Chapter 120: Castaway on a Deserted Island (1)

Far off from the coast of the trading port Mudside stood a massive breakwater.

Swaaah, swaaah.

Inside it, gentle and peaceful waves rippled softly.

This area was notoriously known for its violent waves and fast currents, but thanks to the overwhelming thickness and height of the breakwater holding them back, such a tranquil scene was possible.

However, that also meant…

Chwaaah! Chwaaah!

Outside the breakwater, it was a whole different story—one that could only be described as hell.

“Uwaaaah!”

“Y-Young Master! Let’s go slowlyyyy!”

Near the neck of the cockatrice.

Mikkelsen and Beryl screamed as waves crashed against them.

Sitting atop the cockatrice’s head, Hardin looked down at them with a face full of disdain.

“Endure it, you idiots. It’s just some waves, stop whining…”

“W-Whining? We’ll end up as drowned corpses at this rate!”

“Uwaaaah! We’re shaking!”

The cockatrice walked across the sea.

Chwaaak! Chwaaak!

Each time the rough waves slammed into the beast’s body, the knights clinging desperately to its feathers swung about like paper in the wind.

The reason they were in this situation now…

 Hurry and get on. We’re going to that island.

 Island? Do you mean the one where we caught Kreveion?

 Yeah.

 B-But… shouldn’t we just take a boat if we’re going there? Isn’t it a bit much to ride the cockatrice…

 No time. Just get on.

It was all thanks to Hardin’s sudden order. After summoning the knights early in the morning, he’d appeared riding a cockatrice and demanded they follow.

“M-Mikkelsen! You okay?!”

“Not okay, sir!”

“M-Me neitherrrr! Oww! Owwww!”

With every wave, groans and wails rang out from every direction.

And then…

“Vice-captain Manton! Someone just fell off!”

“Damn it!”

One of the knights had lost their grip and was swept away by the waves.

Even using Body Reinforcement to flail about, the current was so fierce that he was just slowly drifting backwards.

Then—

“Hold on!”

Splash!

Manton dove into the sea and quickly grabbed the drifting knight, pulling him back onto the cockatrice.

The problem was…

“Aaaargh!”

“Another one fell off!”

“Daaamn it!”

It wasn’t just one.

Almost as if by some unspoken agreement, the moment one was saved, another would fall. And then another. And another.

After repeating this farce several times—

“Cough! Cough! Huff… Huuuff…”

Manton’s face had grown pale and gaunt.

The real issue was that the sea had no intention of showing mercy.

“Uwaaaah! C-Captain Manton!”

“S-Someone fell again!”

This time, two had fallen at once.

Manton quickly turned to Beryl and shouted.

“Captain Beryl! Help me out!”

“Bleeegh... bleeegh!”

But Beryl didn’t seem to be in his right mind either, dry heaving with a pale blue face.

Forget saving others—he looked barely able to take care of himself.

‘W-What should I do?’

Just as Manton’s face was turning deathly pale—

“Huuu, you guys are so damn weak.”

A voice came from above.

Whoosh!

Several ropes flew out toward the sea.

Hardin had pulled them from his bundle and flung them in various directions.

“Hey, grab those tight! No—better yet, tie them around your body!”

“Ah! Yes, sir!”

‘T-Thank goodness.’

Manton let out a sigh of relief.

“Cough! Cough!”

“S-Slowlyyy!”

Soon, the knights who had grabbed—or rather, clung to—the ropes were dragged through the crashing waves while screaming in pain.

How long had this hellish ordeal continued?

A short while later…

“Bleeegh! Bleeegh!”

“Haaah… haaah…”

Behind the rocky isle, on top of a relatively spacious stone patch—

The knights, soaked to the bone, vomited up seawater as they gagged on the ground.

‘Thought I was gonna die.’

‘Almost ended up as a drowned ghost.’

Most of them looked absolutely wretched—faces pale, lips blue.

Some even…

“Bleeegh!”

Flap flap!

Mikkelsen gagged and even spit out a small fish… a rather surreal sight.

