Three days later.
Off the coast of the Gram Kingdom, West Blue.
The morning sea fog had yet to fully disperse.
Three transport ships laden with grain sailed in a line along a route that had only recently reopened, slowly heading toward the Gram Kingdom's port.
On deck, the sailors were inspecting the mooring ropes and cargo hold seals.
No one noticed that more than ten kilometers away, three armed ships flying no flags were gradually closing in under the cover of the fog.
Inside their cabins, the cannons had long been loaded, while the men on deck had changed into pirate outfits prepared for the occasion.
The lead man lowered his telescope.
"Confirm the target."
"All three are Gram grain ships."
A subordinate beside him asked quietly, "Sink them outright?"
"No."
The man shook his head.
"Rob them first."
"Take every bit of grain we can carry. Burn the rest along with the ships."
"Leave no survivors."
He swept his gaze across the people around him.
"Remember."
"From now on, we're pirates."
Several subordinates grinned.
"Understood."
The three armed ships accelerated at once, and several freshly made skull-and-crossbones flags were raised on their masts.
As the distance between them rapidly closed, the lookout suddenly frowned.
"Boss."
"There's a small boat ahead too."
The man did not even look up.
"A Gram escort ship?"
"Doesn't look like it."
"Then ram it aside."
The lookout continued peering through his telescope. After a few seconds, his expression suddenly turned strange.
"No..."
"Why does this feel a little off?"
The man impatiently held out his hand.
"Give it to me."
He snatched the telescope away.
At the edge of the sea fog, a tiny coffin-like boat floated quietly on the water, its candles swaying softly in the sea breeze.
There was only one