"Desperation can break people, but even the tiniest sliver of hope can reignite their will to survive. And conveniently, I can offer them that hope."

  Cidriel Oran's voice was calm, almost casual, as he turned to his companions. "Compared to the pn you and Ginny came up with, don’t you think a tangible escape model is more convincing?"

  A physical object always speaks louder than a mere pn.

  As he spoke, Oran led them into another level of the ship’s lower decks.

  This area was far messier than the st, cluttered with all kinds of bizarre items: a mechanical lotus flower, strange metal components, vials of violet-glowing liquid, eggs from unidentifiable creatures, a mysterious green fruit, and even a few crawling green beetles.

  Oran picked up two cannon-like short-barreled weapons and handed them to Ivankov and Ginny, then began storing away the lotus devices.

  “You’re right, but what does this have to do with a return gift?” Ginny asked.

  “The Feimen pn shows the natives here that we have a real way out. But that alone isn’t enough,” Oran replied. “The ones who caused all this—are the Celestial Dragons. Turning a blind eye to that? I’m not built for that kind of tolerance.”

  His tone was even, his expression unchanging. But anyone who had worked under Cidriel Oran before would have recognized the storm brewing behind that calm facade. Their boss was pissed. Really pissed. And when that happened—whether it was Zaun's Chem-Barons or Piltover's Council—someone always paid the price, with interest.

  “You’re not saying you’re going to—”

  “It’s simple, really. Whatever they want to do, I’ll make sure they fail.

  The Celestial Dragons want to wipe this isnd off the map? Then I’ll save as many people as I can.

  They treat this pce like a hunting ground? Then I’ll shatter the myth of their divinity—right here.”

  If Ivankov didn’t already know the situation, he would’ve thought Oran was the real hunter here. There was something about the man—a quiet, bone-deep confidence that made you believe he could do it.

  And Oran wasn’t just pnning to talk the talk. He meant to walk it—step by brutal step.

  The Celestial Dragons were the so-called World Nobles, protected by the full might of the Navy. Attacking one meant inviting the wrath of a Navy Admiral. Everyone on the seas knew that.

  Years of indoctrination had left even seasoned Marines unwilling to lift a hand against them, no matter how monstrous their actions.

  Even Ivankov, with all his rebellious fire, was focused solely on escaping. Stopping the Celestial Dragons? That was a fantasy.

  But that kind of thinking had never applied to Oran—not in this world, and certainly not in Valoran.

  Especially in Valoran, where even gods were not immune to rebellion. From demigod dominions to the lofty Targonian celestials—humans never bowed forever. There had been more than one god-syer in that realm.

  “Break their myth? Don’t tell me you actually pn to—”

  Ivankov looked down at the short-barreled weapon in his hands, then back at Oran. A wild, impossible idea crept into his mind—one he would never dare to speak aloud under normal circumstances.

  But now, he had to ask. He needed to hear it from Oran himself.

  “They’ve got heads and hearts just like we do. If they can kill, then so can we.

  Sure, they’re descended from the original Twenty Kings—but so what? Ancestral glory isn’t some divine shield.

  You said there are about 200 Celestial Dragon hunters scattered across the isnd. I admit, we’re not strong enough to take down their top elites.

  But the Celestial Dragon bloodline? It's overflowing with trash. And those, we can kill.”

  “Shhiburu... That’s a hell of a pn…”

  No one truly knows what happened in the distant past, especially after Joy Boy’s failure during the Void Century. Since then, the seas had all but forgotten what it meant to resist the Celestial Dragons.

  Over a hundred years ago, a mysterious robot once attacked the Red Line—but even that ended in failure.

  Ideas like Oran’s had long disappeared from this world. Too dangerous. Too crazy.

  “Oran… you have to survive,” Ivankov said suddenly.

  “What are you talking about?” Oran frowned.

  “I mean it. Your vision—someday, it’s going to shake the very foundation of the Celestial Dragons’ rule. Even if only you make it out of here, that alone would be a victory.”

  Ivankov’s voice trembled with a mix of awe and excitement. He was only fifteen, after all. The kind of age where a few powerful words could set your blood on fire.

  Oran’s words had opened a door in his mind—a glimpse into a world he never imagined possible.

