The rest of the morning was pure chaos. The first wave of boats heading for Sylvarus was leaving at noon, and half the city seemed determined to be on them.

  Elena pulled me aside with a serious expression, which meant bad news. She wouldn't be able to watch the tournament—she and the Hunters had a job to do. The competition was open to anyone who placed high enough, but eliminated Hunters had to return immediately.

  I'd assumed the number would be high, but only about forty Hunters had actually registered. Most of the competitors were Maris's people from the island.

  "Since the tournament's at Sylvarus, I won't even be needed," Elena said, though something in her tone suggested she wasn't entirely happy about missing it. "The staff there have things under control. Plus, if anyone steps out of line, Diana will handle it."

  Diana would probably

  handling it.

  After a quick stop at the Citadel to grab our armor, Cass slung a pack over her shoulder and grabbed her swords. Chas whisked us away to the harbor like we were late for the most important exam of our lives.

  I took a quick detour, and Cass joined me the moment she figured out what I was doing. Cyrus's shop was packed, but when he saw us, he waved us over with a grin.

  Three Class-E healing potions and half a dozen pills of the same tier nearly cleaned me out. We said our goodbyes, and as we started our dash through the city to catch up with Chas, people in the shop called out well-wishes for the tournament.

  The gesture hit harder than I expected. These people actually cared.

  The docks felt like an airport during holiday travel—crowds moved in every direction, waited in endless lines, and passed through stations staffed by black-robed officials. Others, dressed in green outfits with runic bracers, stood further down. Sylvarus staff, I guessed.

  Half the city wanted to watch the tournament, but unless you were competing, passage to the school wasn't cheap. I was still debating what to do with Red when everyone around me said at the same time that he could compete alongside me.

  That was a refreshing surprise.

  For a dog, he seemed way too eager to get onto a boat. But I wasn't sure I wanted him actually fighting in the tournament. Magical or not, I didn't want him getting hurt.

  Chas and Lana did their best to round up as many Hunters as they could onto the same boat, which was great. The process itself was simple—we placed our hands on manascripts, they got stamped, and we were free to board.

  I really need to learn more about those things.

  What caught me completely off guard was Katie. She'd been trailing us the entire time, waiting for her moment. Without hesitation, she strode up to the counter, reached into her bag—and slapped a massive stack of red coins onto the counter.

  The Sentarian clerk nearly jumped out of his skin.

  "Not a chance I'm missing this," she declared with the authority of someone who'd just bought the boat.

  The Sentarian hesitated, counted them all out, then handed half the pile back, looking vaguely confused by her wealth.

  Before I knew it, I was aboard a sleek ship slicing through the ocean at breakneck speed.

  The boat didn't even have sails. It reminded me of a military superyacht—all efficiency, zero comfort. The hull was lined with brass pipes, the deck practically bare, like someone had stripped everything unnecessary. Below deck felt like a submarine, all narrow corridors and cramped rooms.

  Since this was my first time leaving La-Roc, I'd planted myself at the front of the boat after spending too much time below deck feeling claustrophobic. I leaned over the rails, letting the wind assault me as we cut through the water.

  We had to be doing over a hundred kilometers an hour, but I didn't care. The sky was clear, the water sparkled, and the rush of speed was pure adrenaline.

  Surprisingly, no one else joined me on deck. Everyone had their excuses, but I could tell the real reason—most of my friends were handling the motion about as well as a bag of wet cement. Erik in particular looked a concerning shade of green.

  Made sense. While La-Roc had plenty of boats coming and going, most people didn't actually travel. Elizabeth had mentioned people leaving the island, but it wasn't common.

  Red, on the other hand, was thriving. He pranced around the deck as if he'd been born for this, tugging at a rope tied to a pole like he was trying to pull the boat forward faster. Another moment where I was sure there was more to him than I understood. He wasn't just comfortable—he actually seemed to enjoy the ride.

  More than once, he hopped up onto the railing with his front paws, staring out over the ocean like he was silently asking, "Are we there yet?"

  Suddenly, his demeanor shifted. He stopped dead, ears pinned back.

  I sensed them before they even stepped onto the deck, but Red let out a low rumble that killed his playful mood instantly.

  Leaning on the railing, staring out at the endless ocean, I didn't react as three people I didn't recognize exited onto the deck. One lingered by the door like a guard. The other two approached with all the stealth of toddlers sneaking snacks.

  "The Archon will reward us handsomely if we ensure he can't fight," one muttered, his voice deeper than I'd expected.

  "This is not a good idea, Elliot," the other replied, sounding far less convinced. "He put down Jenny—and that was before his Seal."

  "He got lucky," Elliot shot back. "Doesn't look that scary."

