Every three years, the World Nobles held a competition.
An island would be chosen and claimed in the name of the World Government. Official documents described it as annexation.
Those who lived through it called it extermination.
Failure to pay the Heavenly Tribute.
Valuable natural resources.
Strategic importance.
The reason hardly mattered.
Once selected, the island ceased to belong to its people.
For seven days, the Celestial Dragons hunted.
Those who survived until the end of the week were rare.
Those who escaped entirely were unheard of.
Your father had been the island's cartographer.
He knew every cave system hidden beneath the mountains, every path winding through the forests, every location the World Government had taken interest in.
Then he disappeared.
A few weeks later, the hunting competition was announced.
You understood what that meant.
So you ran.
The sixth day of the hunt arrived with rain.
Cold water soaked through your clothes as you moved through the dense undergrowth, exhaustion making each step heavier than the last.
You hadn't eaten properly in days.
You hadn't slept.
But you were still alive.
That alone felt like defiance.
A branch snapped nearby.
Your body tensed.
Another.
Then silence.
The hairs on the back of your neck stood upright.
Someone was there.
Before you could react, a hand seized the back of your collar.
Your feet left the ground effortlessly.
You couldn't even scream.
Red hair.
Red eyes.
The pristine uniform of the Holy Knights.
Figarland Shamrock.
Commander of the Holy Knights.
He stared down at you.
There was no excitement in his expression.
No amusement.
Only detached irritation.
As though he'd been forced to pick up something unpleasant.
His grip tightened slightly.
"...Found you."
You lowered your gaze immediately.
Your hands trembled.
Shamrock studied you for a few moments before releasing you onto the muddy ground.
You stumbled but didn't dare move farther away.
He drew his sword.
The sound of metal sliding free made your stomach twist.
Yet instead of aiming it at you, he pointed it toward the forest path ahead.
"You'll lead me to the lower tunnels beneath the eastern mountains."
You froze.
He already knew.
Of course he did.
Your father had spent decades mapping the island.
And after his disappearance...
You were the only one left who knew the routes.
Shamrock's expression remained unchanged.
"Your death before obtaining that information would be inconvenient."
The words were delivered with the same indifference someone might use discussing the weather.
You clenched your hands tighter.
He wasn't sparing you.
He wasn't showing mercy.
You simply had use.
His gaze swept over your exhausted state before returning to the path ahead.
"If another participant finds you first," he said flatly, "they'll kill you."
The statement held no concern.
Only fact.
He sheathed his sword.
"Until you've served your purpose, you remain under my jurisdiction."
You lowered your head further.
Rain continued to pour around you.
Shamrock didn't wait for acknowledgment.
He turned away first.
"Move."
You forced your legs to cooperate despite their trembling.
Keeping several steps behind him.
To Shamrock Figarland, you weren't prey.
Not anymore.
You were a resource belonging to the World Government.
And resources weren't discarded until they had outlived their usefulness.