The Roseldt region was a desolate place, rarely touched by humanity.
It was a haven for treasure hunters and thrill-seekers looking to strike gold in the uncharted wild, but it was far from a paradise.
Coconut palms stood firm against the relentless gales, their fronds unyielding.
The shoreline was a harsh mix of scorched brown sand and churning, violent surf.
Tiny crabs scurried incessantly across the beach, their claws clicking as they scavenged for morsels of food or broken shells.
Scattered along the tide line were rotting coconuts and shattered coral, debris left behind by the merciless tides.
Warning signs had been hammered into the dunes—some tied with heavy, triple-knotted ropes—all bearing the same ominous message: ‘Beware the tides.
Sirens will drag you into the depths should you wander too close.’
“Finally!
We’ve reached the sea!” a young man with bright blue hair shouted, his voice ringing out over the roar of the ocean.
A party of five adventurers sprinted toward the coast, their faces lighting up as they breathed in the salt-heavy air.
They didn’t seem to care about the warning signs; to them, this was nothing more than a vacation spot.
The group was an eclectic mix: the blue-haired leader, a bald man with a sparse beard, a slender fellow with a white-dyed Mohawk, a young man with wavy pink hair, and a bespectacled youth with blue hair.
“We finally made it, Damon!” the bald man exclaimed, beaming.
Damon, the blue-haired leader, rolled his eyes.
“You’ve been talking about nothing but the ocean for days.
Are you really that obsessed with getting your feet wet?”
“It’s not just the water!” the bald man countered, grinning lecherously.
“I want to be lured into the waves by a siren’s lullaby.
You know, the beautiful, captivating kind with… generous assets.”
Two of the women in the party, Emily and Christa, exchanged a look of pure disgust.
“Gross,” Emily muttered.
“Honestly, he’s shameless,” Christa added, shaking her head.
The bald man pouted, muttering under his breath as he was put in his place.
Meanwhile, Damon and the white-Mohawk adventurer stood by the water’s edge, watching the waves crash with terrifying intensity.
The weather had been unpredictable for two days—likely the result of wild magic or the interference of the New Gods.
Fierce cyclones had shredded the local flora, and monsters had been driven up from the depths to terrorize the non-human races that called this region home.
The beach was littered with the evidence: strange, clawed footprints and the unclaimed remains of creatures that had fallen prey to the chaos.
In Roseldt, non-humans lived in a precarious social hierarchy.
Some worked as laborers, others as slaves, and those who tried to run their own businesses found it nearly impossible.
Without strong connections to the dominant factions, their ventures rarely survived.
“Hey,” the bald man said, breaking the tension.
“Why don’t we check the loot we pulled from that labyrinth?”
“Good idea,” Damon agreed, turning to the women.
“Christa, Emily—are you two interested?”
Both women flushed instantly, their faces turning deep shades of crimson.
They trembled, their voices catching in their throats as they looked away, suddenly shy.
The men exchanged knowing smirks.
“O-of course,” Emily stammered, casting a nervous glance at Damon.
“It’s not that I don’t want to,” Christa added quickly.
“I’m just… curious about what we managed to snag from the deep levels.”
“They’re definitely in love,” Leo whispered.
“Agreed.” The Mohawk-haired man nodded.
“What are you two talking about?” Damon asked, clearly oblivious to the shift in mood.
Suddenly, the air between the two women turned electric.
Emily and Christa glared at each other, their respective auras flaring—one radiating the pressure of a dragon, the other the ferocity of a tiger.
The men took an instinctive step back, cowed by the sheer intensity of the girls’ rivalry.
Leo and the Mohawk-haired man (whose name was Albert) watched Damon with deep envy.
He was a knight, charismatic and handsome, with women constantly orbiting him.
“I’m so jealous, Al,” Leo whined, biting his knuckles.
“Me too.
Let’s get back at that handsome devil,” Albert growled.
Damon remained clueless, completely oblivious to the brewing resentment.
The party took a moment to just breathe in the view.
They were exhausted after a long escort mission to Roseldt.
They were currently ranked in the ‘Yellow’ tier, but they were desperate to climb to ‘Green.’ It was a grueling path, but one they were determined to walk.
The ocean began to churn.
A massive swell, easily six meters high, rose from the depths and slammed into the shore.
The adventurers were drenched, scrambling for higher ground, but as the water receded, they stopped dead in their tracks.
Their awe-struck eyes were fixed on the horizon.
A gargantuan iron vessel was floating atop the waves.
It was massive—dwarfing any ship they had ever seen.
Black smoke billowed from its stern, and the group instinctively dove behind a jagged rock formation to hide.
“Stay low!” Leo hissed.
The party huddled, weapons drawn, peering through the gaps in the stone.
A circular hatch atop the ship hissed open.
What they saw next stunned them: a hatch reinforced with strange, crimson-colored metal inscribed with indecipherable symbols.
An old man stood on the deck, accompanied by… something else.
It didn’t look human, nor was it an elf, dwarf, or any non-human race they had ever encountered.
“AI!
Scan them immediately!” the old man barked.
