Several hours earlier. Zitry.

  A crowd had gathered before a towering public Seer, its surface glowing with the live broadcast of the Plunder Island competition. Gasps rippled through the square as the visions unfolded — Bumble pinning Valerius into the dirt, Ziraiah forced to raise a knife against her own brother.

  The people trembled, some weeping openly. But one detail nagged at them all: the Enforcer’s face was blurred, obscured as though reality itself refused to show it.

  At the edge of the crowd stood Pungence.

  He towered above every head, dressed simply in green adventurer’s trousers and a tight blue shirt that strained over his vast frame. His black hair shimmered faintly in the Seer-light, his broad arms folded as he watched in grim silence.

  When Ziraiah’s tear-streaked face filled the vision, his jaw tightened.

  He turned. Without a word, he leapt skyward, his colossal form vanishing into the clouds.

  As he flew, memories surfaced.

  ---

  Three years ago. Heful.

  Ziraiah sat perched on his shoulder, her small legs swinging as the bustling streets sprawled around them. The air smelled of bread and flowers, and the people cheered at the sight of him.

  “How are you so big, Pungence?” Ziraiah asked innocently, catching his reflection in a shop mirror. “You’re like… like—”

  Pungence threw his head back, his booming voice ringing across the market.

  “The pinnacle of masculinityyyy! Indeed I am!”

  Ziraiah giggled. “Everyone looks so tiny compared to you.”

  Pungence laughed, deep and thunderous. “Hahaha! That’s because they are tiny compared to me.”

  The people adored him.

  “Morning, Pungence!” someone shouted.

  “Pungence, my hero!” cried a woman, clasping her hands.

  Pungence turned dramatically, flexing his chest. “Good morning to you all!”

  From the crowd, a man whispered, “That girl is tiny. Is she Pungence’s daughter?”

  Another replied, “They both have black hair… could be.”

  Pungence bent his head slightly toward Ziraiah, his voice lowering.

  “They love me because I love them. They admire me because I put their well-being above all else. Because I am the embodiment of everything they dream. With me here, they sleep with their doors open — because they know I am watching. That is why I forged my body into a pillar they can lean on.”

  Ziraiah’s eyes sparkled. “I saw a play about you yesterday! They called you the Titan of Hope.”

  Pungence laughed heartily. “Hahaha! These people never stop.”

  They passed a gym. Ziraiah gasped, tugging on his hair. “Oh my God, there’s a gym here too? Can we check it out?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Inside, the walls were plastered with pictures of him — Pungence striking poses, muscles gleaming. Above them, bold words blazed: The Godly Physique.

  Beneath it: Forge your own Pungence body here.

  The gym-goers froze the moment he entered.

  “Pungence! Pungence is here!”

  A trainer dropped the weights he was holding, nearly crushing his partner. He sprinted to the entrance, seizing Pungence’s massive hand in awe.

  “Welcome, Mr. Pungence! It’s an honor — an honor — to have you in my gym!”

  Children from the youth section bolted across the floor, clambering onto his arms like he was a living playground.

  Pungence laughed, flexing gently as they swung.

  “Training hard, I see! Keep it up. Weights do not grow lighter — you grow greater! Want to be like me, kids? Then train, eat well, and believe in yourselves!”

  He gently set Ziraiah down. “Go look around, little one. Be careful.”

  A voice from the crowd asked, “Is that your daughter?”

  Pungence smiled faintly. “No.”

  Ziraiah’s eyes lit up as she darted across the room. “Eryndor asked Stereen for a place like this… he’ll love it.”

  Her attention snagged on a Seer-screen playing a recording — Pungence striding out of a burning building with seven people clinging to him, flames clawing at his body. Yet neither he nor those he carried bore a single burn.

  He cracked a faint grin, flexing his colossal frame.

  “So long as I stand, no flame will claim a life.”

  Ziraiah’s heart swelled. She looked at him with shining admiration.

  And in that moment, Pungence understood — to her, he was not only a Titan of Hope to the people. He was something even greater.

  ---

  As Pungence cut through the skies, the wind howled around his colossal frame, yet his thoughts were heavier than the air itself.

  I’m sorry, children…

  He clenched his jaw, his eyes burning against the horizon.

  I thought you had grown strong enough to endure on your own. I never expected him to go after you.

  For hours he scoured the endless seas, scanning every ripple of life, every trace of power. The world beneath him blurred — waves torn apart by the shockwaves of his flight, gulls scattering in fear, clouds breaking at his shoulders.

  And then — he felt it.

