World of Toril—Sea of Fallen Stars.
This was a chaotic place, renowned not only for producing such warm and lively folk as pirates.
It also contained dangerous regions like Dragon Island, which sounded fantastically perilous just by name alone.
And with the descent of the gods, over this recent stretch of time, the danger level across this vast ocean had risen in a straight line!
No one knew how many coastal towns had been looted clean, nor how many unlucky merchants had become necessary ingredients for evil gods' living sacrifices.
Even the odds of random passersby getting blasted in the face by Dragon Breath had shot straight up.
At present, somewhere near the coastline.
On a small fishing boat carrying only three people, plainly dressed fishermen were cautiously casting their nets.
Recently, this area had been far from peaceful. Several fishing boats had already vanished in succession.
If not for the abundant fish here—and the fact that public safety in other regions was hardly any better—they would never have come here even if beaten to death.
Even though they had come here out of necessity, they acted like thieves.
As they cast their nets, they kept glancing left and right, surveying their surroundings and ready to turn tail and run at any moment.
After all, if one wanted to live long, apart from being sufficiently vigilant, the most important thing was being able to run fast!
If you should run but didn't, there'd be a living sacrifice with your name on it.
Yet their vigilance was well warranted. Before long, one fisherman's pupils contracted slightly as a medium-sized sailing ship appeared in the distant sea, rapidly closing in.
Upon it, a skull flag representing the pirates' identity fluttered openly in the wind.
Even from far away, it was clearly visible.