While the knights were each expressing their misery in their own way—

“Man, that was rough. Quit whining, you lot. If anyone’s tired, it’s me, not you.”

Hardin landed on the ground and started rolling his shoulders, stretching his arms.

He must’ve been sore from holding onto multiple ropes the entire way.

Maybe it was that shameless attitude of his…

‘You’re the one who brought us here, you lunatic!’

‘It wasn’t whining—we almost died, for real!’

‘What kind of person is this guy…?’

The knights glared silently, their eyes full of curses, lacking any sense of guilt.

Hardin crossed his arms and tilted his head as he asked:

“What? Got a problem? Say it if you do.”

“P-Problem? Us?”

“It’s written all over your face. ‘I’ve got a problem.’”

“Haha… No way. Not at all.”

Why was he so sensitive about stuff like this?

Beryl sighed as he looked away from Hardin’s gaze.

Then—

“Um… Young Master.”

When Hardin turned his head, he saw Manton with his hand slightly raised.

“What now?”

“Why exactly did you come all the way out here?”

The other knights perked up too, curious.

Hardin scoffed, as if wondering why they’d even ask.

“Why else? To prepare.”

“Prepare for what?”

“What do you mean, what? You all heard we’re about to clash with the Count of Tread, right?”

Manton ran his fingers over his eyebrows, trying to piece together the situation.

“So… you brought us to this island to prepare for the battle against the Count of Tread?”

“That’s right.”

“And you did it with that thing in tow.”

Manton pointed at the cockatrice standing behind them.

In response, the cockatrice blinked its eyes and then—

Flutter!

It shook its body vigorously, splashing water in all directions.

“Ugh!”

“Pffth, bleh!”

Everyone’s faces twisted again as they got drenched once more.

Manton wiped the water from his face with the back of his hand and continued questioning.

“So what exactly are we doing here?”

Hardin shrugged his shoulders and replied.

“There’s quite a bit to do, so explaining it all would be a hassle.”

“But even so, you should at least tell us a little…”

Manton pressed again, but Hardin ignored him and instead pointed at Beryl in the back.

“Beryl, come over here.”

“Huh? Me?”

“Yeah, you. Come on.”

“Uuuuugh.”

Groaning with a sense of foreboding, Beryl approached. Hardin pulled a rolled-up parchment from his pack and held it out to him.

“What’s this?”

“Take a look.”

“Hm? This is…”

Beryl tilted his head as he unrolled the parchment. Hardin threw an arm around his shoulder, grinning.

“This is your mission. What’s drawn on that… build it with that guy.”

He pointed his thumb at the cockatrice behind him.

“With that guy? The cockatrice?”

“Yeah. You can do it, right?”

Beryl blinked blankly for a moment, then asked again.

“Wait, before we get into whether I can or not—what is this?”

What was drawn on the parchment looked like some kind of stone tower.

A bizarrely shaped structure, stacked even higher than the island’s peak on one side of the rocky isle.

“That’ll be needed when we fight those bastards from the Count of Tread.”

“And… what exactly is this thing for?”

Beryl simply couldn’t understand.

The Count of Tread’s forces would most likely land at the port of Mudside.

That was why the entire household was currently focused on fortifying the harbor, wasn’t it?

Building something like this on a remote island far beyond the breakwater, away from the port—what use could it possibly serve…?

But Hardin remained firm.

“You don’t need to know right now. I’ll explain when the time comes.”

“No, but still, I need at least some idea to build it properly…”

“Tsk. I said you don’t need to know right now.”

Hardin clicked his tongue and clenched his fist tightly.

“…Do I really have to do this?”

“If I say do it, then do it.”

As Beryl glanced around for a way out, Hardin rotated his clenched fist through the air, making a threatening gesture.

Beryl slumped his shoulders and gave in.

“Understood…”

"Yeah, that’s more like it."

With that, Beryl let out a long, heavy sigh.

The knights watching this scene had sympathetic looks on their faces.

Then Hardin waved his hand dismissively and said,

"Now that you know, get started."

"Right now?"

"When else are you going to do it?"

