Over the vast expanse of the Oceanus Sea, howling gales shredded the clouds in every direction.
Towering waves, like a moving wall of water, surged forward with unstoppable force.
Beneath the churning surface, several giant sea beasts, shaped like dusky grey mackerel sharks, swung their crescent-shaped tails, pulling behind them long ropes of condensed water. These ropes were tethered to sleek, swordfish-like Atlantean warships, which sliced through the waves with frightening speed, propelled by both beast and storm.
"Southwest star bearing, 800 meters out, 45-degree angle—fire!"
At the barked command of Vice-Captain Andrew, the six remaining Atlantis Golden Guards, still capable of battle, raised their bows in unison and loosed a volley of arrows toward the target in the sky.
Persistent bastards!
Feeling the sharp whistle of arrows slicing through the air behind him, Lorne frowned deeply and cursed under his breath.
He quickly adjusted the mana flow to his Icarus Wings, shifting his altitude and orientation mid-air to dodge the incoming projectiles with fluid precision.
But even as he moved to evade, the two demigods standing at the bow of the ship simultaneously drew ornate golden-bronze arrows from their quivers.
The shafts were engraved with wave-like patterns, and their heads shimmered faintly with the light of the stars as they drew their long bronze bows to full tension with calm, practiced ease.
A wave of intense, familiar dread surged through Lorne's chest, making his scalp prickle.
Orichalcum Secret Arrows?! Again?!
Almost before the thought could finish forming, the air behind him began to shriek, sharp and mournful.
The two enchanted arrows came from above and below, perfectly coordinated to cut off all escape.
This was their new strategy: use the first volley from the Golden Guards to force him to dodge, exposing his rhythm, and then follow up with a precision second strike from demigod sharpshooters, armed with powerful, armor-piercing orichalcum arrows.
It had to be said, through this relentless chase, the Atlantean forces had grown stronger, developing sharper coordination with each encounter.
But their target wasn't standing still either.
In that split second, Lorne suddenly cut off the mana supply to one side of the Icarus Wings.
His body twisted in the shifting airflow, spinning through the sky like a leaf in a storm, just barely slipping between the two deadly arrows.
It's my turn.
At the same time, Lorne's eyes narrowed as he pulled forth an ancient bronze longsword from the glowing magic circle before him and then hurled it with all his might.
Screeee—!
The blade whistled through the air, slicing toward the ship with deadly intent.
As the two demigods instinctively unleashed divine power, raising a sea-blue energy barrier in front of the ship.
"Crack!"
There was a clear, brittle sound as the blade struck the barrier.
What...?!
Captain Dacres looked up sharply, just in time to see that the surface of the cracked bronze sword was etched with overlapping Hermes glyphs, drawn in divine blood.
Their meaning?
Explosion.
At that instant, dazzling light erupted from the blade's fractured core and thousands of razor-sharp shards burst outward, forming a metallic storm of destruction.
"Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom!"
The moment the fragments hit, the sea-blue barrier shattered into countless pieces.
Damn it!
The two demigods were caught completely off guard. Their pupils shrank in shock as they hastily summoned a second barrier, barely managing to shield the people nearby.
"BOOM—!!"
Everything left exposed, the warship, and the sea beasts towing it, were instantly riddled by the storm of metal shards, torn to shreds and consumed in a blast of fire and light.
Whew. Finally shook them off.
Seeing his greatest threat now blown apart and a safe distance opened up between himself and the Atlantean guards, Lorne let out a deep breath of relief.
"Crack…"
But before he could even fully exhale, a sharp snapping sound echoed by his ear.
His body, suspended mid-air, froze for a second as he slowly, stiffly, turned to look behind him.
Fractures were spiderwebbing outward across the wings of his Icarus construct.
It was obvious that after enduring extreme wind pressure and a flurry of high-output mana adjustments, the wings had finally hit their limit.
They were breaking down, completely overwhelmed.
Well..what could he say.
As expected of you..typical friendship-pool quality.
This thing wasn't a gift, it was a trap in disguise!
At that moment, Lorne could only smile bitterly.
As he began to lose control of airflow, he had no choice but to abandon his original plan to cross the Oceanus Sea in one flight. Instead, he started scanning for a nearby island to make an emergency landing.
Fortunately, there was still a way out.
Just as the wings threatened to collapse completely, a small lush island emerged on the horizon.
At its center stood several ruined marble structures, remnants of what seemed to be an ancient temple.
A strange, obscure energy pulsed faintly through the island's ley lines.
And scattered between the broken columns and weathered statues in the central plaza… were dozens of small, moving black figures.
A temple? With people?
Lorne's eyes narrowed and he instinctively raised his guard, but with no better options, he could no longer thing about it.
So, he simply folded his wings and descended rapidly toward a secluded forest near the island's edge.
.
.
.
Meanwhile, in the marble plaza…
What is that?!
A burly, bald man with a face full of scars and a short, wiry man in a felt hat both looked up sharply as the ground trembled beneath their feet. Their gazes met, then shifted toward the island's southwest quadrant.
The bald one gave a nod. Then he spoke, voice low and grim.
