North Blue.

Philseque Island.

Philseque Island is a winter island, locked in snow year-round. Villages surround the island, and generations of families have lived quietly and peacefully here.

It was already close to dusk, but the cold wind still howled across the island, and the sunlight was dim and weak. Thick snowflakes fell from the sky like goose feathers, blanketing the island in a coat of silver.

Laughter echoed through the quiet village as children bundled in cotton coats played in the snow-covered streets, their boots sinking deep into the soft snow. They were so caught up in their games they forgot to head home.

As chimney smoke rose from the houses, adults' voices began to ring out through the streets.

"Time for dinner!"

"Stop playing!"

"..."

Parents chased their mischievous children through the snow, faces flushed from the cold and the running, finally pulling their reluctant kids back toward their homes.

Will, a well-known blacksmith on Philseque Island, held the hand of his eight-year-old child, exchanging greetings with neighbors as he made his way home.

"Will, my pot broke. When can you come take a look at it?"

"No problem. Tomorrow's fine, Aunt Lilith."

"Will... the fish haven't been biting lately. Can I pay you next month for the kitchen tools you fixed?"

"Hahaha, you still owe me money? I completely forgot. Don't worry about it—just pay me when you can."

"..."

Will responded to everyone with a cheerful smile, his good-naturedness warming the chilly air.

Philseque Island was poor. The winter climate made farming nearly impossible, and life here wasn't easy for anyone. But even if it was hard, at least it was peaceful.

They were poor, yes—but there were no wars, no blood feuds, no hatred, and no pirates coming to steal the food they relied on to survive.

But Will still remembered a time when Philseque Island wasn't like this.

Back then, thugs roamed freely, bandits ran wild, the mafia extorted them, and pirates raided the coasts... Just like the North Blue's reputation—chaotic to the core.

When did it all change?

Will was a rough man, never the type to remember things clearly. He even forgot who owed him money half the time.

But that day—he remembered it perfectly.

It was four years and four months ago.

A warship claiming to be from the North Blue 321 Branch sailed into Philseque Island.

"By order of the new North Blue Admiral Rogers Daren, starting today, the North Blue Marines will collect a fixed military security tax of 10% to protect Philseque Island from unlawful attacks and pirate raids."

That was what they said.

The villagers were stunned, like they'd been struck by lightning.

Ten percent didn't sound like much on paper, but for them—people who'd already been squeezed dry by the mafia and pirates—it was a devastating blow.

It was enough to shatter their already miserable lives.

But what could they do?

Faced with cold-eyed, armed Marines, these weak villagers had no choice but to agree.

One day at a time, they thought.

That's the way normal people live, isn't it?

They weren't Celestial Dragons—those godlike nobles born with everything. Why would luck ever be on their side?

Face reality, Will.

That's what he told himself, holding his child's hand tightly.

But then...

Just when they had finally scraped together enough to pay the tax to the North Blue Marines, something unimaginable happened.

All the thugs, bandits, and mafia scum who'd plagued them for years disappeared overnight.

No one knew what had happened.

The villagers didn't dare leave their homes. They locked their doors, huddled under blankets, and listened in fear to the screams that echoed outside.

The howls and cries went on all night.

When dawn broke and the sun began to melt the snow, they cautiously stepped outside—trembling.

Corpses lay stacked at the port, soaked in blood.

The faces of those who had once terrorized them—their twisted, cruel expressions—were gone. What remained were stiff, pale faces frozen in fear and despair.

As for the Marines...

They were still cold and unflinching, their uniforms soaked in blood, swords at their waists dripping red. Torches in hand, they incinerated the mountain of corpses without a word.

Watching the flames rise and the blood soak into the snow, Will realized—for the first time—just how sacred and commanding that white seagull flag truly was.

Then, they saw him.

A young commander, soaked in blood, striding toward them.

Will remembered him clearly—an absurdly young Marine commander, with two neatly trimmed moustaches that made him look far older than he really was.

He seemed a little unaccustomed to smiling and forced a stiff smile.

