Morning in Namiara came with the subtle grace of a punch to the face.
Raiyo woke up sprawled across a tavern bench, cheek stuck to the wood, mouth dry, and arm throbbing like someone had installed a drum set in his bones. The memory of the Minotaur came back in flashes—roaring, charging, stab, lots of blood, more screaming, and then a red-haired swordsman with a smug smile and suspiciously cool timing.
He groaned and sat up. The Salty Siren was mostly empty now, save for a few unconscious regulars and a barmaid sweeping up broken glass and questionable life choices.
His left arm was wrapped in surprisingly clean bandages, tied neat and tight. Not the half-assed job he would've done.
"Okay," he muttered, flexing his fingers carefully. "Still attached. Ten out of ten, would like to keep that going."
Something slipped off his chest and clinked onto the table.
Raiyo glanced down.
A leather pouch. And the cracked compass Kyoji had given him last night.
He opened the pouch and almost choked. A thick stack of gold and silver coins looked back at him, smug as hell.
"What in the name of Olympus…" Raiyo whispered. "Did I… rob someone and black out? Again?"
There was a folded scrap of paper tucked into the pouch. He pulled it free.
The handwriting was messy but confident:
Raiyo,
You've got the guts, idiot. Now you just need a ship and something that won't snap in half the next time you fight a cow on steroids.
Use this to buy:
A real sword.
A ship that won't sink when you sneeze.
Follow the compass, not your fear.
— Kyoji
P.S. Try not to die before you do something interesting.
Raiyo stared at the note.
"Wow," he muttered. "I've known this guy for like… a day, and he already understands that I have poor survival instincts."
He looked around the tavern out of reflex, hoping Kyoji was still there, leaning against a pillar with that cocky grin.
Nothing.
Just snoring, distant cursing, and a chair that collapsed under a sleeping sailor.
Raiyo blew out a breath, grabbed the compass, and held it in his palm. The cracked needle jittered wildly for a moment, then swung decisively toward the tavern door.
"Right," he said. "We're really doing this, huh?"
He shoved the pouch into his jacket, tightened the bandages around his arm, and walked out into the blinding light of the harbor.
Naturally, he startled at a seagull screeching overhead and went off like a human flashbang.
Half the street swore at him.
"Sorry!" he called. "Gods, I hate this power!"
The blacksmith's forge roared hot enough to make Tartarus jealous.
Raiyo stepped inside, the heat hitting him like a wave. The blacksmith—a broad-shouldered woman with arms like sledgehammers and a face that said I've seen some things and I'm unimpressed—glared at him.
"You again," she grunted. "You still owe me for yesterday's sword you used to skewer that bull freak."
"Technically," Raiyo said, raising a finger, "I saved the town from being turned into beef tartare."
"And broke my best practice blade."
"Details."
She held out a hand. "Money. Or I weld your feet to the floor."
Raiyo dug into the pouch, slapped down enough coins to make her eyebrows twitch upward.
"You're… actually paying?" she said slowly.
"Don't sound so shocked, it hurts my feelings."
She grunted. "What are you after?"
"I need a sword," he said. "A real one. One that won't snap if I look at it funny."
She studied him for a second, eyes flicking to the bandage on his arm, then jerked her chin toward a rack near the back.
"Those are for show-offs and idiots," she said. "You're definitely one of those. Pick one."
Raiyo walked over.
Blades of all shapes and sizes lined the rack—sleek katanas, heavier broadswords, twisted experimental nightmare weapons that looked like they were forged by someone who hated sanity. One sword caught his eye.
A katana, simple but elegant. The scabbard was dark blue, wrapped in worn leather. The guard was shaped like a rising sun over waves, and the handle had faded azure wrappings. It didn't scream legendary, but it did whisper reliable.
He picked it up. It felt… right. Balanced. Solid.
"What's this one?" he asked.
The blacksmith glanced over. "That? Some sailor traded it in years ago. Said it belonged to a swordsman who pissed off a god. Or a woman. Maybe both. No one else's liked it. Blade's stubborn."
Raiyo slid it partially from the scabbard. The steel gleamed, a thin line of light crawling along the edge as if the sword were tasting the sun.
"Yeah," he said softly. "I like it."
He slammed more coins onto the anvil. "I'll take it."
The blacksmith snorted. "Don't get yourself killed with it."
"No promises," Raiyo said.
Buying a ship was somehow worse.
Namiara's docks were lined with vessels of all sizes—from grand galleons to shabby fishing boats that looked like they'd fall apart if you sneezed on them. Shipwrights shouted prices, pirates argued, sailors hauled cargo, and a gull pooped on Raiyo's head five minutes in.
"Gods are watching over me my ass," he grumbled, wiping it off. "Thanks, Zeus."
