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The Santa Maria expedition team was a gathering of rowdy good-for-nothings notorious throughout the Alliance. After barely managing to become Rank A, their power had increased by several times.
Their captain, Christopher Conrad, needed no introduction, but among everyone from the vice-captain to the lowest-ranking lackey, it was hard to find a single member who was fully sane.
After fulfilling their job quotas for Bermuda, all they did was indulge themselves at Atlantis Island’s expansive entertainment district. That was what their daily lives consisted of.
As usual, Conrad was drowning in revelry.
“Ah! That’s the stuff! It’s worth the 50 gold!” he exclaimed, pouring expensive liquor down his throat while taking turns groping the beautiful women sitting beside him.
A female dancer dressed in exotic attire was dancing tirelessly on the tabletop. As her skirt fluttered, the members sitting around her enjoyed themselves, watching her with hungry eyes and licking their lips.
It was a complete bacchanal.
“Hey! I’m gonna go for a round, so you guys stay put and enjoy yourselves!” he announced.
“Yes, boss!” his lackeys replied.
“You shitheads! It’s ‘captain,’ not ‘boss’! People will think we’re still just some fucking employed scoundrels! We’re a Rank A expedition team!”
He smashed the bottle in his hand against the closest member’s head. It shattered, flinging shards of glass everywhere.
“Hehe, sorry! Cap-tain!”
“It’s not that hard, so don’t make me tell you twice, bastard.”
Despite being hit on the...
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