Chapter 2: Landfall

  As the ship neared its destination, it began to descend, leaving its drifting state behind. The creature shifted, no longer simply carried by the current, but actively swimming through the air.

  The captain’s demeanor changed with it. His relaxed posture vanished, his posture straightened, hands tightening around the two leather straps that served as the vessel’s only controls. He moved them carefully, measured and patient, as the creature beneath listened more than it obeyed.

  The captain was looking toward the port and the surrounding waters, when the communication device stirred to life. A triangular crystal the color of deep water shimmered faintly as it received the signal.

  A female voice came through, calm and professional.

  “The landing zone is prepared. Please reduce drift and follow the guides to the usual dock.”

  “Thank you, Margaret,” the captain replied, his tone casual, as if speaking to someone he knew well.

  Moments later, two smaller Sky Rays emerged from the harbor, each bearing a single rider equipped with guiding harnesses and signal flags. They circled once before taking position along the larger creature’s flank, their movements deliberate and precise.

  The massive ray responded immediately, adjusting its fins as it slipped fully out of the current. Guided by the smaller rays, it descended steadily toward the water, its motion controlled now no longer drifting, but swimming with intent.

  Meliodas watched the procedure with quiet fascination. Back home, landings were far simpler, he thought. You came down wherever the sea allowed, no guides, no coordination, just open water and trust.

  The captain tapped the triangular crystal and spoke evenly.

  “Attention, all passengers. Please prepare for landing.”

  He turned toward Meliodas, his gaze settled more pointedly on Gilbert, who was standing behind Meliodas and near the doorway.

  “Gilbert,” the captain added.

  Gilbert immediately reached for the nearest railing, bracing himself. Meliodas didn’t bother, he didn’t really need the warning.

  As the Sky Ray touched the water, the splash it produced was something to behold, impressive, but not frightening. The cabin shook on impact, enough to unbalance anyone who wasn’t prepared, though not violently enough to cause injury.

  Gilbert was not so fortunate. He was tossed forward and landed face first on the floor.

  Meliodas remained perfectly still, as if nothing had happened at all. When he looked down and saw Gilbert sprawled on the ground, he immediately moved to help him up.

  “Gilbert, are you all right?” Meliodas asked, placing a steady hand on his torso and back as he helped him sit up.

  “Nothing to worry about, Master Meliodas,” Gilbert replied, even as blood began to trickle from his nose.

  “I warned you,” the captain called out, not turning as he slowly guided the Sky Ray through the water toward the designated dock.

  Meliodas reached into his pocket and pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief, offering it to Gilbert.

  “Don’t trouble yourself, Master Meliodas,” Gilbert said automatically.

  “Gilbert,” Meliodas insisted.

  As they rose to their feet, Meliodas gently wiped the blood from Gilbert’s face and pressed the handkerchief into his hand.

  “Thank you, Master Meliodas. Always so considerate, your mother raised you well,” Gilbert said. “I’ll wash this and return it to you before you leave.”

  “Gilbert, don’t worry about—” Meliodas began.

  He didn’t finish the sentence. Gilbert was already hurrying down the stairs, moving with surprising urgency despite the blood still drying beneath his nose.

  Meliodas shook his head and turned toward the window. To his surprise, the vessel had already reached its destination. Ahead, a small city, if it could be called that, came into view along the coast.

  “That was rather fast, Captain.”

  “Master Meliodas,” the captain replied with a hint of pride, “when you’ve flown the same route for nearly twenty years, two or three times a year, it would be an insult to my skills if it weren’t.”

  The captain turned and addressed the passengers through the crystal artifact.

  “You will be able to disembark in five minutes. Please proceed as instructed, and make sure you haven’t left any belongings behind. We will not be responsible for items left on board.”

  He then turned back to Meliodas.

  “You’ll have to wait, Master Meliodas. It’s standard procedure for you to disembark last, once the crew is ready to receive you.”

  “Oh, don’t worry about it, Cap—”

  “Master Meliodas,” the captain interrupted, his tone firm now. “These are direct orders from the Patriarch. Please do not intervene.”

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  Meliodas paused, then sighed.

  “Fine,” he said, knowing there was no point arguing further.

  After the last passenger had disembarked, Meliodas remained seated on one of the surprisingly comfortable couches scattered throughout the main hall. He had meant to get a drink, but the bartender was nowhere to be found. Instead, he sat there, restless and lost in thought, until he felt a light touch on his shoulder.

  “Young master, we’re ready. If you would please follow me,” one of the crew members said.

  He blinked, pulled back into the moment, then looked up at her.

  “Hey aren’t you the bartender? I was looking for you earlier.”

  She gave a small, apologetic smile. “Sorry, young master. I was busy organizing the passengers. We’re a bit understaffed today.”

  Meliodas opened his mouth to correct her, then stopped. He didn’t know her name, and they weren’t close enough for it to matter.

  “Right,” he said, rising to his feet. “Lead the way.”

  As Meliodas followed the rather good looking bartender, down the main hall, his heart began to race with a mix of excitement and nervous energy. When they reached the doorway, he slowed without realizing it.

  Two guards stood outside, clad in chain mail with swords resting at their hips. Over the armor they wore blue robes that draped from shoulder to foot, covering the metal beneath. At the center of each robe, both front and back, was the familiar turtle shell emblem.

  They held two flags crossed diagonally, forming a clear passage through the doorway. The fabric rippled softly in the wind, the same emblem displayed upon them, the wave-like patterns seeming almost alive as they shifted.

  As Meliodas passed through the doorway, the guards turned toward him and bowed in unison.

  “Good luck, young master.”

  “Thank you,” Meliodas replied, a faint flush rising to his cheeks against his olive skin.

