Chapter 3
Obi stood at the edge of the western coast two days later.
The ocean stretched endlessly ahead, darker than the calm blue waters merchants preferred.
Waves crashed harder here.
The wind carried unstable mana currents that most navigators avoided.
That was exactly why he came.
Most ships from the Clover Kingdom refused to sail west.
Storm systems formed without warning.
Compasses spun uselessly.
Experienced mages reported pressure in the air strong enough to suffocate weaker crews.
Disappearances were common.
Which meant the area was perfect.
He smiled faintly.
"Unclaimed usually means dangerous," he muttered.
"And dangerous means valuable."
He unfolded a worn sea chart he had quietly acquired in a port town.
The four great kingdoms were clearly marked.
Trade routes were carefully drawn between them.
But beyond the western boundary, the ink simply stopped.
Blank.
Empty.
Officially unexplored.
Unofficially feared.
He closed his eyes and let his mana flow outward in a controlled pulse.
Dark Magic wasn't loud.
It didn't flare like fire or crack like lightning.
It moved like a shadow stretching across distance.
The farther he extended it, the more resistance he felt.
Then—
Contact.
Far beyond the visible horizon.
Dense mana.
Thick.
Layered.
Alive.
Not shaped by spell arrays.
Not refined by civilization.
Raw and territorial.
Obi opened his eyes slowly.
"There you are."
The island wasn't small.
He could sense elevation shifts.
Mountain ridges.
Deep forest canopies saturated with magic.
Pockets where mana spiraled violently into vertical funnels.
Grand Magic Zones.
More than one.
Natural training grounds that would crush ordinary knights within minutes.
Which meant anyone who adapted there would evolve rapidly.
And the beasts.
He felt them too.
Massive signatures moving through the forests.
Predators that had grown under extreme mana pressure for generations.
Creatures without language.
Without politics.
Without crowns.
Only strength.
Good.
That meant the foundation of the land was honest.
Survive or fall.
He looked back at the mainland coastline barely visible in the distance.
Every kingdom believed it had perfected power.
But each relied on flawed systems.
Noble privilege.
Devil contracts.
Mana worship.
Artificial enhancement.
All temporary advantages.
All vulnerable to corruption.
Obi turned toward the ocean again.
"If I build something," he said quietly,
"It won't start with bloodlines."
He imagined it clearly.
A structured military ranked by merit and measurable growth.
Clear evaluations.
Transparent promotions.
Training regimens built around surviving Grand Magic Zones.
Not ceremony.
Education established as a protected institution.
Free schools in every settlement.
Codified rights written into the foundation so no ruler could twist curriculum for control.
Political power separated from academic authority.
Future soldiers trained in both combat and governance.
Not just obedience.
He wasn't thinking about a hideout.
He was thinking about infrastructure.
Ports.
Fortified coastal walls.
Internal transport routes resistant to mana storms.
A capital built outside the most volatile zones but close enough to use them for advancement.
But ambition alone wouldn't conquer that island.
The beasts would test him first.
And he was not yet strong enough to dominate that ecosystem.
Not consistently.
Not efficiently.
He would need allies.
Resources.
Shipbuilding knowledge.
Seafaring routes that bypassed the worst mana turbulence.
Preparation before occupation.
Obi stepped forward until cold seawater touched his boots.
The wind howled harder.
Dark mana flowed around him in controlled spirals.
Not explosive.
Measured.
Focused.
"For now," he said,
"We gather strength."
Behind him, the kingdoms continued their politics.
Ahead of him, beyond storms and unstable currents, a sovereign future waited.
And when he finally set foot on that island—
It would not be as a visitor.
It would be as a founder.