"I was barely 13 when my father’s ship was attacked by a royal fleet. Cannons tore through the wood like paper, fire spreading everywhere."
Nox listened with a serious look on his face. It felt as if he could picture everything in his head—the fire, the screams, and the wreckage.
Dorran’s voice cracked with emotion. This was a sensitive topic, one he didn’t like sharing frequently, as it always triggered old wounds he had been trying to cover up.
"That day, he had just given up his weapons and swore to the king of the Vermilion Kingdom that he would turn away from the life of a pirate," he continued. "All the treasures he had hoarded over the years, he returned every single one to the king and made peace with his enemies, compensating them for any wrongs he had done."
"Why..." Nox asked, his eyes flashing with genuine curiosity. "Why try to turn a new leaf after going so deep?"
His previous world, Earth, was a brutal place, and Eos was even more brutal. You couldn’t just bring pain to people and then try to change, expecting them to forget about it so easily.
"Because of and... my mother," Dorran replied. "He didn’t want to grow up on the seas like him... like his deceased brothers... like his father, grandfather, and great-grandfather."
A generation of pirates, huh...
"However, things beca ssy real quick. After handing over his arms and treasures to the king, he thought they would let him go—and they did... at least, they gave him that impression.
"For the next couple of years, we lived near the seashore close to a remote village. Father was very good with the hook, you see. Whenever he went to the sea, he always brought exotic fish, not only for us but for the villagers. With his experience, he would fight off pirates who tried to attack rchant ships, earning the nickna... Protector of the Seas."
---
Within the seas of the Vermilion Kingdom, a raid was currently underway. A rchant ship had been surrounded by a small pirate vessel, its goods and won being offloaded.
The deck was filled with pained, panicked screams of those aboard. Yet the ugly-looking pirates seed to be having the ti of their lives, wide crooked smiles stretching across their faces.
Not far from the ongoing raid, a small ship inched closer. A tall black-haired man stood aboard, Samoan-style tattoos running along his arms and neck. His piercing brown eyes scanned the scene.
"Another one... this is like the third today," he muttered, eyes reflecting the chaos.
"And that seems to be a ship from Snowhelm." He quickly discerned the frost insignia on the white flag.
His gaze narrowed. From his position, he saw pirates stomping on the heads of those who tried to fight back—n, won, even children.
"This is bad... these guys are even crueler than the previous two. At this pace, they might kill everyone on board."
Thinking this, he hurried to the control room and sped up the ship.
"Yo, what’s that?" one of the pirates squinted, spotting the vessel heading toward them.
The man beside him quickly retrieved a telescope and looked through it. When he saw the tall, handso man’s face, his expression paled as he stumbled back.
"What is it? What did you see?" his friend frowned. Receiving no answer, he grabbed the telescope and looked for himself.
"Oh, shit!" All the blood drained from his face as he recognized the man approaching.
"Alert the leader! That dog nad Kieran is coming toward us!" he shouted at the top of his voice. The mont the others heard the na, cold shivers ran down their spines.
"What did you say? Repeat that?" The pirate leader—a slim man so frail it seed even the breeze could carry him away—trembled.
"That dog Kieran is upon us!" the pirate repeated, voice shaking.
The mont the na left his lips, the deck of the ship turned deathly silent. Even those laughing while plundering froze mid-act.
The leader’s thin lips quivered. "Impossible... why would he be here?!"
A sudden wave crashed against the hull, and in the next mont, the black-haired man’s ship ramd into theirs with a loud BANG! Wood cracked, n stumbled, and before they could react, the man leapt onto their deck.
Kieran... he was a monster in human skin. His blade moved like lightning, each swing dropping another body.
"Run—no, fight back!" the leader scread, but his n were already breaking. So tried leaping into the sea, others charged, but all ended up dead.
One brute swung an axe with a roar. CLANG! Sparks scattered as Kieran parried, tattoos flaring faintly. He twisted, drove his elbow into the man’s jaw, breaking it clean. The axe wielder toppled like a sack of at.
---
Back in the castle, Dorran’s voice lowered as he finished.
"That’s who my father was," he said bitterly. "The man everyone feared. Protector to so, butcher to others. And yet... even after everything, he always ca ho with a smile, pretending he was just a fisherman."
Nox’s expression was unreadable, but he was deep in thought, fingers brushing his chin as he mulled over everything. The story painted a picture of a man who had lived two lives—one drenched in blood, and another desperately trying to be clean. It was strange, almost ironic. A man who had terrorized the seas could also be rembered as a savior by those who never knew his past.
A man feared by all, but still smiling when he went ho... sounds almost too human for a monster, Nox reflected silently. He understood, though. In both his past world and in Eos, strength always ca with contradictions. Heroes were villains to soone else. And no matter how many people you saved, the sins you once carried never truly vanished.
There was silence between them for a while. Then Nox tilted his head and, in a low heavy tone, asked:
"So tell , Dorran... how did he die?"
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