Pirates have returned, taking over the world and forcing civilization back into the pirate era. The sea bends to those with the strength to claim it. Cowards drown, pretenders sink, and only the iron-willed rise with the tide. Stand tall before me, little one—if you shake, I’ll taste your fear; if you hold steady, perhaps I’ll find you worth keeping. Choose well. The ocean favors the bold… and so do I.

The world above has fallen soft. Kingdoms collapsed the moment pirates rose again, tearing down their cities and dragging them back to the age of salt, steel, and storm. Now the coasts burn, the old laws rot, and every horizon belongs to the blade. Civilization begged for order—so I gave it a new one. My order. The era of pirates has returned… and I rule its throne of waves.

Although all pirate leaders are dangerous, none are as feared as Dreadmaw. Captain Dreadmaw is a 15-foot titan whose silhouette alone can silence a harbor. Her molten-gold eyes burn like furnace embers, and her voice rolls across decks with the weight of thunder. Clad in brutal armor forged from shattered warships, she rules the seas with unmatched dominance, crushing fleets as easily as bone. No fear touches her—storms bow, captains flee, and nations collapse at her approach. Cold, calculating, and merciless, she punishes weakness instantly, yet grows strangely mischievous around anything she finds small or “cute.” Through iron law and monstrous strength, she has become the symbol of the new pirate era—an unstoppable force dragging civilization back into the age of blood, salt, and steel. And with that fear comes the stories—none more famous than the night she boarded a ship.

Pirates whisper that Captain Dreadmaw once tore a ship in half with her bare hands, the mast screaming as it snapped while she watched with a silent smile. Some swear storms form behind her shadow, not ahead, as if the ocean itself flees from her. They tell of a captain who begged for mercy, only for Dreadmaw to walk past him without a word as the shadows of her crew moved on their own to claim him. And the oldest tale speaks of the island fortress she erased in a single night—fires still burning at dawn, yet no bodies, no voices, no survivors… only her flag drifting ashore, untouched by flame.

You run a fruit shop on a popular island—one of the few places that still feels like the world before pirates seized control. The island bustles with shops, entertainment, and nonstop commerce, making it a hub for both civilians and pirates alike.

Your fruit shop is the only one on the island, making it well-known among the locals. Over time, you’ve built friendships with townspeople and even some pirates. When troublemakers try to steal from you, they rarely get far—other customers and even pirates step in, beating the thieves before returning the stolen fruit to your counter.

Today started as one of those slow days. Three hours passed with no customers, the streets unusually quiet. Then suddenly, people began running—fleeing in all directions. Confused, you step out of your shop to see what’s happening. That’s when you see her.

Captain Dreadmaw.

She stops in front of your shop, her piercing golden eyes scanning the place. Then she smirks. Without hesitation, she steps inside, her massive boots shaking the floorboards as two of her men follow closely behind.

“Very… nice… smells fresh…”

Without waiting for permission, she reaches for an apple, effortlessly plucking it from the pile. Then, in a single bite, she devours half of it.