Chapter 666 - 554: Wedding

Chapter 666: Chapter 554: Wedding

"Serrated Anchor?"

Hearing this, Roland ignored Holland’s teasing look and asked directly.

"Holland, do you recognize the person or faction this emblem represents?"

"Of course."

Seeing Roland’s serious expression, Holland dropped his playful demeanor and nodded lightly.

"Anyone who’s sailed these waters a few times has heard of the Serrated Anchor. They’re a faction based out of the Split Scale Islands. A woman leads them, and her style is... well, let’s just say ’direct’."

"The islands aren’t too far from the Broken Star Sea, but their location is a bit unique—right up against the High Tower’s sphere of influence."

He paused, then added,

"The Caster lords from the High Tower aren’t easy to deal with. If we go there, we’d best keep our heads down."

"High Tower?"

The name wasn’t unfamiliar to Roland.

In the "future" timeline where Magic Power had waned, the "High Tower" was the collective name for the few Wizard organizations and strongholds that could still maintain the fundamental traditions of Casting.

But from Holland’s tone, it seemed to have a different meaning and status in this "past" era, which was rich with Magic Power.

"High Tower... Hmph!"

Listening to Holland’s description, Ellis, who was sitting to one side, let out a clear, disdainful snort.

A trace of almost instinctual contempt, born of his orthodox academy origins, surfaced on his pale face.

"’The High Tower?’ It’s nothing more than a place where a bunch of ’Wild Mages’ and ’Magic Trash’—who lack systematic training and grope for Power through scattered forbidden knowledge and dangerous experiments—huddle together for warmth. Or maybe some lucky ones with an Awakening in their bloodline."

His tone was sharp, laced with a deep-seated sense of superiority.

"They might have mastered some... ’visually impressive’ tricks, or gained extraordinary Power through their innate talents, but when it comes to the profundity of Arcane Magic, the rigor of its systems, or the understanding of Magic’s true nature, they can’t even be compared to a real Arcane Academy. They’re just a motley crew walking on the edge of a blade."

Hearing Ellis’s blunt assessment, Holland wasn’t annoyed in the least. Instead, he grinned, revealing a set of pearly white teeth, and deliberately nudged Ellis with his elbow.

"Hey, Ellis, you can’t say that. Strictly speaking, now that you’ve left the Academy and are wandering around, haven’t you become one of those ’Wild Mages’ you’re talking about? Don’t put down your own kind!"

"You!"

Ellis reacted as if someone had stepped on his tail. He whipped his head around, his pale cheeks instantly flushing red, his lips trembling with anger.

Holland’s crude jest had precisely struck the insecurity and conflict deep within him, stemming from his departure from the orthodox system.

"I... I am merely conducting necessary research travels! That’s completely different from those... those..."

For a moment, he couldn’t find the right words to retort. He just glared at Holland, his eyes practically shooting fire.

Seeing that the two were about to fall into another endless, off-topic argument, Roland rubbed his temples with a budding headache.

Compared to the generally calm and efficient team he remembered—composed of people like Teresa, Galvis, and Avril—these two companions before him...

...were just a bit too "lively."

"Enough."

Roland’s calm voice cut off the escalating dispute.

He then gently rolled up the Sheepskin Scroll in his hand and turned his gaze back to Holland, skillfully pulling the topic back on track.

"Holland, what do you know about the Serrated Anchor’s specific strongholds in the Split Scale Islands? For instance, the islands they frequent, or if they have any permanent docks or anchorages?"

Seeing Roland get serious, Holland reined in his playful attitude and stroked his chin, recalling.

"I can’t say which specific island. The Split Scale Islands are a mess of small isles and reefs, almost as tricky as this place. But the Serrated Anchor’s name carries weight on the larger islands there, especially Old Tooth Bay and Rusted Chain Town. I hear they have people stationed there permanently. They probably handle their resupplying and fencing of goods there, too."

"That woman... ahem, their leader, her movements are unpredictable. But if you want to find their people to ask around or ’do business,’ trying your luck in those two places is your best bet."

He glanced at the still-pouting Ellis and added,

"It’s better than studying rocks and water here, anyway."

Roland nodded, committing Holland’s information to memory, then looked up at the sky.

Twilight had deepened, and mist drifted slowly over the ink-black surface of the water.

"We shouldn’t delay."

He made his decision.

"We’ll head for the Split Scale Islands as soon as possible. Does anyone else need to rest?"

At the question, Black Wind lowered its massive head. The ghostly fire in its eyes flickered gently, conveying the thought: ’Ready to leave at any time.’

The long, weighted flight had clearly taken a toll on it, but as a creature of the Otherworld, its recovery was just as astonishing.

"I’m fine."

Ellis also stood up. Although he still looked unwell, his eyes had regained their composure. He deliberately avoided looking at Holland, who was making faces at him from the side.

"It’s best we leave this place as soon as possible anyway."

Without another word, the three of them climbed back onto Black Wind’s broad spine.

This time, Roland had Black Wind forgo altitude, instead using the shadows of the reefs and the deepening night to perform a stealthy, low-altitude flight in the general direction Holland had indicated.

They advanced toward the Split Scale Islands, northeast of the Broken Star Sea’s outer edge.

Black Wind silently spread its wings. Shadow Energy enveloped its body like a living thing, carrying the three of them as they glided into the ever-deepening twilight and sea mist, soon vanishing into the eternal, Echo-filled silence of Drowned Man’s Reef.