  A spark. Two sparks.

  Ziraiah. Eryndor. Their presences flickering faintly, fragile yet alive.

  And another…

  The one he had been searching for all this time.

  Pungence’s eyes narrowed.

  “Finally.”

  The ocean below bent under his descent as he angled downward toward Plunder Island.

  Pungence dropped from the skies like a meteor, slamming into the sand with an ear-splitting BOOOOOOM. The entire shore trembled. Mountains quivered. Even the Kottors stirred at once.

  One by one, they appeared around him, their titanic masked forms descending into the crater like living gods. The ground groaned under their weight, their suffocating presence pressing down on the beach.

  Pungence’s face was storm-dark, his jaw rigid, his voice edged with fury.

  “I am here for the children. Stand in my way, and it will not end well for you.”

  The old man raised his hand sharply.

  “Stop.”

  The Eternal Pharaoh turned his glowing gaze. His voice dripped venom.

  “What do you mean stop? Pungence himself stands before us, and you would have us hold?!”

  The old man’s voice cut through, cold and absolute.

  “Do not be foolish. All of you may be able to subdue him… but how many of you will die in the process? I will not have it.”

  He stepped onto the sand, his bare slippers crunching softly. His gaze met Pungence’s without flinching.

  “What do you want, Pungence?”

  “The children.”

  The old man stroked his beard. “Ah yes… the Elvheins. We did not harm them. In truth, it was one of your own who tried to kill them. If not for me, they would already be dead.” He tilted his head, studying Pungence’s immense frame. “They seem very important to you. You owe me, Pungence.”

  The old man turned toward his house, gesturing. Pungence followed, the Titans dispersing with reluctant growls.

  ---

  Inside the house…

  “Pungence!”

  Ziraiah leapt from her seat, tears in her eyes as she threw her arms around his chest. The Titan’s face softened for the briefest moment.

  A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

  The old Dragoon woman sipped tea calmly.

  “Well, if it isn’t the unstoppable weapon. Or is it Titan of Hope? I’ve lost track of all your titles.” She set the cup down, her sharp gaze cutting at him. “What brings you here?”

  The old man sat with a grunt. “He’s here for them.”

  The woman’s eyes narrowed. “Here to finish the job?” She rose, her aura sharp as a blade. “For people who despise your kind, it still baffles me why you work for them.” She stepped closer, voice dripping disdain. “Look at you. You haven’t aged a day.”

  Ziraiah blinked. “You… know her?”

  The old woman chuckled. “We used to… date. Back when I was far more beautiful. And now—old and gray—while you don’t even have a single wrinkle. How do you do it, Pungence? Tell me your secret.”

  Pungence brushed her aside. His voice was flat.

  “We’re not the same race, Florence. Of course we age differently.”

  He crossed the room to Valerius, watching the boy’s wounds knitting shut, arms regrowing before his eyes. His expression hardened.

  “This shouldn’t be possible. We don’t heal this fast. And we certainly don't regenerate entire limbs. How is he doing this?”

  Ziraiah lowered her head. “I don’t know either. It just… happens to us.”

  Pungence’s sharp gaze flicked from Valerius to his sister. His voice was low, deliberate, every word carrying the weight of judgment.

  “Do you also possess this same ability?”

  Ziraiah met his eyes without flinching.

  “…Yes.”

  Pungence turned—and froze. His eyes locked on Eliana, sitting silently in the corner.

  “…What are you doing here?” His voice was sharp, like steel. “Why are you here?”

  Eliana flinched, backing away. “Uncle Pungence, listen. Father allowed me to come—”

  “WHAT?!”

  The windows shattered from the sheer force of his voice. Dust rained down from the ceiling.

  “You expect me to believe Gozay would let you walk into this?”

  Eliana clenched her fists, shouting back, her eyes burning.

  “I’ve grown stronger! I can protect myself! That’s why he let me come! I’m tired of you treating me like a child. I am not a child anymore. I can make my own decisions!”

  Pungence stared at her for a long moment. Then sighed heavily.

  Eliana’s eyes trembled as she whispered:

  “Then why? Why did that man try to kill Ziraiah and her brothers? Aren’t you supposed to be the good guys?”

  Pungence groaned, pinching his nose bridge. His voice was low.

  “This world isn’t black and white, Eliana. It’s—” He stopped abruptly. A thought struck him like lightning. His eyes widened.

  “Ziraiah. Where are Juvian and Isabela?”

  Ziraiah lowered her head. “They couldn’t make it to the last round. They—”

  Before she could finish, the walls shook.

