Chapter 156

Chapter 156: Just Follow Me

On a day when the sky was so covered with dark clouds that not even the moonlight could break through.

Even though it should’ve been cloaked in darkness, the area near the dock was unusually bright and bustling, like it was the middle of the day.

Torches were lit in various spots, and dozens of soldiers were pacing around the dock.

Amidst it all, standing in the center, Mulgybson cautiously asked Malion, who was beside him.

“Third Young Master, is it really necessary to go this far?”

The reason for all the commotion at the docks was...

 Lord Mulgybson, we must never, ever let my brother get away!

 What? But didn’t you just say it was a joke earlier...

 You really believe that lun— no, you believe my brother?

Because of Hardin's insane claim that he’d bring back pirates from the Calav Archipelago.

Adjusting his glasses firmly, Malion replied with conviction.

“Of course we do! If my brother actually brings back real pirates, it’ll be too late to stop him!”

In Malion’s mind, a scene from the near future began to take shape.

 Pillage! Set it on fire! Wahahahaha!

The thought of pirates swinging their swords, turning the port into chaos, and stealing the ships they’d painstakingly modified haunted him.

It was the entire family that had worked together to build and protect Mudside with their blood and sweat… and now he wanted to let pirates in?

‘No way. Not even if it means getting salt in my eyes.’

If by some chance word of this got out… no—if Her Highness the Princess were to find out, what kind of disaster would that be?

Even just imagining it made Malion’s face flush red, when Mulgybson scratched his head and asked again.

“I know the Young Master has used extreme methods before, but he’s not completely unreasonable…”

“You say that because you haven’t experienced it yourself. You have no idea how utterly absurd my brother can be until you see it firsthand. This time... this time he’s serious!”

You must never let your guard down around this man!

‘How many times has the family nearly gone down the drain because of him?’

Of course, Malion was well aware that Hardin’s decisions had turned out favorably so far.

But running a noble house wasn’t gambling.

No matter how many victories one had, a single mistake could bring everything crashing down.

Besides...

‘The house has no reason to take such risks anymore!’

Maybe it was a different story when they had nothing.

But now, the family had not one but two estates and even a massive trade port.

As long as they moved steadily, building a strong foundation without overreaching, the path ahead was nothing but solid.

Seeing Hardin acting like someone with a fire under his feet just didn’t sit right with Malion.

Pressing his fingers against his temples, Malion spoke.

“In any case, we absolutely cannot allow my brother to slip out. Everyone, keep that in mind.”

“Yes, sir!”

As Malion widened his eyes and spoke firmly, the nearby soldiers nodded in response.

‘I will never, ever let him get out! As long as we block the boats... even he can’t get to the Calav Archipelago without one!’

…At that moment, on a high hill near Mudside.

“Young Master, that thing near the port… what is it?”

“You don’t need to know.”

Hardin, Beryl, and Mikkelsen.

The three of them were crossing an unfrequented hill path, carrying a small fishing boat on their shoulders.

As for the origin of this boat…

 Village Chief Flamde, can you get me a fishing boat? Preferably a sturdy one.

 A fishing boat? What do you need it for?

 Ah, I’ve got something I need to do with these guys.

It was something Hardin had ‘specially’ asked the former Village Chief of Mudside, Flamde, to get for him.

Which meant… even if this boat went missing, Malion wouldn’t have a clue.

‘In other words, I don’t even need to go through the dock to slip out.’

So they were trying to stop me with that sloppy trick?

Hardin turned his head and motioned to Beryl and Mikkelsen to hurry along.

“Alright, let’s go this way. This way.”

“Young Master, we really are going fishing, right?”

“I told you, didn’t I? I’d be bored alone.”

“Come on, still... doing this in the middle of the night? Uuugh… yawn…”

“Man, you sure talk a lot. Just follow me when I say follow me.”

I’ll take you somewhere real exciting.

A mischievous smile spread across Hardin’s face.

---

The next morning, near Mudside.

“Uuuuugh…”

Malion sat slumped beside a dockside building, nodding off.

In his effort to make sure Hardin didn’t cause any trouble—or rather, to ensure not a single boat left the area overnight—he’d worn himself out and dozed off from exhaustion.

Just then—

“Young Master? Young Master?”

“Uuuuugh…”

A soldier gently shook Malion’s shoulder with a worried look.

Malion slowly opened his eyes and let out a long sigh.

“I must’ve dozed off. No boats slipped out during the night, right?”

“None at all. We kept watch thoroughly. Not a single one escaped.”

“Good, then that’s enough. That’s…”

Just as Malion let out a sigh of relief and rubbed his eyes, the soldier glanced around nervously and spoke.

“Well, there is… a small issue.”

“A small issue? What is it? Speak.”

Malion’s eyes sharpened as he urged the soldier to continue.

The soldier gave a sheepish smile and replied.

“We just received word that… the Young Master has vanished from his quarters.”

“My brother is gone?”

A chill ran down the back of Malion’s neck, his skin erupting in goosebumps.

