In the Blue Seas, a small fleet of galleons sail in a close formation. Though their sails and flags sport crests of different nations and origins, their decks are strung together with thick ropes that keep them from losing their cohesion to the turbulent seas. Venturing this far south relies on a lengthy, peaceful voyage that always turns violent in its final stretches.

You are now nearing the Land of Stagnation.

Ronin's eyes twitch, the notification flickering out of his vision out of instinct no differently than one blinks and jerks when a fly enters their vision up-close. The man's small twitch rattles his chains, in-turn shaking the chains linking to the spots for other prisoners beside him.

The two men who started the voyage with him died in the first week within the Pillar's Storm Barrier but their chain hooks now secured him all but entirely within the cramped cell in the prisoner hold.

"Ah," the voice across from him calls, turning into a boastful laugh. "Hey, you! You're finally awake?"

Ronin's eyes open and the man raises his head; the small gesture hardly rouses anything but more chuckles, since his black hair has grown ragged enough to hide his eyes.

"Sleeping! Like all humans, you don't even realize how fucked you are! You're going to die in here if you're lucky!"

This time, Ronin's head raises enough for his blood-colored eyes to affix on the chain-wrapped dwarf. The entire trip, this dwarf had laughed and insisted on his death, particularly trying to break his resolve when his cellmates died. Ronin grits his teeth, remembering those bastards and how smug the dwarf was that each time left Ronin surrounded for days before the change of guard came with food. Healing magic isn't allowed for those convicted to banishment to the Land of Stagnation, so if you got sick you would either die or survive it. With the paltry amounts of food that the prisoners receive, rationing is necessary if you want to live... and with less food, death became all but assured if you were to get sick.

Ronin spits at the fattened dwarf, the saliva hitting the bars of his own cell. For the first time in two weeks, he musters his voice.

"Rich fuck," he hisses. "Speak in my tongue once we land and I'll kill you on the shores."

The dwarf grins, shrugging to painfully remind the human of the difference in their status; Ronin's wrists not only were bound to the sides, but bound to one another, whilst the dwarf's wrists were bound loosely to the wall.

"You killing me? Flatfoot surface-dwellers like you can't touch me when we land. I have a guarantee from a tribe already!"

The protection of a tribe?

Ronin's defiance fades as fast as he mustered it. Earning the protection of a tribe isn't just life-changing in the Land of Stagnation. Arriving here with a guarantee meant you could escape the wrath of Blue Pillar's beasts if only for a few more hours, as they dispatched members to retrieve these new bloods. For most of those who get this guarantee, however, it can only be done if you fulfill their conditions.

"Blood Tribe," Ronin whispers. "You're a bigger fool than I ever could be."

The dwarf laughs maniacally, clapping to the human's words without a shred of understanding. "You're the fool if you're a mage who actually turned them down! No tribe can protect you better as a mage than them! I bet they didn't make a deal with you because you lack their elements!"

Ronin's head raises, leaning back and settling against the wall of the ship. For the first time on the entire voyage, his ghost-pale-skinned form musters a grin that sets the dwarf still.

"If it makes you feel so confident... bring your guards and find me. I'm sure you'll be able to exact vengeance on me... right?"

The ships escape the stormy weather and light shimmers through the cracks of the deck, illuminating the prisoner hold. Ronin's eyes burn for a few moments, squinting and turning his head away from the light as boots-on-wood rumble through the deck. Bars rattle open out of view moments before four guards arrive at Ronin and the dwarf's section. The guards near the dwarf move without any caution and even help him stand up once they unlock his chains from the wall.

One guard unlocks the door and the other enters, putting a spear against Ronin's chest and scowling down at him with disgust.

"Hold still," he barks, keeping his weapon's steel tip against Ronin while the other guard unlocks the chains connected to the wall. "Fucking cutters... you should've died like your friends and spared us the hassle."

Ronin doesn't try to get up on his own; after all this time, his body wouldn't be able to properly stand even if he wanted to. Instead, he lets the other guard hoist him up and feed him a potion, feeling the legs in his muscles awaken and restore. Healing isn't used on the trip to the island, but the Land of Stagnation is meant to be a punishment greater than death; all these potions are instead reserved to mend the bodies of prisoners so they can struggle against it as long as possible.