The compass needle swung steadily to the left, pulling him through the maze of docks until it stopped, pointing dead ahead at a small ship moored at the far end.
It wasn't pretty.
About twenty meters long, one mast, scarred hull but well-maintained. White sails patched in a few places, sturdy rigging, and a small cabin at the back. Not grand, not flashy, but not garbage either. Like a starter home, but for future maritime disasters.
A man with a thick beard and thinner patience leaned on the railing, watching Raiyo approach.
"You lost, kid?" the man asked.
"Chronically," Raiyo said. "But the compass says hi."
The man raised a brow as Raiyo held up the cracked dial. The needle was locked onto the little ship like it was in love.
"That old piece of junk?" the shipwright asked. "She's called the Hikari's Folly. Fast, stubborn, and only sinks when you treat her like shit. Why?"
"I want her," Raiyo said.
The shipwright laughed. "You? You look like you get seasick staring at a puddle."
Raiyo unsheathed his new katana an inch, letting the sunlight skim the blade. "I also killed a Minotaur yesterday and blew up half the street by accident. I'm full of surprises."
The man eyed him, then shrugged. "Your funeral. Price is—"
Raiyo dropped a fat handful of coins into his palm.
The shipwright blinked. "You didn't even haggle."
"I don't know how," Raiyo admitted.
"…Fair enough."
They shook on it. Within an hour, Raiyo had provisions loaded, water barrels secured, and the minimal knowledge of "don't drown, don't hit rocks" explained to him in a lecture that mostly sounded like, "If you break her, I'll haunt you."
Raiyo stood on the deck as the dockhands untied the ropes.
The compass sat in his palm, needle pointing toward the wide open sea like it was daring him.
He swallowed, heart pounding.
"Okay, Hikari's Folly," he murmured. "Let's go find out how many bad decisions fit in one lifetime."
He raised the sails, wind catching the fabric with a satisfying snap. The ship lurched forward.
People stared, some scoffing, some shouting last-minute advice or insults.
Raiyo grinned like an idiot and shouted back, "If I don't die, I'll come back rich!"
Someone yelled, "If you don't die, I'll eat my boots!"
"Save me a shoelace!" Raiyo replied.
And with that, the Hikari's Folly left Namiara behind.
Three weeks later, Raiyo decided that the sea was an asshole.
Storms came out of nowhere. Twice, a wave nearly flipped the ship. He got chased by something with too many teeth and not enough body (pretty sure it was a baby sea monster, which was somehow worse), almost ran into a floating nest of harpies that screamed insults so vicious even he felt emotionally attacked, and once, during a squall, he startled at lightning and flashbanged himself straight into falling off the mast.
He survived. Mostly by accident.
He learned to tie knots, steer by the stars, and swear in at least three new dialects thanks to the voices on the wind that might've been bored minor wind spirits.
But every time he considered turning back, the compass didn't waver. Just pointed, steady, insistent.
Forward.
"Fine," he told it one night, lying on the deck under a sky full of cruelly pretty stars. "I'll play along. But if this ends with me getting eaten by some pissed-off kraken, I'm haunting Kyoji."
By the end of the third week, he was sunburnt, tired, leaner, and had gotten used to the weird shimmering effect that sometimes danced along his skin when he focused on his light.
Still couldn't control the flashbangs, though.
Because of course not.
On a humid morning thick with mist, a shape finally appeared on the horizon.
A cluster of buildings, a fortified wall, a tall watchtower sporting a huge Navy flag snapping in the wind. Cannons lined the harbor fort, and ships flew crisp white sails marked with the blue insignia of the world's enforcers.
The compass needle pointed straight at it.
"Great," Raiyo muttered. "Of course. The magical divine compass of destiny wants me to go to a Navy town. What's next, Hecate, you want me to juggle volcanoes?"
As he drew closer, he could make out more detail. A bustling harbor. Stone streets. A fortress rising over everything like a grumpy stone god.
A weathered sign on a rocky outcropping proclaimed:
WELCOME TO AEGIS PORT
Under the protection of Fort Aegis and the Honorable Navy.
"Yeah, that's not ominous at all," Raiyo said. "Aegis Port. Fort Aegis. Cool. Very welcoming. Totally not a place where dreams go to get arrested."
He steered the Hikari's Folly toward an open slot at the docks, heart hammering as Navy officers in crisp uniforms watched him tie off. He hopped down to the pier with casualness he absolutely did not feel.
The compass vibrated faintly in his hand, the needle now pointing into the town itself.
"Alright," he sighed. "Let's go see what kind of trouble you want me in now."
He adjusted his sword at his hip, shoved his hands in his pockets, and walked into Aegis Port, completely unprepared for the three-sword lunatic fate was about to throw at him.