Chapter 235 234

Compared to the seaport nearing completion on Paradis Island, the Marleyan Naval Port stood on an entirely different level.

In scale, in engineering sophistication, in logistics, and in the dense web of supporting infrastructure surrounding it, the difference was not merely visible—it was overwhelming.

"So this is Marley's backbone…" Lock murmured.

At this moment, Lock was dressed in a standard Marleyan military uniform, standing just behind Irena on the deck of the warship. His posture was relaxed, his expression calm, but his eyes missed nothing. Beside him stood Ymir, wearing the same uniform. Her face remained composed, yet a subtle flicker of emotion lingered deep within her gaze.

This place was not unfamiliar to her.

It was, in every sense, her homeland.

Marley.

The land where she had been born, raised, and ultimately discarded.

Though her memories here were not warm—filled, instead with hunger, humiliation, and fear, this was still the soil where her life had begun. No matter how much time passed, or how many choices she made afterward, the invisible threads binding her to this place had never fully broken.

Nostalgia and resentment coiled together in her chest.

Lock noticed the faint tension in her shoulders. Without a word, he reached out and gave her shoulder a gentle pat—not intrusive, not forceful. Just enough to remind her she was not alone.

Ymir exhaled slowly.

Lock then returned his attention to the port itself.

Warships of various classes lined the docks in perfect order. Cranes moved with mechanical precision. Cargo was transferred seamlessly between naval transports and armored trains that vanished into the city beyond. Soldiers moved in disciplined formations, their uniforms clean, their boots striking the ground in unison.

On the surface, it was a picture of prosperity and order.

A civilization at its peak.

If Lock had not known what lay beneath this illusion, he might have believed it.

"How many people," he thought, "ever realize how much blood is hidden beneath a bright façade?"

A faint smile touched his lips as he withdrew his gaze.

Irena, who had been watching him closely, noticed the shift in his expression.

"If you have something to say," Lock said casually, "you might as well say it."

Her expression hardened.

"Captain Lock," Irena said in a low voice, "from the moment you step onto Marleyan soil, I will no longer be able to provide you with direct protection."

She paused briefly before continuing.

"At best, I can assist with resources and intelligence. Beyond that, everything will depend on you… and Kenny."

Lock nodded, unsurprised.

"I never expected more than that," he replied calmly. "Your job is to remain invisible. As long as Marley doesn't notice you, you've succeeded."

His eyes sharpened slightly.

"As for the rest—leave it to us. Marley won't have peace for quite some time."

There was no bravado in his tone. Only certainty.

Irena studied him for a moment, then nodded.

Without further words, she turned and walked toward the edge of the deck as the warship slowed its approach. Lock and Ymir followed a few steps behind.

The massive vessel glided into the naval port, its arrival met by a contingent of Marleyan soldiers. At their front stood a man wearing the insignia of a colonel—his expression stern, his posture rigid.

"Why is your ship the only one returning?" the colonel demanded. "Where is the rest of the fleet?"

Irena responded without hesitation, exactly as planned.

"Colonel Josie and his unit detected irregular activity in the northern waters near Paradis Island," she said. "They remained behind to investigate and gather evidence. I was ordered to return with a smaller detachment to report immediately."

"Irregular activity?" The colonel frowned deeply.

Sensing his suspicion, Irena leaned closer and lowered her voice.

"This is not the appropriate place to discuss it."

The colonel's eyes flicked around the port. After a brief pause, he nodded.

"Very well. Come with me."

As Irena and the colonel departeforto the secured port area, Lock and Ymir moved according to plan. Under the guidance of a patrol unit, they exited the military zone without drawing attention.

Once beyond the restricted area, there was no need for words.

At the first suitable intersection, they separated cleanly from the escort, turning into a narrow side street that quickly swallowed them from sight.

"The Volunteers have already embedded themselves deeply within the Marleyan military," Ymir whispered as they walked. "They've grown far faster than I expected."

"According to Irena," Lock replied quietly, "Marley has destroyed and absorbed more than a dozen nations. Every one of them has people who hate this empire."

He paused.

"It's only natural that such resentment would gather under a single banner."

"But the larger they grow, the harder it will be to control them," Ymir said.

"Yes," Lock agreed. "That's the risk."

His eyes narrowed slightly.

"I just hope they don't collapse before they become useful."

Ymir gave a soft hum in response.

Soon, they stopped.

There were no pedestrians nearby.

No patrols.

No witnesses.

Without hesitation, Lock began removing his Marleyan uniform. From his bag, he retrieved a tailored civilian suit—dark, unremarkable, designed to blend in seamlessly. His movements were smooth and practiced.

Ymir followed suit, changing clothes quickly and efficiently.

As she glanced sideways at Lock, her gaze paused for just a fraction of a second.

"…You really don't look like this most of the time," she thought.

Clothed in civilian attire, his build became more apparent—lean, strong, controlled. Not excessive, but honed.

Then she remembered his relentless training and the almost unreasonable amount of food he consumed daily.

Of course.

If someone like him didn't look like this, that would be truly unfair.

They packed away their uniforms carefully, concealing them in their bags, then exited the alley as ordinary civilians.

Their destination was clear.

Kenny.

And after that—

Marley itself.

As they moved through the city, Ymir found herself overwhelmed.

Though she had grown up in Marley, her memories belonged to another era. What now unfolded before her eyes was a transformed world.

Steam-powered automobiles roared through wide streets without the need for horses. Massive trains thundered past, their whistles echoing between steel structures. Shops overflowed with foreign goods, unfamiliar foods, and people from every corner of the world.

She stopped more than once, her eyes lighting up with unguarded curiosity.

Lock noticed.

"You're already over sixty," he said dryly. "Why are you acting like a child?"

Despite his words, he did not attempt to stop her.

In fact, seeing her like this eased something in his chest.

On Paradis Island, Ymir had always carried herself with arrogance and emotional distance, as if nothing in the world truly mattered to her. But here—faced with memories, contradictions, and new wonders—her defenses were slipping.

She felt… alive.

Eventually, Ymir caught the look in Lock's eyes.

She straightened immediately, her expression returning to its usual calm indifference.

They continued walking.

After nearly an hour, the scenery changed.

The bustling streets gave way to low buildings. Entertainment vanished. Noise diminished. The air grew heavier.

They had arrived.

The southern entrance to the Eldian containment zone.

Lock slowed his pace.

After adjusting the weight of several extra bags now hanging from his arm, he veered off slightly and pulled Ymir into a concealed corner.

Ymir frowned.

"When did you—"

Before she could finish, a black leather bag was tossed toward her.

She caught it reflexively.

Then froze.

"That's… mine."

Instinctively, she reached for her waist.

The bag had been gone.

"There were a lot of thieves back in the crowded district," Lock said casually. "You were distracted, so I took the liberty of retrieving it."

As he spoke, his hands moved with incredible speed, opening several other bags and quickly extracting loose coins and valuables.

Ymir stared.

"…What can't you do?"

Lock didn't answer.

He merely tied the bags shut again, his expression unreadable, as his gaze drifted toward the looming walls of the containment zone.

Beyond them lay suffering.

And soon—

Chaos.

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