Never before in history had a human fleet sailed across the distant seas toward an ancient, unknown land. The surging power brought by magic-powered machinery cleaved through the waves, while ancient races from the deep sea and legendary dragons guided their course and safeguarded the fleet—such a sight was something almost everyone believed could exist only in a bard's tale.
Byron stood on the deck of the Winter's Wrath, gazing into the distance. The cold wind carried the briny scent of the sea, and at some point, he had become completely accustomed to it—accustomed to the sense of grandeur and awe that came from facing the boundless ocean.
The sound of beating wings suddenly came from high above. Byron instinctively looked up and saw a black dragon approaching the Winter's Wrath's deck like a dark cloud falling from the sky. Before it had even fully landed, the enormous figure swiftly transformed amid distorted light and shadow into a young man with short black hair, brown skin, black eyes, and a cheerful smile.
He was one of the escorts Tarlonnd had sent to protect the fleet and guide its route. His name was Mokorur.
The black dragon, now in human form, landed on the deck and walked briskly over to Byron. In a relaxed tone, he said, "We're crossing the Eternal Storm Sea. We've been lucky—the weather has been excellent all the way... and the sea conditions are good too."
"This is the Eternal Storm Sea? That terrifyingly huge storm from back then?" Byron immediately looked startled. He raised his head and surveyed the gently rolling sea beneath the breeze. Aside from the faint outlines of some reefs and islets far, far away, there was nothing here. "I can't see anything..."
"Because the ancient power that once occupied these waters has