Chapter 3: Strength
"Good morning, Nico!"
"Good morning, darling~"
That one word—darling—was enough to jolt Eiger awake.
He'd barely finished yawning before the memories of last night came rushing back—
that so-called "engagement banquet" which had felt suspiciously like a wedding.
Now, as he stared at the woman bustling around his kitchen, he froze in place again.
"Breakfast will be ready soon," Nico said warmly, her back to him as she flipped something in the pan. "Why don't you freshen up first?"
"Uh—yeah. Right. Sure."
Her voice was calm and melodic, but it made Eiger feel strangely self-conscious.
Still half dazed, he wandered off to wash up, muttering to himself the whole time.
When he returned, the smell of toasted bread and fruit jam filled the air.
Nico was humming softly, a faint smile playing on her lips as she set two plates on the table.
Something about this… felt off.
Peaceful, yes. Pleasant, even.
But also—utterly surreal.
"What's wrong, dear?"
Eiger blinked. She had noticed him staring.
As she looked at him with curious eyes, she shyly spread jam on a slice of bread and offered it to him.
"Do I have something on my face? Why are you looking at me like that?"
"…Nothing."
He managed a smile as he took the bread. "You're just… beautiful, that's all."
He hadn't lied.
She was beautiful—graceful and composed, with a soft, natural charm.
And when she'd called him darling earlier, he almost regretted not saying yes to the village chief's "wedding" idea last night.
At his compliment, a faint blush bloomed across Nico's cheeks.
Her shy smile carried both warmth and relief, and that tiny reaction eased something inside Eiger's chest.
After all, the real Devil's Child wouldn't blush over something like that.
"By the way," he said as he bit into his bread, "I'll be heading out to train in a bit. If there's anything you need, I can bring it back. Or, you can go into the village yourself if you like."
"Hmm… things we need?" Nico tilted her head thoughtfully. Then, without the slightest trace of embarrassment—as if she'd already accepted her role as his fiancée—she said, "I noticed the kitchen's running out of vegetables. We'll also need some seasonings and maybe some seeds so we can grow our own."
She winked playfully. "Oh, and if possible, could you make me a big wooden tub? I really enjoy taking baths."
Eiger chuckled. "Got it."
Finishing his meal, he gathered the dishes and set them aside. Then, slinging his one-handed axe over his shoulder, he stepped toward the door.
"I'll be off, then."
"Okay. Don't get hurt—and come back early, darling!"
Her cheerful voice followed him as he left.
Eiger couldn't help smiling as he headed down the dirt path toward the back mountain.
Maybe… maybe settling down like this wasn't so bad after all.
A wife, a quiet home, a simple life—no more battles, no more ambition.
Just peace.
Or so he thought—until a familiar, teasing voice cut through the morning air.
"Well, well! Up bright and early, are we, boy? Still got enough energy to head to the mountain, huh?"
Eiger sighed and turned around. "Morning, Chief Marin."
The old man was strolling lazily down the path, hands clasped behind his back, grinning like a fox.
Ignoring Eiger's greeting, Marin circled him twice, scrutinizing him from head to toe before shaking his head with a long, disappointed sigh.
"What's that look for?" Eiger frowned, confused.
"You…" Marin muttered, hunching slightly as he looked up at him, "weren't you supposed to get married? You telling me a fine young man like you can't appreciate a woman that beautiful? What are you waiting for—a noblewoman to fall from the sky?"
"I was planning to get married," Eiger said helplessly. "Just… not so suddenly."
He sighed again, resting the axe on his shoulder.
Truth be told, after fifteen years of struggling in the Navy and getting nowhere, he'd already given up on conquering the seas.
Now, he just wanted to live quietly—to build a life in Sibia Village, maybe raise a family.
But still…
As he gazed toward the distant mountains, a shadow crossed his face.
There was something restless deep inside him.
A dull ember that refused to die, no matter how long he tried to smother it.
The world was vast. The seas even more so.
And no matter how peaceful the village felt—
—Eiger knew strength still mattered.
Because peace… only lasted as long as you were strong enough to protect it.