“Affirmative!
Executing order!”
Leo and his companions recognized the name ‘Vladimir’ from the rumors they’d heard, but before they could react, a voice boomed from the shadows.
They had been spotted.
Vladimir stood on the deck, aiming a long-range weapon directly at their hiding spot.
“Show yourselves.
Make one wrong move, and I’ll put you all in the ground,” he commanded, his voice cold and commanding.
The adventurers stumbled out, hands raised.
Leo stepped forward, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity despite the weapon leveled at his heart.
“Please, sir!
We mean you no harm.”
Vladimir didn’t flinch.
His grip on the firearm remained rock-steady, his eyes as sharp and predatory as a hawk’s.
“You have ten seconds to explain yourselves before I end this.”
The waves continued to crash against the ship’s hull, the spray misting the beach.
The party felt the weight of Vladimir’s intent—it wasn’t just a threat; it was a promise.
The sheer pressure of his aura made their skin crawl.
“We just finished a dungeon crawl!” Leo pleaded.
“We were just here to enjoy the beach.
We had no idea a ship would be surfacing here!”
Slowly, Vladimir lowered the weapon, though his guard didn’t drop.
He stripped off his military-style jacket, revealing an undershirt, and turned to the androids.
“Take care of the—”
“Found you!”
A gang of bandits emerged from the tree line, led by a scarred, terrifying man wielding a scimitar.
They swarmed the beach, weapons raised.
“Hand over your valuables!” the bandit leader roared.
“And we might just let you live!”
“Like hell we will!” Albert barked, drawing his blade.
The leader sneered.
“If that’s how you want it, we’ll take it from your cold, dead bodies—”
A single, sharp crack echoed across the beach.
The bandit leader’s head snapped back as he collapsed, lifeless.
Vladimir stood there, his weapon smoking.
He looked annoyed, as if he’d been interrupted during tea time.
“You lot are interrupting my conversation with these strangers.
Have you no manners?” Vladimir turned to the android.
“Give me my sniper rifle!”
“At once, Admiral!”
The bandits, enraged by the sudden death of their leader, charged with a deafening war cry.
Vladimir merely waved a hand.
“Don’t hold back.
Eliminate them.”
He sprinted into the fray, unarmed, his androids following suit.
He delivered a brutal punch to a bandit’s stomach, sending him flying.
[Infinite Ammo & Weapon Selector]!
A notification box appeared in Vladimir’s vision: [YES] or [NO]?
He didn’t have time to ask questions.
He tapped [YES].
An M1907 Carbine materialized in his hands—an antique from his world.
It wasn’t the high-tech sniper rifle he wanted, but in this situation, it was perfect.
The M1907 was a bolt-action relic of the First World War, slow to reload but incredibly accurate and reliable.
Each shot was imbued with wind and lightning magic, turning simple bullets into armor-piercing projectiles.
Crack!
Crack!
He fired with rhythmic precision.
The bandits, who were used to clumsy arrows and wild sword swings, panicked as their companions fell in rapid succession.
When the bandits turned to flee, Vladimir didn’t pursue.
He didn’t need to kill them all; he just needed them to break.
“I-incredible…” Leo muttered, stunned.
“I’ve never seen a man fight like that,” Albert agreed, his voice trembling.
“That weapon…” Damon stared at the carbine.
“It’s like an arrow, but it moves faster than sound.”
Damon approached Vladimir, reaching out a hand.
“Thank you for—”
“Don’t get the wrong idea,” Vladimir snapped, brushing his hand aside.
“I didn’t save you for your sake.”
Albert bristled, grabbing Vladimir’s shoulder.
“You arrogant old man!
We were dead if you hadn’t shown up!”
Vladimir didn’t even blink.
He spun, twisted Albert’s arm, and slammed him into the sand before straightening his uniform.
He cleared his throat.
“You remind me of myself when I was a boy,” Vladimir said, his voice dropping.
“I was once attacked by a bear.
I barely survived.
It sounds ridiculous, I know.”
He looked at the young adventurers.
“Let me give you a piece of advice.
In this world, there is no such thing as ‘altruism.’ Everyone is just baring their claws to survive.
The moment you lower your guard, you’re dead.
That’s why I told you I wasn’t saving you—because you shouldn’t rely on the kindness of others.”
He turned his back to them and walked back to the submarine.
“Wait!” Christa called out, a small, genuine smile on her lips.
“You’re actually a kind person, aren’t you?”
Vladimir didn’t answer.
He just grabbed his welding torch and went back to work on his ship, letting the young adventurers salvage what they could from the bandit camp.
“Why are you letting us loot them?” Albert asked, bewildered.
“Most people would say we’d be cursed for doing that.”
“Most people?” Vladimir retorted.
“Or just you?”
The young man went pale.
“Take the loot,” Vladimir muttered, his back still turned.
“And remember: never listen to the advice of those who only want to drag you into the abyss.”
“Why?” Albert demanded.
“Because eventually,” Vladimir whispered, his eyes fixed on the horizon, “you’ll see their true nature—and you’ll realize there was never anything you could have done to stop them.”