"The ocean's a big place," Orrak said with a shrug, his gaze flicking to the naga, Eshyra. "Not my problem where you end up. Besides the Trident Sea, there's the Starfall Sea, the Silvercurrent Sea, the Kygard Expanse, the Sunrise Sea… I'm sure you'll find a home somewhere." He then deliberately shifted his attention to Dadur of the Reverse Whale race.

At Orrak's subtle gesture, both Eshyra and the Dreadfin lord, Cyclon, turned their eyes to Dadur.

Dadur was an upper-tier Legendary, the most powerful being among them. Most of the time, the various Sea Race gathered on this island deferred to his judgment.

"There's one thing I don't get," Dadur said, his voice a low rumble. He ignored the expectant stares from the naga and the Dreadfin, his full attention on Orrak. "With the strength of your Sea-Drake race, why would you be afraid of some land-dwellers? Afraid enough to just hand over a major island like this?" He leaned forward slightly. "I'm guessing it's not as simple as them having an arch lord."

"You know I've been locked up here," Orrak countered, gesturing vaguely at his surroundings. "I'm out of the loop on clan business. I think… it probably has something to do with that new coastal trade city they opened. Word is, it's bringing in a ton of profit. All the elders are thrilled with it."

Though imprisoned, Orrak had ways of hearing things from the outside, but he only ever got the broad strokes. He knew nothing of the history between the Sea-Drake race and the Stoneheart Horde. Naturally, the details of Marina city's establishment and the profit-sharing agreements were completely beyond him.

"Well, that would explain it," Dadur mused. "Trading with the surface? Of course that would bring the Sea-Drakes countless benefits."

"Dadur, we're talking about whether we stay or leave," Eshyra hissed, her patience wearing thin. Though a naga, she had a notoriously short fuse, and the conversational detour was grating on her. "What's your call?"

A slow, cunning smile spread across Dadur's face, but he didn't answer her immediately.

Cyclon, the Dreadfin lord, was far more patient than the naga. He knew the Reverse Whale's nature well. "You've already made a move, haven't you?"

"If Orrak's intel is right, those newcomers have already met my little vassal school," Dadur said, a low, wicked chuckle rumbling in his chest. "Right now, I'm very curious to see if they can survive an encounter with my gargantuan rays. Heh heh heh…"

His laughter was dark and malevolent.

"Dadur, I'm pretending I never heard this," Orrak said, rising to his feet. "And I was never here today." His body shimmered and swelled, shifting into his massive true form before he plunged into the ocean without a second glance, disappearing down the river on the far side of the island.

"What the hell was that?" Eshyra snapped, her six arms gesturing in frustration. "He just up and leaves?" Orrak's abrupt departure amplified the sense of crisis that had been gnawing at her.

"His sentence was up. Unlike us, he's not a prisoner anymore, not Banish-ed. Why would he stay?" Dadur said calmly. "Let him go. This is the Trident Sea, Sea-Drake territory. It's better for Orrak not to be involved in this."

The Reverse Whale lord watched the ripples where Orrak had vanished, his eyes narrowing. Orrak has always been arrogant and domineering. For him to wash his hands of this completely… the Sea-Drakes must have really put the screws to him. And the source of that pressure was the very same group of outsiders about to land on their shores.

To the Sea Race, all land-dwellers were outsiders.

"Orrak's gone. No outsiders here now," Cyclon stated, his voice a low gravel. He stared at Dadur, knowing the Reverse Whale hadn't spoken freely before for Orrak's benefit—both to keep him in the dark and to spare him a difficult choice. "You can tell us the plan."

"It's simple," Dadur began, immediately capturing both Eshyra's and Cyclon's undivided attention. "There are only two possibilities. One: their arch lord shows up in person. If that happens, we pack our bags, get the hell out, and go our separate ways. No discussion."

They all knew the Stoneheart Horde was a major faction with an arch lord; Orrak had made that clear.

"And if the big gun doesn't show?" Eshyra pressed, her eyebrows raised. Unconsciously, her six hands drifted down, hovering over the hilts of the long knives sheathed at her waist. She'd known Dadur a long time; she knew exactly what kind of person he was.

"There is no 'if'," Dadur said with absolute certainty, a broad, predatory grin spreading across his face. "The arch lord is not here. Just now, the rays sent word back. They've made contact with the incoming fleet."

A jolt went through Eshyra and Cyclon. If the rays were still able to send a message, that was all the proof they needed.

"So, what's the play?" Eshyra asked again, her voice now sharp with anticipation.

"Nothing," Dadur said smoothly. "As of a few moments ago, I officially dissolved my vassal pact with the rays. They have absolutely nothing to do with me now."

Both Eshyra and Cyclon fell silent, a chill running through them at the sheer audacity and ruthlessness of the move.

"It's just a probe," Dadur explained. "If these newcomers survive the rays, then they've earned the right to talk to us. And if they manage to wipe out the entire school? Well, then they've just cleaned up our mess for us, haven't they?"

Dadur glanced at the other two. All three of them were exiles from the outer seas, with no real power base in the Trident Sea. They had clawed their way into controlling Aenari Island, building up a small faction and a following under the dismissive gaze of the Sea-Drakes. They couldn't just abandon it all on the whim of the local hegemon.

They didn't dare challenge the Sea-Drakes, the true masters of this territory, but a group of outsiders from the land? That was a different story.

Most importantly, Dadur was betting that the Sea-Drakes would never allow a land-based faction to freely slaughter other Sea Race within their domain. When push came to shove, he was confident the Sea-Drakes would, however reluctantly, side with them.

After a long moment, Cyclon asked the crucial question. "And what if they actually make it to the island?"

"Even simpler," Dadur chuckled. "We let them land. We meet them. If they're weak, then I'm sorry, but Aenari Island remains ours. If they're strong… well, then we go back to being wanderers. Back to being Banish-ed."

***

Silverwood Realm—The Dais of Judgment.

What in the hell is that thing?

As the thought crossed Orion's mind, a figure began to coalesce within the churning pool of blood.

The monster was a nightmarish fusion of giant and beast. It was several times larger than any giant he'd ever seen, with a long, whip-like tail thrashing behind it. A ridge of razor-sharp bone spurs erupted from its spine, a wicked crest running from the nape of its neck all the way to the bloody tip of its tail.

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