Bloodstained Black Beast

Evening.

The setting sun had not yet fully descended.

An urgent report came from the northernmost sentry post of Whale Tail Island.

The enemy had arrived.

A great fleet of over fifty warships appeared on the sea, their white sails densely packed together like an endless sea of clouds, charging toward Whale Tail Island at full speed. Though still a considerable distance away, the sentries standing guard on the watchtower could already feel the biting killing intent rushing toward them.

The warships slowly approached the steep cliffs along the coast.

This was no place for a large-scale landing. The ships couldn't even get too close; they could only fire a demonstrative volley at the watchtower perched on the cliff from a fair distance. Most of the cannonballs fell into the sea, with only a few striking the cliff face, blasting a large chunk of rock to pieces that rained down into the water like a downpour.

Just as the sentries on the watchtower were completely fixated on the firing warships, two figures slipped into the water like shadows, swimming swiftly like fish, dodging reefs and predatory sea creatures as they made their way toward the shore.

The fleet continued south along the coastline.

The vast, sprawling armada still held the sentries' full attention.

They were completely unaware that two "big fish" had already reached the base of the cliff. The two men emerged from the sea without exchanging a word, dragging their dripping bodies up the nearly 120-degree steep cliff face in silence, using both hands and feet. Their nimble, swift movements were no less impressive than those of a gecko or other climbing reptiles.

Scaling the fifty-meter sea-eroded cliff didn't take them long.

Grabbing a protruding rock, the dark figure lightly tapped the cliff with the tip of his foot, soaring up like a black waterbird to be the first to crest the cliff. His companion followed close behind, climbing up as well. This man, wearing nothing but a pair of ultra-short swim trunks, revealing a lean, fair-skinned build, landed and steadied himself.

"Fast work!"

The man in only swim trunks walked to the entrance of the stone watchtower and peeked inside. Sure enough, splashes of crimson and scattered bone fragments everywhere—it looked like a hundred elephants had finished a tap dance inside the tower. Mangled flesh was strewn about, making it impossible to discern any human shape, let alone how many people had died in there.

Not a single remotely intact corpse could be found.

He sniffed lightly.

The thick, fresh smell of blood hung in the air, and a look of disgust instinctively surfaced on his face.

"A beast is still a beast," he muttered, watching his companion, also clad only in black swim trunks, descend the stone stairs. Each step left a bloody footprint. The dark figure's body was smeared with gore, a length of intestine draped over his shoulder, his ferocious appearance like an Asura crawling out of a pool of blood.

He couldn't help sneering.

"You want to become my food too?"

The dark figure grinned, revealing two rows of bloody, shark-like fangs. His pitch-black eyes brimmed with savage, greedy malice.

"Stay away from me. Come close, and I'll snap your neck."

The swim-trunked man waved his hand in disgust, backing five or six meters from the watchtower entrance, watching the nauseating creature step out, leaving a trail of blood behind him.

He loathed this kind of person from the bottom of his heart. This beastly, unsightly way of fighting was utterly repulsive. But unfortunately, they were both subordinates of Lord Umit. No matter how much he disliked it, he still had to work alongside this disgusting beast.

"I'll eat you sooner or later."

The dark figure said this with a laugh, then, before the swim-trunked man could flare up, turned his gaze south.

"More food's coming."

The swim-trunked man mentally noted the debt, then looked south as well. The gravel path from the watchtower stretched southward into the island's interior, and at the end of that path, two figures—one tall, one short—had now appeared.

Whale Tail Port.

"Over fifty warships... how frightening!"

Aleus was eating a cold treat when he received the news. He chuckled, set down his cup and spoon, and turned to the aide standing beside him. "Where are Dick and Eschbach?"

"We contacted them three minutes ago. They're four kilometers from the northernmost watchtower. By now, they should have spotted the Amento Kingdom's fleet," replied the man, Dillon. He had a sufficiently robust build—252 centimeters tall, with arms as hard as steel and bristly black hair combed neatly like a brush, not a strand out of place.

He was the type of man with a stubborn mind, reliable in his duties, and loyal to his post.

He firmly believed in the importance of rules and order in this world, and thus loved to use the iron fist of rules and order to greet the heads of lawbreakers. He believed that without doing so, lawbreakers would never understand the importance of rules and order to this world.

By the way, though his name sounded like it could be a twin's with Dick's, they were not related by blood.

"Tell them I don't want the island's residents to be harassed in any way!"

Before Whale Head Island and Whale Belly Island fell, they had sent back plenty of useful intelligence. Among it was mention of strong individuals evading sentry surveillance, landing on the islands from unsuitable spots, catching the garrison off guard, and, with internal cooperation, easily breaking through the established defenses.

It was a simple trick.

The beaches suitable for large-scale landings on an island were naturally limited. But for a few strong individuals surpassing ordinary people, as long as they could get close to the coast, no cliff, reef, or whirlpool could stop them from coming ashore.

This seemingly simple trick, when used well, was actually extremely practical.

So, To prevent this from happening on Whale Tail Island, Aleus had already dispatched his two aides to the island to keep an eye on the Amento Kingdom's fleet moving south. If they found any sneaky claws reaching ashore, they were to kill them on sight—no prisoners needed.

"Yes, Your Highness."

Dillon stepped aside, took out a Den Den Mushi, and contacted his companion on the island.

But the call went through, and no one answered.

He didn't dial again. Instead, he returned to Aleus's side and reported the situation.

"No answer? Looks like they've caught the stowaway mice."

Aleus chuckled softly.

His emerald-green eyes were as clear as the purest gemstones, reflecting the dim yellow glow of the setting sun. "Dillon, get ready. Since Dick and Eschbach have already made their move, it won't be long before things get lively here. Don't let us be caught scrambling when the time comes..."

"Oh, and don't forget that lazy fool Kappas. He needs some exercise too."

"Kappas will fight hard," Dillon said seriously. His clenched fist, bigger than a clay pot, was clearly ready to do some educational work. Whether Kappas liked it or not, he was about to fight hard.