At dusk, as the orange-red sun gradually sank beneath the sea, two ships towed a colossal creature toward the nearest port.
A vivid scarlet spread across the waters they passed through.
Cyril sat by the window of the passenger ship, eagerly studying the sea outside and watching the fishing boats returning beneath the sunset.
Angelina sat across from him. Noticing his gaze on the fishing boats, she explained calmly, "Judging by that white whale's size, it should be in its prime. They had a good haul and should have a decent New Year afterward."
Cyril glanced at her but did not respond.
Ever since boarding, this Twilight Sword deacon had never been more than three meters away from him. Being watched like a prisoner irritated him.
However, since she had not done or said anything rude, he could only endure it.
When he turned his gaze back to the sea, his spirituality was suddenly stirred. Somewhat surprised, he turned to look at the waters diagonally ahead.
On the previously calm sea, illusory ripples spread out, tearing open a vague phantom door in the air.
Immediately afterward, a hundred-meter three-masted sailing ship covered in pure black charged out from behind the "door" and sailed steadily across the sea.
Lanterns hung one after another along its sides. It was nearly a hundred meters long and carried three pitch-black sails without any markings or symbols.
With a Scribe's exceptional vision, Cyril saw a weathered stone chair two or three meters tall standing against the cabin on the deck.
"The Black Emperor of Nast, the King of the Five Seas."
As soon as he spoke, Angelina, seated opposite him, turned toward where his gaze was focused, her expression far from calm.
When she saw the three-masted ship gradually approaching, the last trace of luck