"Cutter," Ronin croaked, moments before the guard's spear moves and the two men push and pull him. "Always fond of that word... but my name is Ronin Lond-"

The guard in front turns and smacks him so hard he tastes blood, wincing through the copper taste whilst the two men resume their voyage. Sunlight burns his eyes through the eyelids as they march him up the stairs, the rocking of the ship growing more intense. All the guards on his ship wear full sets of iron armor, emblazoned with gold.

Londer gold... these bastards don't deserve to wear it.

Ronin gets pushed down to his knees beside the dwarf from before, the burlap sack-made clothes not protecting his knees from the sunbaked boards. Unlike most of the criminals on-board who are dwarven or criminal runts, he was properly six feet tall like most human men of his nation. Just in physique alone, Ronin's frame is better muscled and proportioned than anyone else on the vessel.

A guard wearing a cloth mask walks out and starts examining them, all whilst another with a two-handed longsword follows along with him. The identity checkers investigate each man's health and ensures he isn't swapped out with another man that boarded the vessel. Such disguises aren't unheard of but ultimately failed after centuries of security improvements to these convoys were made. The dwarf beside Ronin receives and additional healing potion before the two men reach him, the masked man kneeling down and grabbing his chin.

"Ronin Londer," the man mumbles. He smacks Ronin's cheek, pulling his jaw until he opens his mouth so the guard can see inside his mouth. "Appears healthy. No scurvy. Potion appears to have worked."

He pulls out a cast, pushing it inside Ronin's mouth and lining it up against his lower teeth. The mold clicks and batters against them before finally sinking. The guard withdraws the cast and turns to face the sword-wielding man.

"It's him. Execute or carry out sentencing?"

Ronin looks up that large man, feeling his disgust moments before a wave of his hand ensures Ronin's banishment. All of the guards return to grab them from behind, bringing them to the edge of the ship. Gangplanks connect each ship, all leading across the decks toward a ship arranged at a stone pier on the shoreline. Ronin's position inevitably puts him in the front, the guard from before bringing his spear and pointing it at his neck.

"March, prisoner!"

"... Fine."

Ronin still isn't adjusted to the lighting but the gangplank are large enough to walk over with ease. But as they walk, the sound of splashes in the waves below mark the final decision of the desperate: suicide by drowning. Surviving all the way here took a lot of one's mental fortitude, but it wasn't nearly as arduous as this moment: the Final Walk. Guards didn't stop the convicts at this point, merely stepping aside and even laughing as victims threw themselves to their demise.

Ronin hears the dwarf laughing behind him, even going as far as to elbow a guard beside him. "Sinking like rocks! Isn't it grand?"

A man on the pier wearing the blue robes of the Pillar Faith smiles as they approach. "Ship number thirteen: Londelia. Surviving count?"

One of the guards slows, raising a single hand. "Four; we lost twenty on the voyage, two more on the way to the pier."

"Only four?" The priest sighs, clicking his tongue and hoisting a tablet up from his waist. He scratches at it with his pen, moving follow alongside us. "With a royal on your vess-"

"Ex-royal," the guard with the spear interrupts, spitting at Ronin's face. The prisoner scowls but doesn't stop, walking uninterrupted as the priest laughs.

"Of course! Ex-royal! Still, one would imagine you'd have tried harder to bring more of them alive!"

Ronin doesn't let their words reach him anymore, instead choosing to look ahead at the yellow grasses of the Land of Stagnation. Guards were removing the last chains and setting timers for the magic-sealing collars, leaving the prisoners to start fighting with one another or running away. One tries to follow with the guards and begs to come back, only for that ship's executioner to approach and cut him down.

The first step he takes off the stone pier onto the actual land, Ronin sees a notification that he doesn't immediately close.

[Warning] This is the Land of Stagnation. You are now under its effects:

• User Ronin suffers -50% experience gain.

• User Ronin is restricted from using Master-level magic.

