THREE DAYS LATER
For three endless days, Ray's sole job had been to mop the deck and—
"BLEHH!"
—vomit his guts out.
Robin smiled like a devil barely holding back his rage. "If even a drop of your filth touches my ship, I swear I'll feed you to Jellyfish."
GROWL.
From beneath the ship, the waters rumbled as Jellyfish let out a guttural growl, sending ripples across the sea.
"I... blehh... I'm sorry..." Ray groaned, hunched over with a bucket clutched in his hands.
"Good. Then make sure you clean every last bit after you're done."
With that, Robin strode toward the quarterdeck and took the helm. Before him, the sea stretched out endlessly, nothing but shimmering water meeting the sky.
"Are we heading in the right direction?" Robin asked, eyeing the tiny compass dangling from a golden chain.
From the crow's nest above, Sicilia's voice rang out, "Yeah, we'll be reaching Dead Island soon enough."
"Hm." Robin nodded, slipping the compass back into his inner pocket. "Then let's pick up the pace."
"Jellyfish—Aquatic Wave, activate!" Jack shouted from below.
The sea beneath the ship trembled. A moment later, a violent jolt surged through the vessel as it shot forward like a storm riding its back.
Ray set his bucket aside and frowned. "Wait... Aren't we supposed to be heading toward the Void Sea? What's this about Dead Island?"
Robin offered no answer.
"It's because there's something important there," Sicilia said, sliding down a rope and landing on the deck with a heavy thud. "We can't continue the journey without it."
She clapped her hands and dusted them off. "Anyway, we'll be at Dead Island soon... and I hope you do know what it is, right?"
Ray scratched his chin. "That all the people there are... dead? Hehe."
Sicilia gave him a deadpan smile. "As I thought. You know absolutely nothing. We might as well feed you to the Celestial Whale."
Ray's jaw dropped. "Can you please stop bringing up feeding me to some giant sea monster in every conversation?"
"It's not our fault," Sicilia said while tightening the sails. "Just remember this—do not get off the ship, no matter what. Stay here and clean. Got it?"
"Got it, ma'am," Ray muttered half-heartedly.
Half an hour later, the ship came to a stop—right in the middle of the open sea, with nothing but endless water in sight.
Ray glanced around in disbelief. "Okay, so where exactly is this so-called Dead Island? Because all I see is water."
Sicilia smirked mischievously and pulled out a gold nugget. Without warning, she tossed it overboard.
"Hey! Why are you throwing gold into the sea—"
Before Ray could finish, the ocean beneath them began to tremble violently, churning as if a storm had erupted beneath the surface. Then, without warning, the ship lurched upward.
"Wait, what the—?" Ray scrambled to the railing, his eyes widening.
Beneath the ship, an enormous stone platform was rising from the depths, lifting the vessel like a floating stage. The ship ascended higher and higher until, suspended in midair, an island came into view—hovering above the clouds.
The rock stopped just below it, and a narrow wooden bridge unfolded from the ship, linking it to the strange floating land.
One by one, the crew disembarked, crossing the swaying bridge.
"How are you, Ola?" Robin called out to an old man waiting on the other side.
He was a peculiar figure: a long white beard flowed down to his chest, and a bald head gleamed under the light. In one hand he held a golden staff crowned with a round crest, with two shimmering rings hanging from its sides.
Ola coughed hoarsely. "Oh, oh... Long time no see, Robin. How've you been? Last time you came to this island, you nearly demolished the casino." He chuckled between coughs.
Robin snorted and flipped a red ruby toward him. "Why bring up ancient history, old man? I heard old folks forget things easily, but you seem to remember everything too well."
Just then, a circular hole materialized in the air—and the ruby vanished into it with a sharp snap of wind.
Leaning over the railing, Ray watched the exchange. "Robin destroyed a casino? I can barely believe it. He's always smiling..."
Sicilia pulled her black cloak tightly around her shoulders. "That's because you've never seen him angry. When he's mad, no one can stop him."
Ray's eyes widened. "So... why did he destroy it?"
Sicilia paused mid-step. The air around them grew still. Ray held his breath.
"Because," she said flatly, "they called his baby old trash."
"His... baby?" Ray echoed. A memory flashed in his mind—
Robin's devilish grin. "If even a drop touches my baby, I'll feed you to Jellyfish."
