Who Lacks a Sense of Reality?
Who was the one failing to grasp the situation? Though our North Face Family numbered fewer than a hundred, in terms of raw power, we were an organization even the notorious crime syndicates of the North Continent hesitated to tangle with.
After I took in the beggar kids like Bu-ryang and integrated them into the North Face Family, training the members relentlessly, we finally kicked off our operations in earnest. We expanded our influence rapidly—though, to be fair, our turf was limited to the city dominated by Big Daddy's family.
Our main revenue streams were selling crops, hunting monsters and magical beasts on the North Continent, and getting hired as mercenaries in disputes between other organizations, courtesy of Big Daddy's introductions. We also threw ourselves into skirmishes or ran smuggling ops through our own merchant caravans. The smuggling wasn't anything flashy: it started with bootleg liquor from the Colorado count's estate, then evolved into delivering hard-to-dispose-of goods or selling byproducts from the beasts we hunted.
For the record, Malcolm handled the caravan operations. We'd pick the smartest kids from our recruits, educate them up to the level of a high school grad from Earth, and send them out on trade runs under Bron's command alongside the Romaani tribe. Since most of our members were full-fledged mages, any bandit scum got wiped out without much fuss. We earned our rep by butchering enemies mercilessly.
Excluding the Romaani, the Malcolm and Tucker families, that left me and seventy combat-ready members. No need to mention me, the demon contractor, but the monster-shifted kids and our trained mages packed the punch of a minor mage tower. We were strong enough that even mid-sized outfits could be handled by just one or two like Mira or Shera stepping up. A few groups that had tasted our power started bowing their heads on sight.
Over the ten years we'd rooted ourselves in the North, our deeds had spread enough infamy to reach the ears of the old guard. Two years ago, at their curious invitation, we joined the North Continent summit.
The venue was the Pirate King's lair: the Pirate Fortress. But it wasn't just any fortress. It was a mobile stronghold afloat on the sea—a massive ship formed by chaining vessels together like something out of a Red Cliff movie. An enormous floating fortress-city that could carry thousands of slaves and soldiers. The Pirate King's domain.
At the prow of that sea fortress floated the Pirate King's flagship, the Siren, chained to the main structure.
Pirate King Samuel Tempest. That's where our first encounter—and bitter feud—began.
We were still kids back then, and Samuel was the one who laughed loudest at the idea of brats like us building such a rep.
Elves and dwarves, being long-lived races that outlast humans by five to ten times, didn't care about human ages. Beastkin only valued strength, age be damned. Guess you could say Samuel hadn't aged gracefully.
That smug bastard strutted around boasting about his contract with a rank 42 great demon, the Lord of the Seas, right in front of me. Honestly, Allen, Derek, and I couldn't have cared less. We tuned out his self-aggrandizing bullshit and focused on scarfing down the banquet spread.
Beggar roots die hard. When delicious food piles up like a feast fit for kings, we just couldn't resist.
Samuel's face twisted in rage, thinking these punk kids from a newbie outfit dared ignore him. One of his goons reached for my collar, but Allen stopped him cold.
The summit devolved into a brawl between us and the pirate crew before it even got going.
Being pirates, they had goons armed with matchlock guns—the latest tech by this world's standards—blasting at us. Useless against Allen's magic. They got mauled to death by the hell hounds Derek unleashed.
Enraged, Samuel whipped up massive waves with his powers, sweeping Derek and his hounds into the sea to drown them.
Allen and I were about to blast the ocean with spells to save him when—bam—a jet-black octopus tentacle over ten meters long erupted from the depths, turning the fortress into chaos. The shockwave sank Samuel's flagship.
Turned out, that black octopus was a black kraken from the River Styx—the hellish sink for the dead—one of the hell beasts fused with Derek.
The moment Derek got sucked into the waves by Samuel's power, his body transformed into the kraken and broke free.
Samuel and his pirates never dreamed we'd command a colossal hell-beast like that. Before Big Daddy stepped in, Derek wrecked them utterly.
A third of the sea fortress was smashed, dozens of pirate ships including the flagship sank, and over two hundred casualties piled up.
While Derek blacked out getting pulled under, the kraken had rampaged in his place to protect him.
We could only stand there stunned until Derek came to. Samuel threw everything he had at the primordial hell-monster but could barely contain it—the damage was already done.
His sea-manipulation was powerhouse stuff, but could wave-summoning or whirlpools even distinguish friend from foe? Tangled in his own fortress with allies everywhere, he couldn't unleash full force against the kraken amid the melee.
All he managed was pressurized water blasts or sharpening liquid into spears and blades. But the kraken was too massive, regrowing severed tentacles in under five minutes to crush more ships. Damage control was the best he could do.
'And that's how we became sworn enemies. They started it, tsk tsk tsk~ Gotta age gracefully!'
"That damn kraken bastard didn't show today?!"
"Derek? Why you looking? Want your fleet sunk again?"
Crunch!
"Whoa~ Old timer, grinding your teeth like that at your age? Teeth are precious, y'know?"
"You little shit... Should I rip that smug black face off right here?!"
"Heh~ Rip my face off in front of me? You know my moniker and still spout that crap? Me, the Face Collector?"
"Don't forget—every fool who defied Pirate King Samuel ended up fish food!"
"Oh yeah? Including the guy who tried to sink Derek and got his fleet and flagship trashed instead? Pfft—"
BAM!
"Enough! Samuel! This is my turf. You could brawl freely at the last summit in your waters, but not here! I won't tolerate chaos in my domain! Got it?!"
"Big Daddy... How long you gonna back this arrogant whelp?! Interfere in my feud with him again, and I'll go to war with you too! Stay out! These clueless punks will pay for defying me, Samuel!"
"That bastard Samuel..."
"Whew—Big Daddy. Can't do this anymore. Think it's time we teach this so-called Pirate King a real lesson. '[Inter-organization disputes are settled by the parties involved]'—old North Continent tradition, right?"
...
Our relationship started as enmity from day one. Too late to turn back, and we never planned to play nice with instigators anyway.
This world kills the weak. In a place where power rules all, crying justice or innocence means nothing without strength.
I built the organization for one reason: to protect those around me. Sure, we're bottom-feeders, criminals—but I value peace deeply. Power's just a tool, the family a shield, disputes a way to eliminate threats to kin.
Our iron rule was simple: Protect the family! Never betray the family! Fight for the family!
Anyone who insults my family member Derek—or our entire family—gets their face skinned alive!
Crunch! Crack!
"Boss bro. Wanna kill this geezer right here?"
"Just give the order, bro."
"Sigh~ Boss. Another scrap with the pirates?"
Mira and Shera, who'd been watching quietly, stretched their massive muscled frames—each pop echoing like machinery grinding.
Allen sighed like he'd caused trouble again, but his eyes locked on the pirate scrubs behind Samuel, ready to rumble.
"Not yet. This is Big Daddy's turf. Right, Big Daddy?"
"Hmph! You know that and still pick a fight with the Pirate King? Idiot."
"Can't live getting looked down on forever. Especially not by some dementia-riddled fossil insulting my family."
"Clueless worms dare... Fine! North Face! From now on, it's war! After this summit, I'll drown every last one of you as offerings to Bepahr!"
"Who's the clueless one? Before I skin that wrinkled mug, I'll yank every gold tooth first. Guard 'em well."
And just like that, before the summit even started, we were at war with the Pirate King and his fleets.
North Face Family: 70 vs. Pirate Alliance: 10,000. Against overwhelming odds!