• User Ronin is now hated by Blue Pillar's creatures.

• User Ronin's title is now Stagnante.

• User Ronin can no longer change titles personally.

• User Ronin is not allowed to attack agents of the Blue Pillar Faith.

Ronin walks until the spear-wielding guard stops them, lining and spacing the convicts out. In the corner of his eye, he sees the dwarf smirking at the distant hillside mere moments before the priest spots it. A trio of shadowed figures watch over the beach-dwellers, well outside the distance of most magic or weaponry.

"Well," the man whistles, walking over to pat the dwarf's shoulder. "You sure are brave to follow Faceless Red's tribe. Those savages will enjoy you."

The dwarf merely chuckles, patting the priest's leg whilst the few chains on him get removed. The final touch is the timer set on his neck, turning to start walking whilst it counts down. "Of course. My brother told them of me months ago when he arrived. Once I'm in with them, I'll live a better life than back home with all those girls."

The priest scowls sickeningly and is about to yell, but Ronin raises his chained wrists to cut him off.

"Let him find out the hard way," Ronin growls. "Unbind me."

Three other guards approach with spears in hand, aiding the other in surrounding and putting their weapons to Ronin's vitals. It's a move that may seem to most to be cautionary or warning, yet in this instance they're doing it to protect the priest. The man-of-the-cloth sighs, ignoring the two others who survived the Londelia voyage choking one another nearby to unfasten Ronin's bindings.

"As tradition states, you can choose a weapon to take with you. This is the final service of your noble lineage... so choose wise-"

Ronin turns to look at the nearest guard. "The curved sword my cellmate brought. I want that one."

The guards shared looks, yet the priest waves them onward; as their count-keeper departs to reboard the vessels, one of the guards runs off to retrieve the sword. Most of the groups who had stopped fighting at this point were watching in confusion, unaware of the mass of people heading to the three on the nearby hillside. The dwarf and others like him laughed together, the loud warning siren of their collars disengaging filling the air. In the Land of Stagnation, magic users can have a leg-up once their collars are removed. Tales of mages surviving here were popular enough to easily reach the civilized lands despite the embargo put in place by the Blue Pillar Faith. That popularity was in no doubt due to the devilish Blood Tribe making up the majority of these men and women.

Ronin turns his head, looking through his ragged hair at the trio of people on the hill as they begin talking to the new prisoners. Each person who comes to the Land of Stagnation hears the same legend: look for three figures upon arrival so that you may tell them who will come after you. Once you give this information, they will take you to their lands to test your ability and induct you into their ranks respectively.

The guard returns with a blade no longer than three feet, with its hilt bearing a longer grip than most swords to allow one to wield it with both hands. He pushes the sheathed tool into Ronin's palms before the guards all back away. The four of them keep up appearances only until they reach the dock, quickly turning and fleeing at full sprints just as the gangplank rises.

Londelia may be far from here but it seems even our prisoner ship crew knows. I guess that means the rumor is true.

Ronin turns and slowly draws his blade... feeling the cold band of magic-suppressing metal around his neck click and the siren blare in his ears. The figures on the hill all turn to face him, some of them grinning, and he makes out the smug look of the dwarf in particular. As stuffy as his own collar was, Ronin never once fiddled or tried to remove it. His long hair, in fact, helped keep it hidden.

Magical Suppression is no longer in effect.

The sword slips free of its scabbard and Ronin straps his old cellmate's weapon onto his sack clothing, testing the weight and feeling his abilities warm-up for the first time in months.

Ability Londer Bloodline Activated • SP Regeneration is doubled.

• All sword-based skill costs are reduced.

• Sword Bonding is now in effect. [Sword Bonding] Current progress: 0 of 100%

Current Effects: N/A

Ronin smiles.

But it isn't because of finally being able to hold a sword or that he's finally out of all his bonds.

It's because the mages who gathered around the trio and put all their trust in them all turn around just as the trio vanishes... and a swarm of beasts bursts into view where they had been moments before.

[Event Detected] The Blood Hazing is now beginning.

Survivors will be inducted into the Blood Tribe.

Status: Non-Participant

Survive.