A cold shiver ran down Ray's spine. "Right. Got it. I'll make sure not to even think about that again."
"You better not," Sicilia said, stepping onto the bridge. "And as I told you before—stay on the ship."
"So you're looking for that, hmm..." Ola muttered, his tone shifting as he rubbed his chin. "I'm afraid I won't be much help—but I know someone who can assist you."
As he spoke, his gaze drifted to Ray, who was still dutifully mopping the ship's deck. His expression darkened, sharp and calculating, as if he'd sensed something unnatural.
Robin followed Ola's eyes and looked toward Ray. "What? Is something wrong?"
"You people always stumble upon something unusual," Ola said, stroking his long beard, a cold smile stretching across his wrinkled face. "I'm genuinely jealous of your luck."
Robin glanced at Ray with mild disinterest. "That thing? Completely useless. But I'll admit—he cleans better than any of my other crewmates. Keeps my baby sparkling."
A strange flicker crossed Ola's face, but he laughed it off with a loud "Ho ho ho! I see, I see!" He raised his staff. "Well then, let my monkey show you where to find the man who can help you."
With a whoosh of wings, a flying monkey swooped down from the sky and landed gracefully on the top of Ola's golden staff. Robin's smile faltered at the sight of it, his brow twitching.
The monkey growled menacingly at him.
"Ho ho ho, he still doesn't like you," Ola teased, clearly amused.
Robin sighed, exasperated. "Not my fault. I really did try my best, but he just has a grudge."
Ola leaned in and whispered something into the monkey's ear. With a shrill chirp, it took off into the air. A group of silent, cloaked figures began to follow it, weaving through the crowd below.
The Dead Island, shrouded in mystery and myth, had earned its name for good reason. Though the living could set foot on it, they could never truly stay. When night fell, the island submerged back into the ocean depths—and only the dead could remain.
Back on the deck, Ray mopped in silence, but a tremor beneath his feet caught his attention. He dropped the mop and rushed to the railing.
"Wait... What's happening?" he muttered.
Beneath the sea, the great Jellyfish swam in slow, graceful circles, its translucent form rippling beneath the waves, as the platform started to go down.
Ray took a breath. "Well... Robin won't let anything happen to his baby. So as long as I stay on this ship, I'll be fine... right?"
After a while, He leaned against the mop, resting his cheek on the handle, his expression dull with exhaustion. "Seriously... what do they think I am? I came here to awaken my System, and now I'm stuck cleaning a ship like a servant."
He groaned, sliding down the pole until he was slumped on the deck. "How did I even end up in this mess? Wahh... Anyway, I hope nothing's going wrong at the Academy. I really need to get back before the Dean realizes I'm gone."
_____
Meanwhile, at Aetherdeep Academy—
A dim room swallowed all traces of sunlight, its air thick with silence and shadows. In the center, Sam lay sprawled on the cold stone floor, his feathers dulled and soaked with sweat. Tendrils of thick, black sludge oozed from his mouth, slithering across the floor like living ink. He groaned, his voice barely a whisper of pain.
"Where did that loser go?" Alex's voice sliced through the silence like a whip. He spat on the floor, his eyes filled with venom.
Without warning, he stomped hard on Sam's face, grinding his heel cruelly into his cheek.
"Tell me, you fat piece of shit," he snarled. "Still clinging to that pathetic excuse of a friend, huh?"
A cold, mocking laugh followed.
"Such a great friendship," he said, dripping with scorn. "A world-class loser and his loyal fatty. How poetic."
His gang, encircling Sam like vultures, erupted into laughter, their voices echoing off the stone walls, twisted and hollow.
"I... I don't know..." Sam gasped through the pain. "He didn't tell me anything..."
Alex's eyes darkened. He pressed harder, drawing blood from Sam's mouth. "Very well," he hissed. "So you wanna play dumb? Let's see who comes to save you now. Will your useless friend will come to save you?"
He raised his foot again—and the beating began in earnest. Blow after blow fell with cruel precision. Sam didn't even have the strength to scream.
Outside the half-open door, a silent figure watched.
Long silver hair shimmered faintly under a sliver of sunlight.
And then, without a sound, the figure turned—and walked away.