"Ash Phantom: The Legend Reborn"

A night draped in deep, dark velvet. The vast ocean stretched endlessly, its surface trembling under the moon's pale watch. That moon—patched and worn—hung low on the horizon, casting a ghostly glow across the restless waters. Silent clouds roamed lazily, carrying with them a cold breath that swept over the waves.

Above, the stars burned like silver embers scattered across the sky, and streaks of galaxy light painted the heavens in inked swirls of blue and violet.

Through that chill wind came a ship unlike any other. Its hull was carved entirely from translucent ice—blue and pink, like frozen light, glowing dimly from within as if it were alive. It was a giant, silent predator, cutting through the waves with unnatural grace.

Its flag swayed high, stitched with the image of a gun and a bull. Beneath it, bold letters screamed a single name:

LITOS.

Many stones hung from the walls, doors, and surfaces, catching the faint glow of scattered gold, white, and yellow lights. The light was dim—soft on the eyes—wrapping the ship in a calm, dreamlike haze.

Across the deck, people slept where they had fallen, sprawled on the wooden planks with bottles open beside them. The scent of wine hung thick in the air, mixed with the salt of the sea.

In the middle of the ship stood a royal house, crafted from stone and wood, its design both rough and elegant. Balconies curled around it—small, close enough that a person could leap from one to the next with only two hands' reach between them.

Ropes dangled from high beams, swaying gently in the night breeze. Wooden stairs twisted up and down between levels. Drums, containers, and crates were stacked in casual chaos.

On one balcony, two men leaned over a chessboard, eyes sharp, pieces clicking softly in the quiet. On another, an artist sat cross-legged, sketching on yellowed paper by lantern light. A group laughed loudly, mugs in hand, trading jokes and drunken shouts. Some leaned together to whisper stories, others simply gazed out at the endless ocean.

From balcony to balcony, crew members leapt easily, like it were second nature. The whole scene was alive—not loud, not wild, but warm. A strange kind of happy, a chill moment in the heart of the tideborn's stronghold.

At the roof of that royal house—an open space under the night sky—a single couple stood together, lost in their own moment. The wind played with their hair, carrying the faint scent of salt and wine from below.

Beneath them, the house itself was carved into small, wooden rooms that opened directly onto outside balconies. The wood carried the scent of citrus, sharp yet warm. Each room felt like a pirate's den—simple beds, glowing oil lamps, crates of apples, and bottles of wine stacked against the walls.

When the doors opened, the balconies revealed themselves—not only on the outside walls, but also along the inner structure of the house. These inner balconies mirrored the outer ones, placed at the same distance apart.

At the very lowest level, in the heart of the house, the chaos burned brightest—a party place, a bar, shadows and light tangled together. The tables were worn dark by years of use, a few lamps glowed faintly, and the bar itself shimmered with shifting colors, like a liquid rainbow in the dark.

From the inside balconies above, people could lean over and watch the chaos unfold below—laughter, shouts, music, the clink of glasses. But there were no stairs to reach it. If someone wanted to join the fun, they had to climb down balcony by balcony, stepping carefully from one to the next. That was their way, their system—a game and a risk all at once.

***

Someone sat alone in their room, door shut tight. The faint creak of the ship's wood whispered in the silence. Rabi was hunched over a book, eyes wide, hands trembling slightly as he read the words:

When the tide is about to turn upside down, many things will unfold after Vincentia's curse unlocks. When the Land of the Dead will no longer remain closed…

His breath caught. The letters seemed heavier than paper. Then—knock knock.

"Hey, why did you locked yourself in, Rabi? Hey—say something!"

Rabi's heart jumped. Panic rushed through him. He shut the book so fast the pages bit his fingers. He slid it under the bed, his movements sharp, frantic. Wiping the sweat off his face with his sleeve, he forced his breath to slow. His hand lingered on the doorknob before turning it.

Rodrigo stood outside, suspicion written across his face. His eyes scanned Rabi like a searchlight."Something you hiding? You didn't come out today. What's the matter?"

Rabi forced a shrug. "No… nothing like that. I just… don't feel like chilling right now."

