• ONE HOUR LATER, THE BEACH OF EL CABANA, 1540 HOURS.

The sun was gone. But the horizon was splashed in the most lively colors. The weather was still moody but Eotigan was loving it. He was of the mind that if there was ever a time to leave the shores of crocodile island, it was now. He hesitated to ask what exactly the village sacrificed to Mother Diamante though.

A thousand cows for real could not feed a giant, flesh-eating bitch like Mother Diamante, whom was the approximate size of an isle. The entire island was her back. You couldn’t play with the diet of a Kaiju; she might just roll over and drown everybody in the middle of the Cold Sea.

As a once proud owner of Sakuharu, the [Sand Worm] Kaiju, that had once terrorized the region of the Bonelands up to Caer Mullhen, it was pretty fulfilling to have a pet the size of a town. The [Anima Dios] had once said about the Tetramorphs, "if by a Gold Saint in a battlefield one can assume the sea of consciousness of a Martyr, then by a Beast, one can imagine the terror of the unrevealed earth."

Obviously this quote was famous in the Age of Baeleon, Eotigan had read, when [Etheria] was a magic so pure and free you could wipe it off a bull’s butt in the marketplace.

Etheria, the god juice, in its most lay translation. The premium shit—if you wanted a clean mana source that is. Kaos was its counterpart, and unlike the former, the denizens and acolytes of the Abyss had preserved their own [Aether] in its purest, darkest, corrupt state. Eotigan could recall his art lessons and the paintings he would draw that’d make Lilith so smitten; a stick figure devil family was never complete without a flaming Kaos lamp in the background.

These days, people sold [Etherium] pills for five hundred a pop. And this was the stepped-down shit.

How the realms of men had fallen?

"—Lord Host?" Eotigan felt a hand on his lower back. He stopped contemplating the unfavorable odds of man in the likely event of another Hellion rise, and he turned. He already knew which girl of his harem stood behind him; Inaia was the only one who defiantly and sweetly called him her Lord Host everytime. In the heat of passion it could morph into a stretched-out ’Dominus.’ Even if he should turned and openly tell her, "yes, slave?" She would still be into it.

So that’s exactly what he did. Eotigan moved his head but not his body. "Yes, slave?"

Inaia’s hazel eyes widened excitedly. She cleared her throat. "U-uh, the village, m’lord, they’re all here to see us off."

It was then Eotigan looked. Really looked. Not the distant expression he’d had for four minutes now. He, and the girls stood on the highest deck of his warship. Their bodies faced shore, backs to the horizon. If the warship was nearly totally gold before, after this trip to El Cabana, it might as well be a feature for the pages of Paradise—the book. It’s exterior was luxurious gold.

Panda Chief secretly had his goldsmiths busy all the while he was entertaining his guests. From left to right, on the railing of pure smithed gold, Kambili, Inaia, Eotigan, and Thyra. Thyra last on the right, because Thyra would not accept being third on the left.

"Huh?" Eotigan regarded the polished skin crowd. All the village, forty yards from the wood dock where his vessel rose as a young mountain. Kambili voiced what he was thinking in that instant, as they all gazed upon the smiling folk below, "now I get why they have to be secluded. These are probably the last cult of good people on earth."

"Cult of good people," Eotigan recited with a smile, "I like it."

"Definitely saving that." Inaia added, softly oohing the other tomboy. Kambili shook her head at her, but her blush still showed. "He’s coming up." Thyra pointed. They all saw the round Chieftain of El Cabana pulling up their little, fold-up plank, his garments gathered around himself with his chubby hand. The Eagle feathers in his Zulai bronze crown stirred in the evening winds. Around him agile men loaded up the warship with everything from fruits to rare, penal ointments.

’Did that medium say my dick is too big, or something—’ Eotigan laughed within him.

Looking at Panda Chief start up the longplank, he didn’t want the man burning his heart out on the levels of his ship. Percival van Tuane, a masquerading pirate faerie had built the vessel; the steps were brutal. And the thing had four levels, like some naval Pagoda. Eotigan knew for sure Panda Chief would die before he hit the third rim. "I don’t want no dead devotee on my ship," his wolverine eyes made contact with his [subservíena]—her hot corporeal form, "Inaia, give Panda Chief a hand, will you?"

Inaia nodded, just as Kambili chuckled, "more like two legs."

[DING!]

[ Umbrage Skill Equipped! ]

[LORE: Feet of Mercury.]

[PATRON: The Titan, Blastous.]

Eotigan could see the [Rank S] golden screen in his head, going off with more attributes and aux arsenals, all this through his mind’s eye. But with his real vision he also saw exactly when the air sliced out from under Panda Chief as the magic hit. Two whirling shadows, fragmenting roughly in the shape of boots coalesced in front of the fat man.

Eotigan nodded back from above when the Chieftain looked up, unsure. When compared to four flights of stairs, Panda Chief’s heart could handle Kaos magic better.

The shade boots were a step up from the usual black aegis ’Israfel’ had once used everytime he needed to make a big jump or ascend quickly. Well now he could fly—without requiring to sprout his wings, nonetheless, these boots were useful to gift others in situations like this. They could flow at falcon speed, shoot the wearer up to 6000ft in one leap, had inbuilt feet-warming—and it came in variant custom-makes.

Panda Chief was currently slipping into the UGG boots version.