  He stepped beyond them, closed his eyes, and paused, drawing in a deep breath. The familiar scent of the ocean filled his lungs. Waves broke somewhere below, distant birds cried out, and the steady brush of wind moved against his skin.

  He opened his eyes to see a stairway leading down to a simple wooden dock. The steps were lined with an ocean-blue carpet, its fabric secured neatly along the stairs. Crew members stood at intervals along the stairway not covering every step, but enough to mark the descent as formal despite the vessel’s modest size.

  At the bottom, he spotted the captain, Gilbert, and a woman he didn’t recognize, all waiting for him to come down.

  Father… Meliodas thought, a hint of exasperation creeping in. I specifically told you not to do this.

  For just a moment, an image surfaced in his mind, his father nodding solemnly, then breaking into a grin and giving him an unapologetic thumbs-up.

  He started down the stairs. As he passed each crew member, they offered a slight bow and a quiet wish of good luck. By the time he reached the bottom, the gestures felt almost rhythmical.

  The captain stepped forward, bowed once, then grasped Meliodas’ hand in a firm shake.

  “Good luck, Master Meliodas.”

  The woman stepped forward and spoke. She was tall and clearly older, her dark hair streaked with white and faint lines beginning to show at the corners of her eyes. Before saying anything, she offered him a respectful bow.

  “Young Master Meliodas. My name is Margaret. I’m in charge of the docks.”

  She straightened and gestured lightly toward the island behind her.

  “I’m here to give you further instructions on how to reach the main island complex from our humble island, Hollowreach. The route is simple, you’ll need to cross Main Street. You won’t miss it; it’s the only real street on the island. From there, continue to the port on the opposite side.”

  She paused, then added with a small, apologetic smile, “The only issue is that you’ve arrived a bit earlier than expected.”

  Margaret glanced toward the captain. He crossed his arms and lifted his shoulders in a small shrug.

  “If you wish to pass the time,” Margaret continued, “I would recommend a tavern called the broken fin. It’s only a short walk from here, located along the main street. There should be a sign signaling the tavern. If you’d like, I can accompany you.”

  “Don’t worry about it,” Meliodas replied a little too quickly.

  “As you wish, Young Master,” she said without offense. “Your transport to the main island complex should arrive in approximately three hours around four o’clock.”

  Meliodas turned to Gilbert and saw tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

  “Gilbert… we talked about this,” Meliodas said gently. “I’ll write. And it’s only for a year or two.”

  “I know, Young Master,” Gilbert replied, wiping at his eyes with a familiar handkerchief. “It’s just… you’ve grown so splendidly. Who would have thought I’d be standing here, saying goodbye to such a fine young man? It feels like only yesterday the Patriarch brought you to our lands. You were so small then…. so frighte—.”

  “Gilbert,” Meliodas cut in quickly, a hint of embarrassment creeping into his voice.

  The others laughed softly.

  “I’m sorry, Master Meliodas,” Gilbert said again.

  “Please,” Meliodas replied, his voice quieter now. “Just this once, call me Meliodas.”

  Gilbert hesitated, then nodded. “Meliodas… please don’t forget to write. I’ll be waiting for your letters.”

  Then, as if something had just occurred to him, his eyes widened slightly. “Oh, your handkerchief.”

  “Don’t worry about it, Gilbert,” Meliodas said. “And… Thank you. For everything.”

  He offered him a small, sad smile, then turned away, facing the modest city of Hollowreach as the sea breeze brushed past him.

  Meliodas took a deep breath and broke into a run toward the city. Halfway across the dock, he glanced back and lifted a hand in farewell. The captain had an arm around Gilbert’s shoulders, murmuring something he couldn’t hear. They waved back, and Meliodas faced forward again, running until the dock fell away behind him.

  After reaching the end of the wooden dock, Meliodas noticed a small canoe-like boat pulling in. It had a simple palm-leaf roof built over it for shade, and a fisherman was climbing out with a look that suggested the day had not gone particularly well.

  “Good day,” Meliodas said, lifting a hand in greeting.

  Herman stopped and looked at him, clearly caught off guard.

  “Ehhh… hi,” he replied after a moment, giving a small, uncertain wave.

  A noble talking to me? What a strange lad, Herman thought, before turning back to his boat, already dismissing the encounter as one of those odd moments best not questioned.

  Meliodas turned his gaze back toward the sea. The Sky Ray rested calmly on the water, its pale hull and rust catching the sunlight. Gilbert and the others were already hard to make out, reduced to small figures near the vessel as distance grew between them.

  He shifted his attention to the island itself. It curved inward, forming an almost complete ring around the bay, stone and jungle enclosing the water like a natural harbor. The coastline wrapped protectively around the sea, broken only by a narrow opening where ships passed through, leaving the waters within calm compared to the open ocean beyond.

  Along the shoreline, buildings clustered wherever the land allowed. Most were simple wooden structures reinforced with palm beams and woven supports, their roofs layered with palm leaves, weathered by salt and wind after years of exposure to the sea. They were practical constructions, built for function rather than appearance, their designs shaped by necessity more than comfort.

  The bay itself was rather busy. Small fishing vessels and canoe-like boats with palm-leaf roofs drifted across the sheltered water, nets laid out to dry or pulled in by hand. Among them, a few larger ships stood out, broader and sturdier, built for deeper waters and longer journeys rather than daily harvests.

  The sight reminded Meliodas of home not in shape or style, but in purpose. Shelters and vessels alike were made to endure, not to impress.

  Meliodas lingered at the edge of the dock, lost in thought. He felt a quiet excitement settle in his chest as the realization took hold for the first time in his life, he was truly alone. No guards. No escorts. No expectations tied to his name. Just another traveler standing at the edge of the world.

  And in that moment, he felt free.