Rodrigo stepped closer, catching his wrist, then feeling his forehead."You've got a fever. Let me check. Yeah—seems hot today. You should sleep. I'll get some medicine for you."

Rabi pulled back slightly. "No, no, no… thanks. I'm alright. If I need help, I'll call you."

Rodrigo's gaze lingered, like he could read the lie. "Sure… ask if you need anything. I'll have some herbal tea ready for you."

"That means a lot," Rabi said quickly, and closed the door with a little too much force.

Outside, Rodrigo stood for a moment, frowning."Huh… he's sick today."

Rabi waited until Rodrigo's footsteps faded into the noise of the ship. Then—quick as a spark—he dropped to his knees and reached under the bed. His fingers brushed something cold and hard. He pulled it out.

A thick, dust-kissed book. The title, burned into the cover in faint silver letters: Book of Future – Shamrico.

He climbed back onto the bed, legs folding under him. With shaky hands, he flipped through the brittle pages in a rush. His eyes devoured the words.

The Throne Hunt will start again. Hidden faces will shine. Three will meet.

"What… does that mean?" he whispered to himself, his voice barely a breath.

The page seemed to answer.

To know what that means, start reading further…

Rabi swallowed hard and turned another page.

Outside the house, on the deck of the ship, a recliner chair sat like a throne—carved from black stone and draped in blue robes. A man rested there, eyes closed, one leg dangling lazily over the ship's edge. The cold ocean wind curled around him, but he didn't move.

A silver-skinned man sat in the black stone recliner, dressed in a regal king's suit. Behind him, another man lounged casually—blue-haired, sharp-eyed, but restless.

The blue-haired man spoke first."Brother Ranjan… what are you thinking?"

Ranjan didn't open his eyes. His voice came calm and cold, but deep like distant thunder."Alvin… I'm thinking about our last trip to Moa Town. They say that place holds the secret of the future. But when we went there—" his lip curled slightly "—we found nothing. I took their leader's head, looted everything… yet I feel unfulfilled."

He leaned back, letting the wind catch his silver hair."You know, little brother… I don't care much about money. I want something bigger than that. The secret to ultimate power, Shamrico. Moa surely holds it. And…" his voice lowered, "…I think someone on this ship might be holding that secret."

Alvin's eyes widened. His words stumbled out."What? Someone on our ship? But… all of them are like family to us. How could anyone betray us?"

Ranjan finally turned his head, slowly, his expression unreadable. Then—almost gently—he smiled.

Alvin shifted uncomfortably."Are… are you blaming me?"

Ranjan chuckled quietly."No, no, my dear brother… but think—" His gaze drifted toward the cabins."We haven't seen Rabi all day. And in Moa Town… he went somewhere different from us."

The cold wind shifted, brushing across both brothers' faces like the whisper of an unseen truth.

Rabi tried to focus on the words, but his eyes kept sliding over the paper."Where was I…? Which page…?"

The sentences swam in front of him. His fingers tightened on the Shamrico.

Knock. Knock.

He froze. Heart pounding, he shoved the book back under the bed, its pages still half open, and hurried to the door.

When he opened it, he froze again.

Alvin stood there. One hand pressed against the doorframe. His face was serious, his voice low."Where is the Shamrico?"

Rabi blinked, the blood rushing to his ears."Huh…? What are you talking about, Brother Alvin?"

Alvin's eyes narrowed, studying him. Then his expression eased—just a little."If you don't have the Shamrico… why are you so tense?"

Rabi swallowed."I… I don't know what you're saying."

Alvin leaned on the doorframe, voice suddenly lighter."Okay then… if you don't have it, we trust you. We're family, right?"

Rabi scratched the back of his head, forcing a shaky laugh."Ha… haha… you're right, Brother."

Alvin's lips curled into a smile—one that never reached his eyes. It was the kind of smile that could kill.

Rabi's chest tightened."Brother… I don't have it. Seriously."

Alvin nodded slowly, almost whispering."Yes… Yes… We don't have it either."

Then his smile sharpened like a blade."And we've never had… a person named Rabi."

Rabi's eyes went wide. His breath caught in his throat."I… I can't give you the Shamrico."