"Let's set sail to Emka," Orimo commanded, his eyes glinting with purpose.
The ship cut through the dark, restless waters, moonlight glinting off the waves like shards of silver. The Devil Pirates moved onward, leaving the smoldering ruins of the island behind as the sea swallowed the chaos, waves whispering against the hull like the world itself was holding its breath.
The destination: Emka Island, where awaited one of the true conquerors—Morgan Tarek.
The scene shifted. Morgan Tarek reclined in a grand chair, one leg casually crossed over the other, sipping tea with deliberate calm. Black glasses shielded his eyes, but the sharp tilt of his jaw spoke of authority.
A man stepped silently to his side, leaning close to whisper:
"Our factory has been taken down."
Morgan's expression darkened, the calm façade snapping like glass. His fingers clenched around the cup as he hissed,
"Orimo Kuzan… this will be your graveyard."
Meanwhile, across the seas at the Navy Headquarters, Uruma Nithel worked meticulously on his documents. The warm aroma of coffee curled around him as he sipped, savoring the moment.
"The collapse of Dravon Solmere and Kenny Ashveil's meeting… actually good news," he murmured, eyes scanning the pages.
Narration:
The encounter had erupted into a brutal clash between two true conquerors, leaving both sides with heavy casualties. No alliance had been formed—only the bitter taste of conflict lingered.