WORLD PARADISE

Five years had passed.

Yet the memory of that night never faded.

The Beast had never returned.

The village continued its routine of dread, surviving each night under the looming terror of the regular night crawlers. Before sunset, doors were locked, and flames were lit, standing as the last defense against the creatures that lurked in the darkness.

The villagers still spoke of the tragedy, their grief fueling their hatred. Though time had passed, their wrath had not diminished. The name "Yami" was still a curse on their tongues, a symbol of their suffering.

And now, on the eve of his execution, the village prepared for the final act of their justice.

Yami sat in darkness.

His chains bound him tightly, his wrists, ankles, and even his neck shackled to the cold, damp walls of his cell. The iron had rusted over time, cutting into his skin, leaving deep scars from years of confinement.

His head hung low, his long black hair spilling over his face and onto the filthy ground. Once a boy, he was now a lifeless husk. His body had wasted away, his ribs pressing against his skin. His clothes, tattered beyond recognition, clung to him in rags.

The stench of rot and filth filled the air, as if decay itself had made a home in his cell. The walls were slick with moisture, the stone floor coated in grime. No light had touched this place in years.

It was as if he had not bathed since the day he was thrown in here. His own scent mixed with the foul stench of waste, death, and neglect. The air was so thick with it that even breathing was a punishment.

He had lost all hope.

His parents' words "Survive, Yami " had long since faded into distant echoes.

He had given up.

Tomorrow, he would die.

And he no longer cared.

It was early in the morning, so early that being outside 5 minutes earlier would get you face to face with a night crawler, it was as if planned.

The silence of the cell was disturbed by the faintest sound of footsteps .

At first, Yami didn't react.

The footsteps grew louder, steady and confident. They were not those of the guards who always walked in a sluggish, lazy manner. No, these steps carried purpose.

A clean swipe rang through the air.

The lock of the cell split perfectly in two.

The heavy metal door creaked open.

A figure stepped inside, his presence sharp like a blade.

A hand touched Yami's shoulder.

"You don't have much time," the voice said.

Yami's head lifted slightly, his dull, lifeless eyes struggling to focus.

The man before him was Nobizo.

The village drunkard.

The man who had been ridiculed and laughed at for years.

The one person who had defended him five years ago.

Yami blinked.

Nobizo wasn't drunk.

His posture was firm, his eyes sharp, and in his hand was a sword. A sword that had cut through the cell lock with a flawless strike.

It didn't make sense.

Nobizo had never been a warrior.

"You… how…?" Yami's voice was hoarse, barely a whisper.

"There's no time for questions," Nobizo interrupted. "I'm sure you remember what the Beast said that night, about the world beyond this island?"

Yami nodded slowly.

Nobizo pulled out a map and handed it to him.

"Go west. That's where your journey begins."

With another clean swipe, the sword cut through Yami's chains.

The precision was flawless.

The iron bindings snapped apart as if they were made of paper.

Yami stared at the broken chains, then at Nobizo.

The question formed in his mind.

"Has this old man really been to the World Paradise?"

"I'm sure you've learned the ways of the sea, right?" Nobizo asked.

Yami remained silent, gripping the map tightly.

"Then go. Before the guards resume ."

Nobizo's urgency was unmistakable. He was hiding many things, his past, his skills, but now was not the time for answers.

Yami's parents' words echoed in his ears once more.

"Survive, Yami."

This was his chance.

Yami knew where to go.

The location of the twelve Hakudo Maru was a place commonly known by their heirs. His father had once brought him there, long ago, before everything had been taken from him.

The ship awaited.

And he wasn't alone.

As Yami arrived at the hidden cave where the Hakudo Maru was kept, he saw four figures waiting for him.

Two young men. Two young women.

All around his age.

They were familiar faces, children he had once played with before the tragedy. Also friends of the deceased Oda.

The first to speak was Renjiro (蓮次郎), a tall young man with sharp features.

"Old man Nobizo already had this planned," Renjiro said. "None of us are heirs to a Hakudo Maru, but we all want to leave this cursed village. You're the key, Yami."

The second, Shin (真), crossed his arms.

"I hope you actually know how to sail," he said.

The third, Sakura (桜), stepped forward, her voice gentle.

"The villagers blamed you, but we know the truth. You were a victim, just like us," she whispered. "We're sorry, Yami."

The last, Hinata (日向) bearing the same name with his mother, nodded.

"Let's leave this place. Together."

Yami took a deep breath.

There was no time for hesitation.

The ship was massive, hidden deep within the cave. Its hull was old yet sturdy, carved with intricate symbols of the Hakudo lineage.

The group worked fast.

They secured provisions, checked the sails, and made sure the rudder was intact.

The cave opened into a river, but to an untrained eye, it would seem like a dead end. Only those who knew the right path could navigate the hidden route to the open sea.

Yami took the helm.

His hands trembled slightly as they gripped the controls.

"I can do this."

The ropes were untied.

The wind caught the sails.

The Hakudo Maru began to move.

Nobizo could not join them.

He had known this from the start.

By the time the village discovered Yami's escape, they would suspect him immediately.

Rather than run, Nobizo chose to confess.

He would take the blame.

He would buy them time.

By the time the villagers learned of Yami's escape, the ship had already left the island far behind.

Nobizo was imprisoned.

But he smiled.

Because Yami was free.

The sea stretched endlessly before them, a vast, shimmering expanse of blue.

The sky was clear, the wind perfect for sailing.

The air smelled of salt and freedom.

For the first time in five years, Yami breathed.

And as the island disappeared into the distance, he whispered the words he had once forgotten.

"Survive, Yami."