The clash of fists and steel echoed across the entire island, shaking the air like distant thunder.
The Seven Seraph Admirals remained watching atop the fortress towers, still and silent, while below them the navy soldiers and Tremor Pirates tore into each other in a raging battlefield.
A navy scout sprinted up the command stairway, breath broken, sweat spilling down his neck.
Uruma: What's wrong!?
The scout's voice cracked.
Scout: It's the Ashveil Pirates Fleet.
Uruma's eyes widened.
Uruma: What the hell!?
Scout: They're about to hit the shore... now.
A long, heavy silence.
Then a voice — smooth, calm, and horribly confident — cut through the chaos.
Seraphel Dawn: Don't panic. For I am here.
Uruma didn't respond at first.
His jaw tightened.
Uruma (quietly): The odds might turn against us at any moment...
The sea surged.
BOOOOM.
A wave crashed as the Ashveil Pirate Fleet slammed into the coastline.
Black sails. Razor shapes. A presence like a storm swallowing light.
They began to step onto the shore.
And then — him.
Ashveil Kenny stepped forward on the ship's deck, wind carrying his coat behind him like a banner of war.
Kenny (soft, almost smiling):
I've been waiting years for this exact moment.
He dropped from the deck, landing on the ground with a quiet thud —
yet somehow the entire battlefield felt it.
Arata turned his head, just slightly.
No emotion. No surprise. Just acknowledgement between titans.
Arata:
Didn't know you would be here too.