The boy who chased strength blindlyâŠ
Took his first step towards something greater. transfor