"Starting today, peace will reign in the North Blue."

"Everyone, please trust the new North Blue Admiral, Daren Rogers. He took your money, so he will do his job."

He took the money, so he will do his job.

Will heard those strange, out-of-place words—words no Marine should ever say—and, for a moment, he almost laughed.

But it was fine.

This new North Blue Admiral really was something else.

At least he wasn't like the crooked Marines before, who pocketed money while colluding with pirates to keep squeezing the people dry.

It didn't matter if they were poor or backward—as long as they could live in peace, that was enough.

Wasn't it?

What they hoped for wasn't much at all.

As the corpses burned and the flames rose,

As the sea wind howled and snowflakes scattered,

As the snow-white seagull flag flew high above the cold and barren Philseque Island—that vague, intangible thing called justice felt real for once.

That day was the most secure the people of Philseque Island had ever felt.

"Vice Admiral Daren, what a good Marine..."

Lost in his memories, Will's eyes flickered as he muttered with a smile.

Compared to the tiny amount they paid in taxes, this hard-earned peace and quiet was far too precious.

They said Vice Admiral Rogers Daren, the "King of the North Blue," was the shrewdest, most business-savvy man in the seas.

But no matter how you looked at it, he seemed to be the one getting the short end of the stick.

Will smiled so hard that his rough eyelids narrowed. His hands, toughened from years at the forge, squeezed his child's hand a little tighter.

And it wasn't just him—every native of Philseque Island believed the same thing.

As long as Vice Admiral Daren was around, no one would dare to shatter their little slice of happiness.

Even if they had never once seen the legendary Marine who had protected them all.

"Hmm, what's that?"

Just as Will was about to step into his yard, he suddenly saw something and stopped, puzzled.

His house wasn't far from the coast, and from here he could see everything happening on the sea.

What he saw were massive warships cutting through the waves, slowly approaching the island.

"It's the Marines... Could it be the North Blue Marines?"

He spotted the seagull flags soaring high, and a wave of excitement surged through him.

He rushed into the house, ignoring his wife's calls, ran down to the basement, and dug out a jar of strong liquor that had gathered dust for years, along with some freshly pickled salted meat. Grabbing his child's hand, he quickly ran out the door.

Philseque Island didn't have much to offer. He only hoped the Marines from the North Blue branch wouldn't look down on his wine and meat.

Will was a little anxious at the thought.

When he got to the shore, he waved eagerly at the approaching warships, smiling from ear to ear.

"Marines, over here!"

He cheered, his heart full of joy.

At last, he could thank them in person.

Looking at the fleet lined up neatly before him, so imposing and majestic, Will's face flushed with excitement.

This was the Navy that had always protected them!

This was the justice they had hoped for and admired!

But unexpectedly...

The warships, as if they didn't even see him, began to slow and come to a halt.

Then—

Will watched, stunned, as a tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped forward from the lead ship.

He was a Marine officer with an odd hairstyle—looked to be around forty, with a black afro and braided beard.

Will didn't know Marine ranks, so he had no idea who the man was, but the powerful aura he radiated made it clear—this was a big name in the Navy.

The world suddenly went quiet.

Snow fell from the sky.

For some reason, as Will looked at the Marines aboard the warships—at the heavy, complex expressions on their faces—an overwhelming sense of dread rose in his chest.

And then, he heard a voice.

Colder than the snow itself.

An order.

Issued by that imposing Marine leader.

"Seal off the island. No one gets in or out."

The man's tone was calm and indifferent.

"Anyone who tries to leave by sea... kill on sight!!"

Clang!

The wine jar slipped from Will's hand, shattering on the ground. Aged liquor spilled everywhere.

The fatty, salty pork fell messily into the snow.

Will collapsed to the ground, eyes filled with terror.

The strong, calloused hands of the blacksmith were shaking uncontrollably.

In that Marine's eyes, he saw pity, sympathy, and sorrow.

And he understood what that look meant.

It was the look someone gives the dying.

...

(100 Chapters Ahead)

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