Eiger paused for a moment, his expression turning serious.
"Chief Marin," he said slowly, "when Nico washed ashore… did she have anything else with her?"
"Anything else?" Marin frowned and scratched his chin, thinking for a moment before shaking his head.
"No, nothing that I remember. Why, is something wrong?"
"Nothing," Eiger replied, his tone even. "Actually, it's better that way."
The old man looked like he wanted to say more, but Eiger shifted the topic.
"Anyway, the village should still have some vegetables, right? I'll need some later. Get me a few, along with some seasoning. And…" —he paused briefly, a faint smile tugging at his lips— "a large wooden bath barrel, if there's a good one around."
"Vegetables are no problem," Marin said, nodding thoughtfully. "But seasonings and a good bath barrel… not sure if the village has any left."
He suddenly slapped his forehead. "Ah! I almost forgot—this afternoon, a merchant ship's docking at the Sibia River Islands. You might find what you need there."
"A merchant ship today?" Eiger raised an eyebrow in mild surprise.
The Sibia Village sat along the winding rivers of the Sibia Archipelago in the West Blue.
The river was the island's lifeline—its only source of fresh water and a crucial link between the small surrounding islets.
Though technically under the jurisdiction of the 315th Marine Branch, the archipelago was far from any major nation, and its economy was little more than subsistence-level.
Most supplies—tools, spices, even clothing—came from the few merchant ships that passed by every couple of weeks.
"Got it," Eiger said with a nod. "I'll take Nico there later."
With that, he waved casually, hefted his single-handed axe onto his shoulder, and started toward the forested slopes behind the village.
Marin watched him go, smirking to himself.
"Hmph, that brat," he muttered under his breath, hands clasped behind his back as he strolled home. "Keeps insisting he's not interested, but look at him—already acting like a husband. Guess Tok can finally sleep easy now."
He hummed a little tune as he walked, but after a few steps, something clicked in his mind.
"Wait a minute…" he murmured, stopping mid-step. "Now that I think of it, there were a few books that washed ashore with her… ah, whatever. Just some old books. I'll bring it up next time."
Whistling again, he continued down the path toward the village.
---
Meanwhile, Eiger had reached the back mountain—and almost immediately found his target.
A tiger.
But not just any tiger.
The creature stood as tall as an elephant, muscles bulging under its striped fur, with a pair of long, wicked fangs protruding from its jaws.
Eiger didn't rush in.
Instead, he set down his pack and pulled off his shirt, letting the sunlight pour over his sculpted frame. His hand gripped the haft of his axe, the steel edge gleaming faintly.
The air shifted.
His presence changed—his body still, his eyes cold, his expression carved in stone.
Even the beast sensed it.
The massive tiger growled low, crouching slightly, the earth trembling under its weight.
Its golden eyes locked onto the man before it, a predator recognizing another predator.
Eiger inhaled deeply.
The muscles along his torso tightened, his waist twisting slightly to the right. The hand holding the axe drew back behind him, coiling like a drawn bow.
For a heartbeat, the world seemed to hold still.
Then—
He moved.
The motion was fluid yet explosive, his body uncoiling with terrifying precision.
The axe swung forward, slicing through the air with a whistle that cracked like thunder.
A surge of raw, concentrated force burst from his body, shaking the leaves in the trees above.
"Micro-Dust Slash!"
His deep voice echoed through the mountains.
The arc of the strike ripped through the air—
a massive, gleaming wave of power that split the earth beneath it, roaring straight toward the tiger like a blade made of pure killing intent.
Everything in its path—grass, stone, branches—was shredded to dust.
And as the light of the slash faded, Eiger stood motionless amid the silence, the axe resting at his side, the air still humming with the echo of his strike.
The ground before him bore a single, deep trench stretching dozens of meters long.
He exhaled slowly.
"Still… not enough," he murmured, eyes calm but distant.
That strike—his strongest technique, the culmination of fifteen years of blood, sweat, and frustration—
was powerful enough to slay beasts, split boulders, and terrify ordinary men.
But to the world beyond this island—
to those monsters who ruled the seas—
…it was still just a drop in the ocean.