“But—but didn’t we station guards at the estate too? And he disappeared without a trace?”

Starting with Gadolph, and even a few of the retainers.

Malion had clearly ordered them to report immediately at the slightest sign of his brother’s movements—without a moment’s hesitation.

And yet he vanished in the meantime?

“He didn’t just go somewhere else? I mean, he definitely wasn’t seen around here, so where could he have gone?”

Without a boat, there was absolutely no way he could reach the Calav Archipelago or anywhere else for that matter.

So the chances that his brother escaped from Mudside were...

“That may be true, but... there’s something else strange.”

“Strange?”

“They say Unit Commander Beryl of the Knight Order and Knight Mikkelsen disappeared along with him. And apparently, they left a note behind.”

“A note?”

“Yes, here it is.”

The soldier carefully handed him a single slip of paper.

---

Going out with the Young Master. Make sure to keep training while I’m gone. If you don’t... he said you might fing die. So don’t slack off.

—Beryl

---

Thud.

Malion dropped the note, his shoulders slumping.

“Hah... ha ha, hahaha…”

He let out a hollow laugh and blankly stared up at the sky.

Who knows how much time passed like that.

“Third Young… Master?”

Perhaps that question from the soldier was the final trigger.

“YOU BASTAAAAAARD!”

Malion suddenly jumped to his feet and shouted at the top of his lungs.

“Why! Why the hell are you doing this again?!”

His scream, as he tore at his own hair, echoed loudly across all of Mudside.

---

As the morning sun rose, over the endless expanse of the open sea.

A lone boat sailed steadily through the waters.

What was strange, though, was that despite the wind blowing strongly westward, the boat was heading east—at a rather fast pace.

Of course, the reason was...

“One, two! One, two!”

“Heave! Heaaaaave!”

Beryl and Mikkelsen, aboard the fishing boat, were rowing furiously as if their arms might fall off.

At that moment, Hardin stomped his foot with a loud thud and blew into a bottle before shouting:

“Row faster! Faster! We’ve slowed down!”

“Y-yes, sir!”

“Will you stop that already?! You’re gonna break the boat!”

“Break my ass! You lot won’t even train, but you whine like—hic!”

Hardin, face flushed red, hiccupped as he snapped back.

It had been almost a full day since they’d set out on their voyage.

And with Hardin drinking the whole time without lifting a finger, Beryl and Mikkelsen were on the verge of exploding.

‘Seriously, how far is this fishing trip supposed to be?’

‘Wait, is this even a fishing trip? Something smells fishy here...’

Mikkelsen scowled hard and glared at Hardin.

“What’re you lookin’ at, you little...”

Hardin stuck out two fingers and pointed forward dramatically as he dragged out the last word.

Mikkelsen let out a long, heavy sigh.

“Young Master, isn’t it about time you told us what’s really going on?”

“What?”

“Where exactly are we going?”

“Where else? I told you, we’re going fishing.”

As Hardin casually nudged the fishing rods and net lying on the deck with his foot, Mikkelsen’s brow furrowed.

“I mean, do people usually come this far just to fish?”

“If you want to catch big ones, you’ve got to go far out.”

“Are we at least headed in the right direction? And how much further is it?”

“We’re almost there, almost. Stop rushing me.”

Damn it. You couldn’t trust a word that man said.

Mikkelsen let out a loud sigh and turned his head forward again.

‘Well, it doesn’t seem like anything serious… shouldn’t be a big deal.’

A narrow little boat that looked like it would be full with just five or six people aboard.

The only supplies onboard were a few fishing rods, some nets, and food and water for about two weeks.

If that man didn’t plan to starve to death, he’d have to return to port before they ran out of supplies.

‘Just hang in there a little longer… just a little more…’

Mikkelsen sighed with strained patience as he kept rowing.

Then—

Rumble! Rummmble!

“Huh?”

“What was that sound just now...?”

At the rumble from the sky, everyone lifted their heads.

And there it was—dark clouds, like a colossal demon beast, rapidly approaching from the horizon.

“...Wait, what?”

Moments later—

Plop! Plop! Splatter!

Raindrops began to fall, quickly growing heavier as the wind picked up and the waves grew stronger.

After about twenty or thirty more minutes—

Swooooosh! KRA-KOOM! BOOM!

The clouds turned pitch black, unleashing a torrential downpour and lightning like an enraged god, while the waves roared and tossed the little fishing boat violently.

“Waaaaaah! Water! We’re taking on water!”

“Keep rowing! Row, you bastard!”

The boat was so small that every big wave felt like it might flip them over completely.

“Y-Young Master! What do we do?!”

Beryl, still rowing, whipped his head around to shout.

Hardin, busy bailing water off the deck with a bucket, snapped irritably.

“Why the hell are you asking me?”

“Didn’t you have a plan?! I mean, you brought us out here in this tiny boat!”

“A plan?”

What plan?

Even though storms were a known risk at sea, this level of chaos—and this early into the voyage, on just the second day—was anything but normal.