  But Oran himself remained unfazed, as if none of this grandeur had anything to do with him.

  “Don’t put some weird revolutionary crown on my head. I’m just doing this… for myself.”

  "Wait! Hold on! Both of you, calm down first! Weren’t we supposed to be escaping right now? I mean, Oran, what you said was definitely stirring, but killing a Celestial Dragon isn’t that simple."

  "They probably carry Vivre Cards. If we kill one outright, the Marines protecting them on this isnd will go berserk. And when that happens..."

  Jinny was starting to feel like her brother and this new acquaintance were getting carried away — maybe even losing their minds. She admitted that Oran made some compelling points, but the consequences of this pn… might be far more than they could handle.

  "Of course we’re not killing him right away," Oran said calmly. "Even if it’s for a statement, that’s something you do right before setting sail. But those two hundred Celestial Dragons… it’s not like they report in every single day."

  "We just need to grab one at the right time, then eliminate him at another — that’s enough to make our point."

  Once a myth is broken, the seeds of rebellion start to sprout.

  This was part of Oran’s so-called gift in return. But whether that spark would truly ignite anything on this vast sea — that was still a mystery.

  "The thing I just handed you two is a net-uncher. Fires a 90-caliber web of cables. Standard Piltover police issue. The recoil’s a bit rough, though. Try it out outside ter — if you’re unsure how it works, I’ll walk you through it."

  Oran needed some craftsmen to help with assembly, which meant more people would soon gather in one pce.

  From the intel Ivankov and Jinny had brought, the Celestial Dragons called the isnd’s sves and natives “Stray Rabbits,” and had even ranked them by points.

  Thirteen were cssified as SR-level, 150 as R-level, and over a hundred thousand in total were designated as hunting targets for the Celestial Dragons. With points on the line, anywhere with a dense popution was bound to become their first strike zone.

  And human nature... was fragile under pressure. No one could truly predict what someone might do when staring death in the face.

  Sure, there were those who could stick to their convictions. But in their current situation, there was no room for trial and error.

  That’s why before recruiting anyone else, Oran needed his own core group — to carry out the detailed pns and maintain order among those who would gather here.

  And since Ivankov had not only proposed an alternative pn but also shared crucial intel, he naturally became one of Oran’s first picks.

  …

  "This net’s surprisingly durable. The average Celestial Dragon shouldn’t be able to break free. But the recoil... I doubt Jinny can handle it well."

  Oran had already used the ship's cutting tools to remove Ivankov and Jinny's handcuffs, then walked them through how to operate the net-unchers. He also showed them a few trap gadgets.

  Ivankov quickly got the hang of managing the recoil, but Jinny was still struggling.

  Even an adult woman could get knocked back a few steps from the force of the unch. It was based on Caitlyn’s police-grade equipment from Piltover, though it had been slightly modified.

  Jinny, with her malnourished and childish frame, could barely operate the weapon. Instead, she focused more on using the Den Den Mushi in her hand to intercept communications from across the isnd.

  Den Den Mushi were a unique species native to this sea — essentially special snails that, with the right components, could be converted into communication devices.

  Jinny had already modified a wild snail from God Valley using parts from Oran’s ship. With the enhanced device, she managed to intercept even more transmissions.

  "The Celestial Dragons are about to start the hunt. But just now, one of the Buccaneer sves escaped. He headed roughly in that direction."

  She cross-referenced her intel with a rough map of the area and pinpointed a general location. Just then, the headset she wore picked up a fresh signal wave — her expression lit up.

  "Ivankov, Oran, I’m picking up a lot of signal traffic from the nearby sea. Looks like someone received the message we broadcast earlier!"

  "Hee-haw! Now that’s some good news. The more strong folks that show up, the bigger the chaos — and the better our odds!"

  With access to the ship’s tools and equipment, Jinny’s talents had finally come into full py.

  She’d even established contact with workers from the God Valley shipyard and had marked their rough locations on the map.

  Ivankov was now fully familiar with loading and aiming the weapon. Seeing that everyone was nearly ready, Oran turned to the next step in their pn.

  "We can’t rely on hope alone. Whatever pn we choose, three people won’t be enough. Time to move."

  "Didn’t another one just escape? Looks like there’s still plenty of people around here not willing to wait for death."