  Red pressed against my leg, settling beside me while keeping a watchful eye behind us. Meanwhile, I kept staring at the water, really not in the mood to fight two idiots before the tournament even started.

  If Maris's people wanted to make a move, it was interesting they hadn't done it in La-Roc. Maybe they felt empowered by our isolation on the boat.

  Disregarding the dozens of Hunters below deck, of course.

  "You should listen to your friend, Elliot," I called, still not bothering to look at them. "This really is a stupid idea."

  They froze about ten meters away.

  Casually, I turned, leaning back on the railing as I gave them a once-over.

  Elliot was exactly what I expected—a huge, balding Gaian with elaborate face tattoos. Black robes hung open like a jacket, revealing black leather armor underneath.

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  His partner was a Carmintree Floran. Red skin, long grassy white hair, and an excessive number of golden piercings lining their ears and face.

  I raised an eyebrow as they renewed their approach.

  "What do you think is going to happen here?" I asked conversationally. "Assuming I don't kick your asses and you somehow succeed in whatever dumbass plan this is, there are dozens of Hunters below deck—including Chas Blackwood. And this boat? It's headed for Sylvarus, where your leader and my Mentor—also an Archon, by the way—are preparing for a tournament."

  I tilted my head. "Do you honestly think everyone's just going to sit around and say, 'well, that's unfortunate,' and not immediately throw you into the ocean? Just wait for the tournament. You'll get your chance."

  This seemed to mollify the Carmintree, but Elliot doubled down with a disgusting smirk. His teeth were jagged, like he'd been hit in the face with a bat one too many times.

  "We got just as many on board, Unbidden," he said, pulling on studded leather gloves.

  The word hit me like a slap. I hadn't been called that since my first night on Ark, and now I wanted to kick their asses for it.

  The Carmintree sighed and removed their robes, revealing a harnessed leather spaulder and tank top connected to a long studded gauntlet. Their midsection was absolutely shredded with muscle.

  Right. Maris was the leader of the Strikers, so these two were straight-up fighters—not Monster Hunters.

  I pushed off the railing, but before I could step forward, Red huffed and walked ahead, planting himself between us. His back fur bristled, gaze locked onto the Strikers. He wasn't growling or baring teeth, just rumbling—a deep, steady vibration like that alone would be enough.

  "Oh, sending your familiar forward?" Elliot guffawed. "He's scared to fight us, Francis."

  I laughed internally. I still had no idea if Francis was male, female, both, or neither. Plant people were confusing.

  Francis, however, eyed Red warily. "That's the one that messed with Jenny's knife. Some caution would be prudent."

  Red's fur rippled with energy like he was about to dash—but he tilted his head back toward me, something like reassurance in his eyes.

  I thought back to all the times he'd surprised me. If we were going to fight together in this tournament, I needed to trust he could handle himself. But against two Seeker-level Strikers?

  Then I felt something—like a tap against my mana pathways. Not a command, just a nudge. It spread across my body, eerily similar to when I infused mana into an object.

  I didn't hesitate. I let my mana flow where it was being led, and instantly, Red's fur brightened. His eyes sparkled with happiness.

  For the first time, I knew exactly what he was thinking. Not through words or telepathy like Stanley, but through a pure understanding of his behavior.

  His look said it all.

  A grin stretched across my face. I had no idea what this meant, but something had shifted. Like Red had finally, truly, accepted me as his person.

  Warmth filled my chest, and I leaned back on the railing, making a casual gesture. "That's Red. He's my dog. And I'm pretty sure he's about to kick your asses."

  Elliot laughed and stepped forward. "Not the first time I've—"

  Before he could finish, Red's fur exploded into a wild orange aura like living fire. White-hot jagged runes crept up his body, glowing with searing intensity. The air rippled, the deck vibrated with raw pressure, and the boat groaned in response.

  Then, with a flick of his tail, everything shifted.

  Another tail appeared. Then another. And another. Until there were seven of them, flickering with power.

  My reaction was nothing compared to the two Strikers.

  "W-what the fuck!?" Elliot roared, stumbling backward. "That's... What kind of mana beast is that!?"

  I almost missed it. Red blurred—so fast he left an afterimage. Elliot went flying back the way they'd come, launched by Red's back legs connecting with his chest in an explosion of heat. In an instant, Red was where the big man had been, now facing Francis, who already had their hands up.

  "Fuck no. Out of my league," they said, nodding with determined surrender before jogging after Elliot, who was being helped up by their third.

  Just like that, Red was a dog again, trotting back to me with his tongue hanging out like he hadn't just turned into some kind of mythical beast. The aura, runes, and extra tails were gone like they'd never existed.

  "That was the coolest fuckin' thing I've ever seen. My boy Red is way cooler than you,

  Once I was sure the Strikers were gone, I crouched down, narrowing my eyes at Red.