SWOOOOONNN—

He was up to the fourth level in less than a minute. "Namör’s balls!" Panda Chief cussed as he came up eye-to-eye with Eotigan. While the handsome ginger stood on the verandah of his rich vessel, wearing a lopsided grin, the Chieftain of El Cabana floated off the ship’s gilded side—in ugg boots born of arcane shadow. Panda Chief talked fast: "Calypso’s large tits! Just who did we receive on our island. Your humility is inspiring, Sergeant Lars." He said this into Eotigan’s eyes. "Please accept the measure of the gifts we have impregnated your vessel with. It is from El Cabana to you."

Panda Chief paused to look behind briefly at his gathered people. If they were surprised to see their chubby, easy Chief levitating in lambswool, the revealed mystery of their visitors sure beat that in their minds. Every villager on the beach was like, "no way that red-haired rogue is a naval officer!"

"His name being Sergeant Lars is as real as our Chief’s ugg boots." One brown dude actually said this aloud, causing moments of united laughter.

Eotigan chuckled where he stood. They were right. But he’d only let the cat out of the bag—and let them pet it because he was leaving. No harm, no foul. It’d be a shame it some psycho acolyte of the Principalities brought a repeat of Stormanos on this serene island. A fucking terror.

"Your hospitality is second to none, Chief." Eotigan offered to Panda Chief, meaning it. "Quick question though, what does Mother Diamante eat?"

—and for the first time since stumbling into their fire festival, Eotigan saw the Chieftain look and not smile. "Our sacrifice is ours." Panda Chief expressly told all watching. Below, on the colored beach, the villagers nodded and murmured in agreement. Eotigan nodded too. "Alright." From his side, Kambili folded her muscled arms, "like I said, a cult of good people." Panda Chief finally smiled again. Eotigan leaned in, "cult or not I better not hear you’re tossing babies into the ocean, or I’ll be back here, and those ugg boots are not gonna be the coolest thing in sight, okay?"

Panda Chief couldn’t tell if Eotigan was joking or not. His lips were spread thin—a facsimile. But the eyes, scarlet as boiling lava. The Chieftain gulped, suddenly thinking the ugg boots were not his size or something.

Eotigan abruptly clapped him on the shoulder. "Say, Chief, what’s the busiest island on this gulf? We’re so far out south we might not even be in roaming waters at all. I want my ladies always in fair weather during our voyage," Eotigan sneaked his harem a smile, "so, Chief, where’s the hot spot ’round here?"

Panda Chief scratched his head. He was thinking of the truest, but guarded reply. Because if the thinly veiled threat seconds ago was indicative of anything, it was that Eotigan was as far from an officer in the Imperial Navy as a eunuch from pussy.

"—ahem..."

Kambili was off in the far left, grinning at the fat man’s new discomfort. She knew her sire knew the village wasn’t tossing babies into the sea at Mother Diamante’s valley of razor teeth which she called a mouth, but you couldn’t be too careful these days. The slight gossip she’d begged off Inaia let her know it was her sire’s own godmother who murdered his exes. . .all of them.

Shit. Thank Noní and Baba Légba she could fight, because she wasn’t about to leave Eotigan.

"Colony," said Panda Chief, "the busiest island across is COLONY. Keep fifteen degrees west for two days; with a steady wind and unbroken sails, you can’t miss it. Her flags are said to fuck the clouds themselves."

"Ah, very poetic of them then." Eotigan just love to go into sarcasm. Fucking the clouds? Really?

How tall were the buildings in Colony? Titans Landing had some pretty shitting towers, but to literally bang the heavens. We’ll see, he reasoned. And what a name to give an island, eh?

Colony.

Eotigan could already tell there’d be no scarcity of female plunder there; perfect for his [Mission II]. Since Eotigan was apparently done talking, Inaia gave Panda Chief a final thank you from the heart and psychically willed the shade boots to drop him back to the dock. The snuggly village head hurried back to safe shore, and the departing bugle went loud.

PUUUH-PUUUUUHHHHH!!!

The golden warship was on its way. As the colossal vessels majestically coasted into dusk, the folk of El Cabana, the birthplace of the sea, waved wildly, women and children screaming from the long beach, "HAPPY SEA WAY!" Thyra and Inaia were mostly the ones waving back the isle, Eotigan was brooding, Kambili was standoffish—wondering at a certain tattooed who sat on the top of a tall Palm, doing what looked like she was rubbing one out; this woman was so far up on the forest canopy no one could see her but Kambili.

This was Najwa, the horny shaman...not that Kambili knew this.

Some time passed into early night, and under the light of the slowly appearing moon, Eotigan focused on the distant island. Sure enough, there it was—unmistakable, a fucking crocodile. The very second after that, the island was gone. It was like Mother Diamante had seen him watching.

He turned from the railing. The girls were gone too. They no longer stood with him. But then he smelled the aroma of potatoes and stew, and some other wonderful delicacy Thyra was going to serve—and Hervor’s big coolers instantly flashed in his mind. "Thank Hel for your Hervor." He was already bouncing into the dinner cabin. At the strike of seven o’clock, Inaia equipped myth on Eotigan’s [Gladorium] and a sweeping waltz began playing in every room of the ship.

It was called Bye Bye, Tropicana. And Eotigan felt exactly that as he entered the room of bright candles, warm food, and three amazing girls already sat and waiting.