Pirates eyed God Valley's treasures, while the Navy aimed to protect the Celestial Dragons. For different reasons, countless ships converged on the island.
Yet, this didn't halt the events unfolding on God Valley.
The Dragons' hunt proceeded methodically. Even their leaders, aware of incoming forces, dismissed it as trivial.
The team sent to recapture the Bakania clan slave didn't return, but the Dragons sent no more. To them, slaves couldn't escape, and a high-value target fleeing early just spiced up their game.
They began releasing slaves, urging them to hide, heightening their twisted amusement.
Oran's team grew, starting with the escaped Bakania slave, Bartholomew Kuma. Despite his massive build, he was the youngest. Oran pieced together his future as one of the Seven Warlords, Tyrant Kuma.
Like the Lunarians, the Bakania clan faced World Government extermination, especially due to Nika legends, making them prime targets. Kuma's blood was leaked at birth, drawing the Government's claws. His family enslaved, parents killed, Kuma was marked for elimination here.
"Impressive recovery, Kuma. You okay?" Oran marveled at the boy's resilience—knocked out by a head blow, beaten, yet moving freely minutes later.
"I'm fine. Thanks for caring. You're a good person," Kuma said.
"Good person? Doesn't suit me." Oran glanced at the group, now over twenty—mostly slaves, some bewildered locals.
Some, like Kuma's former group, groveled to the Dragons. Others, given a chance, chose to fight. Oran treated their wounds, leveraging his medical expertise beyond science, handling potions and prosthetics himself. It smoothed plans and built trust, boosting cooperation.
Ivankov briefed them: "Plunder resources, evict natives, play a killing game. This island has 100,000 people. In three weeks, the Dragons plan to slaughter everyone. Unbelievable? It's reality. You're lucky today—we have not one, but two ways to survive. Choose: join us or not."
Some clung to delusions about the Dragons. "Didn't they say surviving three weeks grants freedom?" a middle-aged man asked.
"You believe that nonsense?" Ivankov snapped. "They've done this before. No one's ever survived. They promise freedom to make you run, for their fun. They kill everyone, leaving no witnesses. Then they spin lies to other slaves, dangling hope for the next hunt."
The Dragons relished granting hope, then crushing it.
"How…" the man faltered.
"Simple. A listless dead fish or a lively one—which tastes better? Hope makes you flee desperately. It's their game, with no winning path. Breaking the rules is the only way out. Believe their lies? Hide in a corner," Oran said, finishing the last bandage.
"Situation's clear. Anyone leaving?"
Silence confirmed their resolve.
"Then it's simple. We aim to survive. Everyone contributes—man, woman, young, old. Share your skills. No dead weight."
Oran displayed the Hextech Warp Gate model, proving the plan's feasibility. Humans follow leaders in chaos, and Oran, offering direction, became theirs.
Locals knew the terrain, guiding the team's split. Ivankov and Ginny headed to the shipyard to recruit craftsmen for a rendezvous. Oran kept his ship hidden, cautious.
He led others to a nearby granary for supplies.
Before parting, Oran pulled Ivankov and Ginny aside, trusting them most as his first allies. "Ivan, your net gun can fire other rounds. Nets won't always scare enemies. When needed, can you shoot?"
"Haha, count on me. I won't hesitate," Ivankov said, taking special ammo from Oran, who then grabbed purple syringes from a storage box.
(Chapter End)