The sun revealed its true colors, stripping the mainland of its shades.

Kneeling became meaningless before an absolute decision. Bent knees, one by one, forgot their purpose and accepted what had been lost.

The beads she left behind turned into alms of reluctant kindness, taken before the light permanently kissed their regrets.

Stalls reopened one by one. Merchants spoke in measured tones. Even children–usually careless at dawn–stayed close to their elders, watching more than playing. The land had not forgotten what had happened the day before, and no one dared pretend otherwise.

Hylisi stood at her doorway for a long moment before stepping outside.

The air was clear. Too clear.

Her gaze moved across the outskirts of the market, along stone paths and low roofs, and finally toward the forest line. Nothing threatened her openly. And yet, the silence felt heavier than noise.

She turned back inside.

Her son was watching from within. His eyes were cautious, roaming like a hungry beast, lingering on the powerless expressions of once-sturdy faces glimpsed through the window.

She walked to him and straightened his clothes, her movements careful, practiced.

"I'll be away for a while," she said gently. "Stay inside. Don't open the door for anyone."

He nodded without asking why.

Hylisi opened a wooden casket hidden beneath a floorboard. Inside, wrapped in layered cloth, were Golden Berry Beads she had gathered over time. Not many–never many–but enough. She closed the casket and carried it with her.

Outside, the treasure hunters were already preparing to move.

The Chief and Mu Long stood apart from the others, posture rigid and alert. Neither spoke when Hylisi approached. They only inclined their heads–acknowledgment without presumption.

"I'll guide you," Hylisi said simply. "As promised."

No one questioned it.

Hylisi stepped toward the forest edge without announcement.Within moments, her figure slipped between the trees, the wooden casket held close against her side. Leaves swallowed her presence, branches closing like a curtain drawn by habit.

No one followed.No one tried to see what she did there.

Some things were not meant to be watched.Some actions lost their meaning the moment they were observed.

While she was gone, movement stirred near her home.

The three leaders of the mainland stood together a short distance away, eyes fixed on the closed doorway as though judgment itself might emerge from within. Their expressions were composed, but calculation moved behind them like a second breath. After exchanging brief glances, they spoke in hushed tones.

Orders were given quietly.

Armed guards took position.

Not aggressive.Not overt.

But unmistakably present.

Steel caught the morning light at deliberate angles. Posture was disciplined, spacing precise–enough to signal vigilance without declaring hostility. This, they told themselves, was protection. This was responsibility.

A blessing–

if she were wise enough to accept it.

When Hylisi returned, the first thing she saw was steel.

Two guards stood near her door, weapons lowered but ready. Two more lingered farther back, placed to observe rather than intervene. Their expressions were neutral, trained to appear respectful while remaining unyielding.

Her steps slowed.

Then stopped.

She did not look at the guards first.Her gaze went straight to the three leaders.

"Who ordered this?" she asked.

Her voice was even. Too even.

One of the leaders stepped forward at once, bowing deeply. "Lady Hylisi, please do not misunderstand," he said quickly. "This is for your safety. After what happened yesterday, we felt it necessary to–"

"No."

The word cut cleanly through the air, severing the sentence before it could finish.

The leader hesitated, throat tightening. "We only wished to show sincerity," he pressed on carefully. "With the Great One present, the mainland has been blessed. If he would stay–rule–guide–"

She laughed once.

Not mockery.Not amusement.

Something colder.

"You think him a god," Hylisi said quietly. "So you believe gifts can buy favor."

Her eyes hardened, sharpening like glass under pressure.

"I told you yesterday," she continued, "cutting ties means a complete cut. I didn't say those words for effect. I didn't say them to negotiate."

She lifted her hand and pointed toward the guards.

"Remove them."

The leader swallowed. "Lady Hylisi, please. This is not hostility. This is protection."

She stepped closer, closing the distance until her presence pressed against their carefully arranged authority.

"So was your silence yesterday," she replied. "And I didn't survive that."

Her voice never rose.It did not need to.

"That child inside is my son," she said evenly. "He is not a symbol. He is not leverage. And he is not under your protection."

A brief pause followed, heavy and deliberate.

"No means no."

The guards shifted where they stood, uncertainty rippling through their formation. The leaders looked suddenly smaller, their confidence thinning under the weight of a refusal they could neither bend nor punish.

Slowly–

reluctantly–

the order was given.

The guards withdrew, steel retreating like a tide that had tested the land and failed. The space around her home emptied, leaving behind nothing but quiet and consequence.

For the first time since morning, the three leaders stood powerless.Not before a Patron.Not before authority.

But before a woman they could neither threaten nor command.

Hylisi turned away.

She did not look back at her house.She did not look back at them.

She walked toward the treasure hunters.

Only then did the absence become noticeable.

Her son was not with her.

No one asked.No one spoke.

Kiaria stood apart from the group, his expression unreadable, gaze resting somewhere beyond the mainland's edge. After a long moment, the three leaders gathered themselves and approached him, bowing so deeply their foreheads nearly touched the ground.

"Great One," one of them said, voice trembling despite his effort to remain composed. "If you would remain–if you would rule this mainland–prosperity and protection would follow. We would build temples. Offer tribute. Ensure–"

Kiaria did not answer.

His gaze shifted–not toward them, but toward the road leading away from the mainland, where dust met distance and choice became irreversible.

"I do not stay where obedience replaces thought," he said calmly.

The words were not loud.They did not need to be.

The leaders froze.

"I came," Kiaria continued, "because injustice crossed my path. I leave because correction has been made."