  Pungence blurred out of the house—then reappeared seconds later, both Juvian and Isabela dangling effortlessly under his arms.

  Juvian flailed, wide-eyed. “What the—what just happened?!”

  Isabela’s voice broke into a gasp. “Pu—Pungence? How did you even find us?!”

  Pungence didn’t answer. He simply carried them inside, his towering frame filling the doorway.

  “Let’s go.”

  His eyes lingered on Irisa for a heartbeat, unreadable, but he said nothing. Instead, he turned to Ziraiah.

  “Get your brothers. We’re leaving.”

  Ziraiah hurried, waking Eryndor from his exhausted slumber, then hoisting Valerius onto her shoulder.

  Eliana walked silently at Pungence’s side, her defiance replaced with quiet thought.

  They reached the shore.

  Pungence withdrew a small metallic device from his pocket and hurled it onto the sand. With a hiss of unfolding steel, it expanded into a full-sized Waver.

  “Get in.”

  One by one, they climbed aboard. Eryndor’s arm had already regenerated, his body whole once again.

  Pungence stepped onto the Waver last, his presence filling the vessel.

  Behind them, the old man stood at the shoreline, the sea wind tugging at his beard.

  “Remember this, Pungence. You owe me.”

  Maloi’s voice rang out from the shore.

  “Wait! I’m coming with you!”

  Pungence halted mid-step, his colossal frame turning. His eyes narrowed.

  “You… you’re one of Gozay’s Spellbounds.”

  Maloi nodded firmly. “I was put in charge of the Princess. If she’s going, then so am I.”

  Irisa stepped forward, her silver eyes unwavering. “And I’m coming too. I’ll need a ride.”

  Pungence’s gaze lingered on them both, then he gave a curt nod. “Fine. Get in.”

  They boarded the Waver. Its metallic frame pulsed faintly with power, its runes awakening. But before anyone could settle—

  FWOOM.

  A ripple split the air, and out of thin space, Mr. Baby appeared inside the vessel.

  He brushed off his coat with lazy hands, then dropped into the seat like it was his own throne.

  “Eh, if unu leavin’, mi ridin’ too. Can’t believe dem cancel di whole ting—waste of mi blasted time, seen?”

  The entire Waver went still.

  Pungence’s shadow loomed over him, his massive frame blocking the cabin lights. His voice rumbled like distant thunder.

  “You really do have guts, don’t you?”

  Mr. Baby leaned back, smirk curling ‘pon his lips.

  “Mi know seh yuh nah lock mi up. Yuh nah wear di uniform — dat mean yuh off duty. Yeah man, mi do mi homework.” His eyes glinted wickedly as he tilted his head.

  “An’ if yuh try any foolishness—” he spread his arms wide, grin sharp as a blade, “—everybody in yah turn mi hostage.”

  For a moment, silence.

  Then—

  “Hahahaha!” Pungence’s laugh boomed, shaking the Waver walls. “Babies really do have no fear.”

  His mirth vanished in an instant, his eyes cold as steel. His voice was low, sharp as a blade.

  “Be careful. Because I can end you before you birth your next thought.”

  Before Mr. Baby could blink, Pungence moved. A flash of metal—CLACK!

  Vitalis suppression cuffs, inscribed with glowing runes, snapped around Mr. Baby’s neck.

  Mr. Baby’s smirk froze. “What—?” He tugged, eyes widening as his ability refused to answer his call.

  Pungence loomed above him, expression carved from stone.

  “Try using your ability in that.”

  For a heartbeat, silence. Then Mr. Baby exploded, thrashing in his seat.

  “Bomboclaat! Yuh serious, old man?!” he snarled, jerking his arms. “Yuh tink yuh bad ‘cause yuh put chain pon mi? Mi go lick down yuh bloodclaat one day, memba dat! Pussyclaat cuffs—tek dis off mi now!”

  His accent thickened with every curse, his smooth swagger collapsing into pure rage. He spat on the ground, eyes blazing.

  “Mi nah no blasted hostage, mi nah no toy fi Binding Hand! Pungence, mi swear pon mi madda grave—yuh gwan regret dis!”

  With that, the Titan turned away, striding to the helm. He lowered himself into the pilot’s seat, a massive helmet studded with glowing cables lowering over his head.

  The Waver hummed to life. Runes flared, engines roared.

  And with a thunderous surge, it lifted from the sand, cutting across the waves in a blur of speed—vanishing into the crimson horizon.

  ---

  To Be Continued...