  "I knew you weren't a normal dog," I muttered. "I just knew it."

  Red shot me a confused look that practically screamed,

  "Dogs don't have seven tails. And what was that aura? What are you, some kind of Huli Jing?"

  He cocked his head, ears pressed forward, the picture of innocence.

  I reached out and scratched behind his ears. He panted happily, leaning into me like he was afraid I'd suddenly change my mind about him.

  "You're a weird animal is what you are," I said, shaking my head. "With a bunch of tails. And fire magic. Nothing to worry about."

  I was pretty sure he rolled his eyes at me.

  Cass and Katie came rushing up to the deck, half a dozen Hunters flanking them like they were expecting war.

  "What's going on? One of Maris's Strikers was screaming about a monster on board," Cass said, incredulous.

  I patted Red's side. "Yeah, they tried to take me out before the tournament. Red got a little... protective."

  Katie cooed at Red, dropping to his level for a full-body scratch. "Stupid Strikers," she murmured affectionately. "You're not a monster, are you? Ah—!"

  Red bowled her over, pinning her to the deck as he assaulted her with licks, barely letting her catch a breath between bursts of laughter.

  Cass, meanwhile, was giving me a hard look that I caved under almost immediately.

  "I... may have been a bit careless. Didn't think anyone would be bold enough to make a move on the boat."

  "Bold?" Cass snorted. "Stupid is more like it. Chas is gonna beat them with their own fists. But we aren't on La-Roc anymore—we have to stick together."

  I nodded, laughing at the mental image as the Hunters retreated below deck.

  Eventually, Katie pushed Red off her, wiping her face. "How long is this boat ride, anyway? Feels like we've been moving for hours."

  "Chas said we'll be there this afternoon... so maybe a few more?" Cass offered.

  Katie groaned. "I should've brought more supplies. I was too rushed—no one has much but stale water and dry bread. Which is a fucking travesty, honestly. If the bakery was still standing, I could've brought everything."

  I blinked, the words not fully registering at first. Then it hit me. "Oh fuck, your bakery." I frowned. "I mean, it makes sense, but I didn't really think about it being... right in the path. That must be tough."

  To my surprise, Katie smiled—actually smiled—and Cass laughed.

  "Oh, it's not a big deal. This is what... the tenth time it's been at least partially destroyed?" Katie said. "And it'll take more than a stupid boat to break my great-grandmother's oven. Bigger things have tried."

  Even Red looked vaguely dismayed at that.

  "Ten times!?" I blurted.

  Katie nodded. "My great-grandmother built it a long time ago when La-Roc had way more people. The building changes, but the oven stays the same. No one's even figured out how to move it, so we just build around it. One time, Carlos..." She hesitated at her late husband's name. "He tried to dig down to figure out why, and it turns out it's actually part of the base rock of the island—like it's fused to the land itself."

  I looked at Cass, then back at Katie. "No one thinks that's weird?"

  Katie shrugged. "A lot of things are part of the island."

  "The statue in the Tower courtyard—the one of Gaius? I think that one goes all the way down," Cass added.

  "How—okay, how the fuck am I just finding this out now? I saw the path of the boat carved through the city. The smooth stone underneath. Is the entire island like that?"

  We entered the mess hall to find Chas and Erik already seated at a table.

  "At least a good portion is," Chas chimed in helpfully. "The old pathways are made of incredibly hard stone. It's where people retreated during the Abyssal Emperor's attack way back when."

  "The Class-B Sea Serpent?" I asked.

  Chas nodded, and I sighed. "Of course I learn all this cool stuff after I leave the island for the first time."

  Absentmindedly, I reached into my soul-space and pulled out my still-steaming mug of coffee from this morning, taking a slow sip. Magical storage was the best.

  Chas froze mid-sentence, then practically lunged across the table. "Is that fucking canephora? Gods, it smells incredible. Do you have more? Can I have some?"

  I froze mid-sip as Valor alerted me that just about everyone within earshot—including Maris's people—was now staring at me like a pack of drooling zombies.

  "Oh, I'll take some too!" Katie said excitedly.

  "Uh... We call it coffee where I come from," I said cautiously, suddenly feeling like I was in possession of dangerous contraband.

  "You can call it whatever the fuck you want if you have more," Chas said, practically vibrating with desperation. "The fucking Sentarians bought out all the merchants the moment they set up shop. I'm so sick of tea. And they didn't have it off-world last week."

  The sheer longing in his voice was something I could deeply empathize with.

  "Calm down, you junkies," I said with a grin, eyeing everyone around us.

  Casually, I dropped a sack of roasted beans and the contraption I'd put together this morning onto the table from my soul-space.

  "I'm gonna need some fresh water."