On the shore, a group of slaves had escaped the chaotic battlefield with their lives. They stumbled toward the sea.
"Look! A Warship!" one of the slaves cried, pointing ahead.
More than a dozen Warships were anchored in the shallow bay, their naval flags fluttering in the sea breeze.
To these people, who had only just escaped death, those flags represented order and protection.
"Quick! Let's go!"
The crowd staggered toward the shore.
"Marine officers! Please, let us escape this island too!"
The slaves fell to their knees along the shore, clasped their hands together, and cried for help with the last of their strength.
On the Warships' decks, the Marines watched coldly.
To them, these people were slaves, not civilians, and thus did not deserve their protection.
Just then, the doors to the Warships' cabins opened.
More than a dozen Celestial Dragons filed out. They stood by the rails, looking down at the slaves on the shore as though watching a group of amusing ants.
"How noisy." The Celestial Dragon at their head, Saint Charlos, picked at his ear. "Where did all these filthy slaves come from?"
The female Celestial Dragon beside him, Shalria, covered her nose and mouth with a silk handkerchief.
"How disgusting. How could these lowly creatures dare approach our ships?"
The slaves on the shore froze.
They recognized those outfits. These were the Celestial Dragons who had brought them to this hell and hunted them like prey.
Saint Charlos sneered. "Marines!"
"Yes, sir!" The Rear Admiral beside him immediately straightened up.
"Can't you see these slaves are polluting my view?" Saint Charlos pointed at the shore.
"Fire! Clean up this trash!"
"Yes, sir!" The Rear Admiral saluted.
The cannons turned, taking aim at the unarmed slaves on the shore.
Just then, a figure suddenly appeared