The sea flattened as they crossed into neutral waters.
Vale felt it before anyone said a word.
The pressure in his chest shifted—loosening, tightening, then settling into an uneasy balance. Not resistance. Not acceptance. Something in between. Like standing on ground that hadn't decided whether it would hold his weight.
Captain DD stood at the helm, eyes narrowed. "Neutral routes," he announced. "No flags. No claims. No protection."
A low murmur rippled through the crew.
Papaya leaned toward Vale. "This is where deals happen," he said quietly. "And where people disappear."
Vale nodded, gaze fixed on the distant silhouettes ahead.
Ships.
Not one or two—but many. Anchored loosely, drifting in a wide circle like predators pretending not to notice one another. Some were patched and scarred. Others sleek and well-maintained. No banners. No colors.
"Looks like a floating market," Vale said.
Alfred shook his head. "Markets have rules."
They lowered a boat and rowed toward the center.
The water here was strangely calm, reflecting the sky like dull glass. As they approached, voices carried across the surface—bargaining, threats masked as jokes, laughter edged with calculation.
The moment Vale's feet touched the wooden platform lashed between ships, the pressure in his chest reacted sharply.
Then… nothing.
It went quiet.
Too quiet.
Vale swallowed. "Alfred."
"I know," Alfred replied. "Your ability doesn't know where it stands."
People moved freely here. Goods changed hands openly. Crates were slid across planks without ceremony. No guards. No visible enforcement.
Vale watched a man lift a weapon from a crate and pass it to another without a word.
No reaction.
No pressure.
Nothing belongs to anyone, Vale realized.
Or worse—everything does.
Captain DD met with two other captains near the center platform. Their conversation was low and brief. Money exchanged hands. Information followed.
Vale stayed back, observing.
A woman brushed past him, bumping his shoulder deliberately. Her fingers dipped into his jacket.
Vale reacted on instinct.
The pressure flared.
Then vanished.
The woman was already gone.
Vale checked his pocket.
Empty.
His breath caught. "She took it."
Alfred's jaw tightened. "And?"
"And nothing happened," Vale said, panic creeping in. "No reaction. No pull."
Alfred nodded grimly. "Neutral ground. No ownership to enforce."
Vale clenched his fists. "So anyone can take anything?"
"Yes," Alfred said. "And no one is wrong."
That made his stomach twist.
A commotion broke out nearby.
Two men argued loudly over a crate. One shoved the other. A knife flashed briefly, then disappeared.
No one intervened.
Vale's chest tightened—not with pressure, but frustration.
"This is madness," he muttered.
Captain DD approached, expression unreadable. "This is freedom without structure."
Vale looked at him. "People get hurt."
Captain DD nodded. "They always do."
"Then why come here?"
Captain DD's gaze was steady. "Because sometimes the only way to move something is where nothing holds it down."
Vale didn't like that answer.
The trade concluded quickly.
As they prepared to leave, a shout cut through the noise.
"Hey! That's mine!"
A young man stood clutching a crate. Another sailor faced him, knife drawn.
The crowd shifted, forming a loose circle.
Vale felt the pressure in his chest stir—confused, searching.
The young man looked desperate. "I paid for it!"
The sailor laughed. "Here? You paid to touch it."
The knife moved closer.
Vale stepped forward.
Alfred's hand shot out, gripping his arm. "Don't."
"He's going to die," Vale hissed.
"And if you act," Alfred replied, "you might start something worse."
Vale's heart pounded.
The pressure surged—wild, unfocused.
No one creates consequences they can't carry.
The words echoed in his mind.
Vale stopped.
The sailor slashed.
The cut was shallow, but the young man screamed and dropped the crate.
Blood hit the wood.
The crowd dispersed instantly, interest gone.
Vale stood frozen.
Captain DD's voice was calm beside him. "This is neutral ground."
Vale's jaw trembled. "Then it's wrong."
Captain DD didn't argue. "Yes."
They left without further incident.
Back aboard the ship, the pressure in Vale's chest returned—settling, familiar, heavy with implication.
He leaned against the railing, breathing slowly.
"I could've stopped it," he said.
Alfred joined him. "Maybe."
Vale shook his head. "No. I could've tried."
"And if you failed?" Alfred asked. "If your power reached too far?"
Vale was silent.
Captain DD addressed the crew shortly after.
"We move on," he said. "No lingering."
The ship turned away from neutral waters, sails catching the wind.
As the floating market faded behind them, Vale felt something click into place.
"My power isn't broken here," he said quietly. "It's… unassigned."
Alfred nodded. "Neutral ground strips context. Your ability needs structure to work safely."
Vale stared at the horizon. "Then places like this are dangerous."
"Yes," Alfred said. "And necessary."
Vale exhaled. "For who?"
"For people who want to change things," Alfred replied. "Or break them."
That night, Vale couldn't sleep.
The image of blood on wood replayed in his mind.
He sat up and pressed a hand to his chest.
The pressure responded—steady, waiting.
If I can't act everywhere… he thought, then I need to choose where I stand.
Captain DD's words echoed in his memory.
Earn ground first.
Vale looked out at the dark sea.
Somewhere ahead were places where ownership was enforced brutally. Places where people were reduced to property. Places where neutrality wasn't an option.
When he reached those places…
Vale clenched his fist.
He wouldn't hesitate.
Not again.