A ship? Already?
Ethan slid the Dragonblood Dagger back into his inventory and broke into a jog toward the beach.
He was about to meet ordinary people—real society, real conversation, the kind of human friction you couldn’t solve with a knife.
Time to dust off the old skills.
***
From the shoreline, the vessel was still a toy on the horizon.
Xia circled overhead—then dropped beside him, wings folded.
“You’re sure that’s a merchant ship?” Ethan asked.
“Look at the sail,” Xia said. “That emblem belongs to Dossen Shipping Company. They run wine.”
“Heading to Storm Island?”
“Yes. Dossen is based there. Most of their routes are.”
***
Ethan kept his face neutral, but his mind filed away a sharp detail: Xia knew Storm Island a little too well.
Dragonkind had “vanished,” according to rumor.
So how had a black dragon hatchling learned trade routes and corporate emblems?
The Everbound Contract meant she couldn’t betray him easily… but it didn’t mean she couldn’t lie.
***
“You’re going to talk to sailors looking like that?” Ethan nodded at her scales. “Last I heard, dragons went into hiding.”
Xia rolled her eyes so hard it was practically a spell.
The air beside Ethan made a thin tearing sound—like fabric ripping.
When he looked down again, a sleek black cat sat where the dragon had been.
Golden eyes. Same attitude.
***
Ethan crouched and, on instinct, rubbed the cat between the ears.
“Honestly,” he said, amused, “I like you better like this.”
“Mrrp.”
The cat jumped away as if his hand was radioactive.
***
While she sulked, Ethan tested something else.
Rodless Fishing stirred at his touch.
Nothing happened. No system text. No loot.
He wasn’t surprised.
Living intelligent beings had will. They could become followers. They weren’t just “resources” the world let you harvest.
Good. Useful boundary to know.
***
The ship drew in, steam hissing faintly over the water.
It was a solid-looking steamship—thick hull, clean lines, the kind built to survive bad weather.
On the prow, painted in loud, confident color, was a huge jellyfish.
Jellyfish, then.
***
Sailors spotted him first, pointing from the rail.
Ethan ran through his cover story one last time: shipwrecked student from the Eastern Isles, washed up alone, half-concussed, missing pieces of memory.
He let the relief show on his face like he’d just been handed his life back.
***
The captain was a hard-built man in his fifties with hands like rope and skin weathered into leather.
His name was John Rupert.
“The sea’s a temperamental lady,” Rupert said with a laugh as they threw a rope ladder down. “One minute she’s smiling, the next she’s trying to drown you.”
Ethan gave him a tired grin. “Guess I flirted wrong.”
The first mate snorted. “Nah. She just likes pretty boys. That’s why you made it.”
***
Seafarers saw shipwreck survivors often enough to develop a blunt kind of compassion.
After Ethan fed them a half-true version of events, Captain Rupert didn’t press for details.
He hauled Ethan aboard, put food in his hands, and promised him a ride to Storm Island without even asking for payment.
Ethan exhaled, quiet with relief.
***
He paid it back the only way he could—by working.
He helped carry barrels, hauled fresh water from Moonlight Island’s pool, and made himself useful without being asked.
By mid-morning, the crew had decided he was “one of the good ones.”
***
When no one was watching, the black cat hopped onto an empty crate and stared at him.
“Didn’t you say you forgot your name?” Xia asked, voice dry.
Ethan kept stacking casks. “I said I forgot pieces.”
“Last night you told me you only remembered your family name.”
He didn’t look at her. “I did.”
“And today,” Xia continued, relishing it, “you told the captain you only remember your first name.”
***
Ethan set a barrel down with a soft thud and finally met her eyes.
“That’s what head injuries do,” he said. “They make your story flexible.”
Xia’s tail flicked in disgust.
“So what is it, then?” she pressed. “Do you have a name or not?”
Ethan’s mouth curved, faint and sharp.
“Ethan,” he said. “If you need a last name, call me Vale. If you’re planning to write it on a wanted poster, don’t.”
***
Xia puffed up like she’d swallowed a bee.
“Hmph.”
***
At noon, Ethan officially boarded the Jellyfish as they set course for Storm Island.
Captain Rupert estimated two days to reach port.
“Two days,” Ethan muttered once he had a cabin. “Hope the world doesn’t end before then.”
***
With the ship settled into its rhythm, he finally opened the system announcements and checked task progress.
[SYSTEM]
Player Task Progress Bulletin:
Players with 3 tasks complete: 0
Players with 2 tasks complete: 1
Players with 1 task complete: 106
Time remaining: < 13 days *** Still only one person with two tasks. Still him. But the number of players completing at least one task had jumped hard overnight. People were adapting. Ethan's lead was real… and shrinking. *** He switched back to the chat channel—and immediately got hit by a wall of frantic messages. A player had run into pirates. And according to the feed, two Abyss Thralls had been on that pirate crew.