"Xuster, go check it out."
"Eh… are you sure that's a good idea?"
The small man, with greedy glint in his narrow eyes, looked nervously around at the carved stone, sculptures, and ancient relics being dug up from the ruined temple. He rubbed his hands together, clearly reluctant to leave the treasure trove behind.
"Don't worry. You'll get your cut."
The bald man's expression remained cold and unreadable. But when he saw the other still hesitating, he raised a single thick finger.
"I'll throw in an extra ten percent. Take it or leave it—someone else will do it if you won't."
"I'll go! I'm on it!"
Realizing the boss was getting irritated, the middle-aged man in the felt hat nodded and agreed with a smile on his face, then turned into a residual shadow and touched the southwest of the island where the movement came from..
Watching the other party gradually go farther and farther, and finally disappearing from sight, the scarred young man standing behind the bald man spoke indignantly, revealing the standard bronze armor under the collar of the coarse cloth
"Boss, we're the ones doing all the heavy lifting. Why does that greedy bastard get such a big share? Let me follow him—I'll take care of him quietly."
"Shut it, idiot! You think we're still in Serifos?"
The bald man shot the youth a sharp glare and lowered his voice to a dangerous murmur.
"You think I wouldn't like to? But without a guide, and no accurate sea charts of the Oceanus, you think you'd even survive the return trip? What's the point of loot if you die before spending it?"
Under the boss's scolding, the young and energetic scarred young man glanced at the figures in the crowd who were dressed the same as the middle-aged man in the felt hat, and lowered his head in dissatisfaction.
However, in the end, he could only spit a mouthful of thick phlegm on the ground to vent his dissatisfaction.
"Tch. Damn Arcadian scum—money-hungry thieves, the lot of them."
Legend had it that the messenger of gods, Hermes was born in a cave in Arcadia, and was widely revered as its guardian deity.
Perhaps because of that divine influence, the people of Arcadia were known for being cunning and slippery—a haven for thieves, merchants, and tricksters alike.
And those loved by Hermes would more or less carry a touch of his blessing, making them quick, stealthy, and perfect for scouting, exploring, and smuggling.
Among them, the middle aged man, Xuster, who just went for the loot, with a trace of Hermes' divine bloodline, was a top-tier operator.
But he was also famous for his greed.
If this mission weren't so risky and lucrative, they would never have brought along a guy like that.
Still, mutual tolerance had its reasons.
For example, even though the bald man had been a demigod for so many years, he wasn't confident he could take down someone with Hermes' speed-blessing in a single move, especially with only a junior demigod as backup.
These people weren't common thieves.
They were the elite strike team of Serifos, carrying out a critical mission on behalf of the king, so failure was not an option.
Once the two sides tore their faces, it would be good for no one.
"Enough chatter! Back to work—now!"
The bald man calmed his thoughts and waved his hand, issuing a crisp order as the dozen or so guards and laborers around him immediately picked up the pace.
Watching slab after slab inscribed with ancient script, along with statues and relics, being hauled onto the ship, the man's earlier frustration from having to cut a deal slowly began to fade.
Although they had failed to find the Divine Blood that His Majesty the King desired the most, discovering a long-abandoned temple on this forsaken island was at least a worthwhile surprise.
As long as they got these treasures and that [particular item] safely off the island, the losses would be more than covered.
They'd all walk away filthy rich.
Already imagining the luxury he'd enjoy back in the city, the bald man couldn't help but glance again at the surrounding statues.
He couldn't quite put his finger on it, but…
There was something unnerving about them.
It was as if—
These weren't statues at all, but living people, forcibly encased in stone.
A sudden chill wind swept through the plaza as the bald man shivered involuntarily, instinctively hunching his shoulders.
Then he barked louder:
"Move it! I want everything packed up and on board before sunset! The moment Xuster returns, we sail!"
Everyone glanced at the sun dipping toward the horizon and hurried their pace.
Fifteen minutes passed and the bald man, now pacing anxiously, began to feel a strange tension creep in.
Why was there still no sign of Xuster?
No way…
He quickly shut down that dark thought, comforting himself with a snort.
How is this possible?
He's got Hermes' blood, the best damn runner the world's ever seen. If that guy wants to escape, no one can catch him.
Yeah… he must've run into something unexpected. Just wait a little longer.
With that thought, he steadied his nerves and returned to barking orders while the team continued looting the ancient ruins.
.
.
.
At the same time, deep within the darkening forest…
A certain descendant of Hermes stood frozen in place, sweat pouring down his forehead in thick beads.
At his feet, dozens of explosive runes glowed faintly in the dirt, flickering like embers.
"I wouldn't move if I were you. They explode."
The friendly reminder came from the pit ahead.
The "corpse" that had drawn all of Xuster's attention just moments before was now… getting up from the ground.
Dusting off fallen leaves and dirt from his robe, the young man turned around slowly and offered a smile, eight straight, sparkling white teeth.
"So… want to die? Or just no longer want to live?"
"…"
Xuster opened his mouth, but no words came out.
His face had frozen over completely.