Buck V Henderson was currently on his knees in his cabin with his face hovering over a bucket that had been empty three hours ago.
Now it was full.
The contents were a sloshing mess of partially digested crab meat and stomach acid that had the consistency of chowder.
His hands were gripping the edges of the bucket so hard his knuckles had gone white.
His entire body was shaking with the effort of not throwing up again but his stomach wasn’t listening.
It never listened.
Another wave hit him and he heaved into the bucket with a sound that was somewhere between a dying walrus and someone trying to cough up their own spine.
The splatter echoed off the walls of the cramped cabin.
His forehead was slick with cold sweat.
His dark hair was plastered to his temples.
His sharp jaw was covered in a thin layer of grime that had accumulated over the past three months of constant misery.
There was a knock at the door.
“Umm, Mr. Henderson?” a servant’s voice came through the wood.
It was young and nervous.
It always was.
“GIVE ME A MINUTE!” Buck shouted.
The words came out ragged and desperate.
He threw his hand over his mouth and vomited again.
The sound was wet and violent.
It seemed to go on forever.
“Mr. Henderson?” The servant’s voice was more hesitant now.
“Are you alright? It sounds like you’re—”
“I’m fine!” Buck interrupted.
He was wiping his mouth with the back of his hand while trying to keep his voice steady.
“I’m absolutely fine! Just… busy! Very busy! Important hero stuff!”
“Are you sure?” The servant’s voice was still doubtful.
“It sounds like you’re vomiting.”
“Me?” Buck let out a strained laugh.
It came out as a weird gurgle.
“Vomiting? Haha, no! That’s nonsense! I’m not—” He threw up again mid-sentence.
The sound was impossible to hide.
“—vomiting! That’s just… that’s just hero sounds! I’m practicing my hero sounds!”
He vomited again.
This time it came up with enough force that some of it splashed back onto his chin.
“I’ll… I’ll come back later,” the servant said quickly.
Footsteps retreated down the hall.
Buck collapsed back onto his knees.
He was gasping for air.
His entire body was trembling.
He was a fraud and a bitch and he knew it.
But that wasn’t even the worst part.
The worst part was that he was also extremely seasick.
He had been vomiting every single day for the past three months.
Every.
Single.
Day.
Three months of this trip and his stomach had never once gotten used to the motion of the ocean.
Not only was he a fraud bitch, but he was also an extremely seasick fraud bitch.
The combination had been hell.
The panic about the continent of death was bad enough on its own.
It churned in his gut like a second stomach acid.
But the constant rocking of the ship and the smell of salt water and the sight of the endless horizon?
That was a whole different kind of nightmare.
He had lost twenty pounds since they set sail.
His magnificent body, the body that had earned him fame and fortune and the adoration of thousands, was starting to look gaunt.
His abs were still there but they were less defined.
His arms were still thick but they were starting to lose some of their bulk.
He looked like a man who had been through a war instead of a man who had been sitting on a boat for three months.
Norwin had only sent two ships and rented three adventurers.
Buck the Smite.
Bjorn the Glutton.
And Pickem the Half Man.
That was it.
Two ships carrying a combined crew of 72 people and only three adventurers to protect them.
Buck couldn’t fight for shit.
Bjorn was a force of nature but he was also a complete meathead.
Pickem was fast and clever but he was literally only two feet tall.
Which meant this entire expedition was utterly defenseless.
The safety of two ships and seventy-two souls rested on the shoulders of two semi-capable people.
Buck’s stomach lurched again.
He grabbed the bucket and heaved.
Nothing came out this time because there was nothing left.
He was just dry heaving now.
“GET YOURSELF TOGETHER!” He slapped his own face hard enough to sting.
“You’re Buck V Henderson! You’re the greatest hero in Fluvenmire! The dragon killer! The strongest man in the kingdom! You can’t be afraid! You can’t be weak! You need to—”
Another wave of nausea hit him.
He dry heaved into the bucket.
“FUCK!”
He dropped his head onto the edge of the bucket and let out a groan that was equal parts misery and self-loathing.
He was pathetic.
He knew he was pathetic.
Everyone thought he was this legendary figure.
They thought he could handle anything.
But the truth was that he was just a scared kid who had gotten lucky and now he was in way over his head.
Outside Buck’s cabin the two ships were sailing side by side through calm waters.
The sky was clear and the sun was warm and everything felt almost peaceful.
The crew were going about their duties with practiced efficiency.