He turned slightly and looked at Hylisi.

"She will guide us."

No explanation.No blessing.

No denial of divinity–because he did not need to reject what he had never claimed.

The leaders bowed again, deeper this time.

Kiaria did not acknowledge it.

"Leave before I act," he said simply.

"As you wish," they replied in unison, bowing once more before retreating.

As they walked back toward their headquarters, one of them clenched his fists, irritation breaking through composure.

"…Damn it," he muttered. "The plan didn't work."

–

For several days now, Kiaria had carried a faint sense of unease.

Not danger.Not foresight.

Just the quiet irritation of something unfinished.

It lingered at the back of his mind as preparations continued, as tents were packed and routes discussed, as the treasure hunters moved with the practiced efficiency of those used to departure. And then–just before the final call to move–it surfaced.

"The octopus…"

The word escaped him under his breath.

"Halt."

His voice did not rise. It did not need to.

The command spread instantly through spiritual communication, flowing across the camp like a ripple through still water. Every movement froze. Conversations died mid-syllable. Packs halted half-lifted.

"I have an important matter to finish before we start our journey," Kiaria said calmly into their minds. "Wait. Until I say otherwise, no one steps out of their rooms."

Confusion stirred, but obedience followed without delay.

Inside the tent, Diala glanced up from what she was doing, brows lifting slightly. "What happened?" she asked. "Did we miss something?"

She was seated cross-legged, a shallow spatial bowl resting before her. Inside it swam a small fish, translucent scales catching faint hues of gold and blue. It was no ordinary creature.

A Heavenly Order Fish.

A pathfinder.

Wherever life and sustainability flourished, its body naturally oriented toward it. Where death, calamity, or massacre lingered, it turned away instinctively. Even as a fry, its sensitivity to balance was already evident.

Diala dipped her finger lightly, releasing a single drop of phoenix blood into the bowl. The fish darted eagerly, absorbing it. One drop per week–for now. When its adaptive threshold matured, dragon blood would be required to awaken its true pathfinder bloodline.

Kiaria watched the scene, then smiled faintly.

"Nothing serious," he said. "I just forgot to absorb the octopus essence."

Diala blinked.

"Oh. That thing?" she replied casually. "That wasn't an octopus."

Kiaria turned toward her. "It wasn't?"

"Nope." She shook her head. "That was a Spaghetti Unholy Evil Worm. Fallen creature. Cursed. It needs Yang essence to even stabilize its form."

"How do you know?" Kiaria asked.

Diala grinned. "Did you forget the books Aunt left me?"

She reached into her void ring and pulled out a thick, weathered volume, flipping through it with practiced familiarity. She stopped at a marked page and turned it toward him, illustrations and annotations crowding the parchment.

"See? Low-tier Fallen creature. Neither beast nor fish. Barely qualifies as a lifeform."

"Low-tier?" Kiaria echoed, genuinely surprised.

If that thing was considered low-tier…

Then the higher ones–

He cut the thought off before it spiraled.

"Oh, and there's a footnote," Diala added, tapping the margin. "It says if anyone tries to take advantage of it–essence, bloodline, refinement–they'll be cursed."

Kiaria stared at the page.

"…Advantage?"

Realization hit.

"Oh."

He leaned back slightly, exhaling through his nose. "So I wasted time and energy on something completely useless."

He paused, then muttered, "Essence wasted."

Diala burst into laughter.

"I told you to come with me," she said, barely holding it in. "We could've left together. But no–you didn't listen. And you broke your promise too. Completely your fault."

She spoke as though she stood above the Patron himself, but there was no arrogance in her tone–only playful victory.

"Ahem."

Kiaria cleared his throat, straightening. His expression shifted into forced composure.

"Don't tell this to Big Sister," he said quickly. "For her… she'll never let it go. She'll use it to scold me for the rest of my life."

Diala's grin widened dangerously.

"Huh," she said. "I'll tell her."

She turned, already halfway to the tent flap. "And I'll tell the brothers too. After we return."

Before he could respond, she was gone.

A moment later, laughter erupted behind the tent–unrestrained, uncontrollable, echoing freely once she confirmed no one else was nearby.

Kiaria sat alone, staring at the tent wall.

"…I'm doomed," he muttered. "Sister and Dia will celebrate this every time they get bored."

He inhaled deeply, steadying himself, then adjusted his tone.

"All right," he announced calmly through spiritual communication. "We're done here. Prepare to move. Align outside the camp."

Movement resumed at once.

Treasure hunters gathered in formation. Princess Lainsa stepped out, stretching lightly, while Diala emerged beside Hylisi. The morning light caught faintly on the bangles at Hylisi's wrists as she moved.

She walked toward the Chief and stopped beside him, standing not behind, not ahead–simply beside.

"Before we leave the mainland," Hylisi said quietly to him, "we must pass through the Mainland Guardian Association."

The Chief nodded, listening intently.

"Without their approval, none of us can leave," she continued. "What lies beyond is not ordinary land. Ruins. Untouched forbidden territories. Once we cross that line, turning back will not be simple."

The formation adjusted.

And then they moved.

As the treasure hunters departed the mainland's merchandise village, whispers followed them. Not curses. Not rebellion.

Regret.

Hylisi walked at the front, her steps steady, her posture unyielding. The bangles at her wrists caught the light with each movement, faint but constant.

She did not look back.

Behind her, the mainland stood silent.

And for the first time, it understood the difference between being ruled–

and being left to bear the consequences of its own choices.

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