"Shouldn’t we rest a bit first? We’re still soaking wet."

"Dry off while you work."

"But still…"

"Come on, hurry up and start! Or are you going to wait until the Tread bastards invade?"

"…Understood."

At Hardin’s insistence, Beryl, face contorted into a frown, walked toward the cockatrice.

‘Vile human. Even a demon wouldn’t act like this.’

But what could he do?

Hardin’s fists were a far more immediate concern than logic or reason.

Step. Step.

As Beryl trudged forward, the distance between him and the cockatrice narrowed.

 Screeech.

Perhaps it was irritated by Beryl’s presence.

The cockatrice, which had been still for a while, opened its eyes, glaring at him with a crimson, hostile stare.

It looked like it might tear Beryl’s head off with that giant, razor-sharp beak at any moment.

By the time he was barely 7 or 8 meters away—

Stop.

Beryl halted and locked eyes with the fierce beast.

The air between them grew thick with tension, like something might explode at any moment.

Then suddenly—

Stop.

Beryl extended one arm forward and said,

"Come here, come here, Kkokko. Come on now."

With a grotesquely sweet smile, as if nothing had happened, he clicked his tongue.

His voice was as affectionate as a pet owner calling their dog.

Then—

 Groooowl.

As if flipping a switch, the cockatrice’s crimson glare disappeared. It closed its eyes and gently lowered its head toward Beryl’s hand.

As if asking to be petted.

"There, there. That’s a good boy."

"Groooowl, groooowl!"

Scratch, scratch-scratch!

As Beryl scratched the top of its head with all his strength, the cockatrice twisted its head with a pleased expression.

It looked as docile as a lamb.

The knights watching from a distance let out small chuckles and nodded to themselves.

‘Man, no matter how many times I see that, it’s still amazing.’

‘From animals to now even cockatrices… That’s Beryl for you. The title of Beast Master suits him perfectly.’

‘Maybe to monsters… that face of his is charming?’

Honestly, at this point, it wasn’t even surprising anymore.

Ever since the breakwater had been completed, Beryl had taken sole responsibility for raising the cockatrice.

 Kkokko! Dinner time, dinner!

 Groooowl!

 Hahaha, that’s it! Good boy!

From feeding it, to cleaning its nest, to training—it was all done by Beryl.

At this point, it felt like he was a farmer tending to his livestock.

It was true—there was no better person than Beryl for building some mysterious structure with the cockatrice.

Just then—

“Hyut-cha!”

 Groooowl!

With perfect timing, Beryl hopped right onto the cockatrice’s head.

“Let’s go that way!”

He raised his hand and pointed in a direction.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

The cockatrice obediently bounded off in the direction Beryl indicated.

Then—

“Okay, right here. One. Two…”

 Screeeeech!

Just as Beryl said, the cockatrice began faithfully spraying its petrifying venom on one side of the rocky isle.

Even after all they’d seen, the knights still couldn’t take their eyes off the bizarre scene.

‘Well, looks like he’s got that part under control.’

Hardin exhaled a long breath through his nose, then turned to stare directly at the remaining knights.

“Alright, now I’ll tell you guys what you’re gonna do.”

“O-Our job? We have one too?”

Mikkelsen asked.

Smack!

“Argh!”

Hardin flicked Mikkelsen on the forehead and said,

“Why would you even ask that? We’re heading into a war—what, you think you get to just stand around?”

“N-No, I didn’t mean it like that…”

Mikkelsen rubbed his forehead with a miserable look.

‘What’s he planning now…?’

‘This is bad. Really bad.’

Gulp.

As anxiety crept over their faces, Hardin spoke up.

“What you’re doing isn’t anything crazy. We’re just gonna do some training on this island.”

“Training? Then why did we have to come all the way to this island?”

“Because obviously, this is the only place we can do this special training.”

“Special training?”

The knights exchanged uneasy glances, murmuring among themselves.

Hardin crossed his arms and smirked.

“That’s right. Starting now, you’re all going to begin special training for naval combat… with me.”

“Naval combat?”

The knights’ eyes wavered with panic.

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