They were all tired of being at sea but they could sense that the journey was almost over.
A man was perched in the crow’s nest at the top of the main mast.
His eyes were fixed on the horizon and he had been scanning the distance for hours.
Then he saw something that made him jerk forward so fast he nearly fell off his perch.
His hand shot up and he pointed ahead with a trembling finger.
“SHOREEEE! WE GOT FAWN SHORE ABOUT 200 KM OUT!”
The words echoed across the deck.
For a moment there was silence.
Then the ship erupted.
The crew burst into cheers so loud that they probably scared every fish within a mile.
Men were slapping each other on the backs.
Some of them were crying.
Others were just shouting at the top of their lungs.
The sound was a chaotic mess of joy and relief.
“FINALLY! I can’t eat another piece of salted fish! I swear if I see another preserved fish I’m going to jump overboard!”
“Do you think they’ve got meat there? Real meat? Like the kind that doesn’t taste like it was packed in salt three years ago?”
“Who cares about meat? I just want to walk on solid ground! My legs have forgotten what walking on dirt feels like!”
The cheering continued.
The man in the crow’s nest leaned over and shouted down at the deck.
“SEEMS WE’RE THE FIRST ONES HERE!”
The crew cheered even louder.
First dibs.
That was what it meant.
They would be the first ones to explore the island.
The first ones to claim whatever resources were available.
The first ones to make contact with the locals.
The first ones to establish a foothold.
“FIRST DIBS! WE’RE GETTING FIRST DIBS!”
On the other ship the atmosphere was different.
More controlled.
More professional.
But the excitement was still there.
The crew were grinning and pointing at the distant shoreline.
They were already talking about what they would do when they landed.
Bjorn the Glutton was lounging against the railing of the other ship with his massive frame taking up an absurd amount of space.
He was easily eight feet tall.
His shoulders were as wide as a doorframe to the point he looked like an early 2000s Yaoi dom mc.
His arms were thicker than most men’s thighs.
He had a thick red beard that was braided into two distinct sections.
His wild hair was the same shade of red and it went past his shoulders.
He was currently munching on a giant 35 pound section of fish.
It was one of the larger catches from the previous day and he had been working on it for the better part of an hour.
He was holding it with both hands and taking bites that would have made a shark jealous.
His jaw was working constantly and he was barely chewing before swallowing.
Bjorn had the Reuse magic ability Surge.
It was a simple power but it was incredibly effective.
He could take any calorie in his body and convert it directly into usable energy that increased his strength, speed, and endurance.
The conversion rate was almost perfect.
Which meant that the more he ate the more powerful he became.
He regularly consumed over 50,000 calories a day
Pickem the Half Man was sitting on the railing near Bjorn.
He was tiny.
Only two feet tall.
His mother had been a Halflinn and his father had been a gnome.
The combination had produced a creature that looked like a miniature human with pointed ears and a flat nose.
His skin was the color of.
He was currently holding a piece of fish that was almost as big as his entire body.
Pickem had the attunement magic Swift.
His reaction time and speed were three to eight times faster than a regular human.
Combined with his naturally fast Halfinn reflexes and his tiny size he was easily ten times faster than the average person.
He could dodge arrows.
He could catch flies.
He could run circles around almost anyone.
Bjorn finished his latest bite and swallowed with a sound like rocks tumbling down a hill.
Then he stood up.
It was like watching a mountain move.
His full height was even more imposing when he wasn’t slouching against a railing.
He looked around the deck and his eyes landed on a young female servant who was trying to carry a stack of supplies across the ship.
“YOU!” Bjorn’s voice boomed across the deck.
“Servant girl!”
The woman froze.
Her face went pale.
The supplies she was carrying nearly slipped from her grasp.
“Come here!” Bjorn commanded.
He was waving her over with one massive hand.
“I need more alcohol! Fetch me the last of it from the cargo hold! The good stuff! Not that watered down swill you’ve been serving the crew!”
The woman’s hands were shaking.
She nodded quickly and scurried off without a word.
Pickem watched the exchange and sighed.
He tossed his piece of fish at Bjorn.
It hit the big man in the chest with a wet splat and fell to the deck.
“Give the staff a break,” Pickem said.
His voice was high and reedy but it carried authority.
“You’re scaring them. They can’t even look at you without trembling.”
Bjorn looked down at the fish on the deck.
Then he looked at Pickem.
Then he looked back at the fish.
His face was completely innocent.
“What?” He spread his massive hands.
“I was nice!”