Which meant...

‘What kind of damn luck is this?’

Hardin tightly shut his eyes, then shouted:

“You idiots are the plan!”

“What did you just say?!”

“Three strong mana users, including me! With that much power, we can take on a typhoon or whatever else comes our way—no problem!”

“Whhaaaat?! That makes absolutely no sense!”

What the hell kind of thought process leads to something like this?!

How long had the chaos gone on like that?

KRA-KOOM!

“Urgh!”

Suddenly, a deafening crash shook the hull violently...

SPLAAAAASH!

A massive wave slammed into the side of the boat.

Tilt!

And just like that, the fishing boat, which had barely managed to stay afloat until now, flipped over helplessly.

“Damniiiiiiit!”

“The boat! The boaaaaat!”

“Hang on, Mikkelsen!”

Everyone struggled desperately, battered by the waves, trying not to be swept away.

They wanted to climb back onto the boat, but it had completely flipped over—it wasn’t going to be easy.

‘Damn it! We’re gonna drown like dogs out here...’

Face pale as a sheet, Beryl clung to one side of the boat and shouted.

“Mikkelsen! Grab on! Let’s flip the boat back over first!”

“Yes, sir!”

The two of them hoisted the boat up onto their shoulders.

Then, with blue light glowing in their eyes—

“One, two, three!”

“Huuaaargh!”

They put all their strength into one side, pushing upward.

But unfortunately...

SPLAAAAASH!

Another wave surged in at just the wrong time and smacked the boat back over mid-flip.

“Damn it! Again!”

“Yesssirrr!”

They kept trying again and again, but the results were always the same.

And the real problem was...

“Haaah… haaaah… damniiiit!”

“M-my strength…”

Every attempt drained their energy more and more.

Holding out in the stormy sea was already exhausting—and each time they tried to flip the boat, it just rolled right back over.

‘S-so heavy…’

‘I can’t... keep this up…’

Their mana and stamina were reaching their limits.

At this rate, they were going to drown long before they could flip the boat back over.

And that’s when—

“What the hell? And here I thought the people of Daphne could handle more than this!”

“Y-Young Master?!”

Hardin slipped in between Beryl and Mikkelsen…

Bzzzzzzmmm!

He infused both hands with blue mana, grabbed one side of the boat, and calmly surveyed the area.

SPLAAAAASH!

As the next wave surged toward them—

“Now!”

With his eyes wide open, Hardin thrust his arms upward with all his strength.

Then...

SPLASH!

The boat flipped back upright and sat firmly atop the waves.

But the real issue was that another wave would come crashing in at any moment and flip the boat again.

And yet—

‘Let’s see you try.’

FWOOOSH!

Hardin kicked up from the water and launched himself toward the incoming wave, swinging a mana-charged fist straight into it.

‘Balance the force...’

BOOOOM!

The moment his fist connected with the wave, it shattered apart, and the mana contained in his punch dispersed rapidly outward.

Rip Current.

One of the secret techniques of Wave Swordsmanship, it reversed the force of an incoming opponent back at them.

The massive wave, charging like a wild beast, suddenly stilled.

‘W-what the hell?’

‘The waves... they stopped? Just around here?’

As the two looked around, wide-eyed, they saw that the sea within a 10-meter radius around the boat had gone eerily calm, as if by magic.

‘What did that guy do this time?’

It looked like something straight out of a spellbook.

While the two blinked in a daze, Hardin shouted.

“What’re you gawking at? Get on board already!”

“Y-yes, sir!”

The two scrambled aboard the boat in a hurry.

---

After barely surviving the near loss of the boat, time passed once more.

The fierce storm clouds had drifted off into the distance, and the bright sun once again shone down on them from above.

“We... we lived. We’re alive, Brother Beryl!”

“Hahaha... I really thought we were dead meat.”

Beryl and Mikkelsen embraced each other, shedding hot (and very manly) tears, while Hardin stood behind them, arms crossed, shaking his head.

“See that, you punks? Just shut up and things’ll work out. You’re all whining like it was hard or something.”

I mean, none of this would’ve happened if we hadn’t come out here in the first place...

They cursed him with their eyes but dared not say it aloud.

Just then—

Growwwwl!

A loud sound came from Hardin’s stomach.

“Whew... using all that energy made me hungry.”

Now then, let’s see… where’s the food…

Hardin rubbed his belly and stretched his arm out, pawing the air.

After a moment of this aimless searching—

“...Huh?”

Feeling something was off, Hardin furrowed his brow and asked Mikkelsen,

“Hey, Mikkelsen.”

“What now.”

“Where’s all the food?”

“Where do you think? Fish food.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“It all got swept away during the storm.”

Mikkelsen sighed deeply as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, but Hardin narrowed his eyes and asked again,

“Got swept away? You just let it float off?”

“Come on, how the hell were we supposed to recover anything in that storm while struggling just to stay upright?! Please, say something that makes sense.”

This... this was starting to look like a complete disaster...

Hardin’s face twisted with dismay.

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