Most people were just ordinary pirates.
Facing the sudden thick dark clouds and the thundering voice, they all displayed a hint of unease.
All the pirates responsible for defense simultaneously looked towards a middle-aged man on the city walls, a man in a blue robe with pale purple skin.
An elegant Dark Elf.
Also, the master of Skeleton Island, 'Black Thorn-Hoyle'.
As the words within the dark clouds concluded, 'Hoyle's' elegant stance suddenly stiffened.
Surprise and fear also surfaced on his plain face.
The butler beside him, also a Dark Elf, noticed something was amiss and brought over a chair, placing it behind him.
"Island Master, is there a problem?"
Hoyle directly sat on the chair, his hand gripping his chest tightly.
His lips turned even more purplish, and large beads of sweat continuously dripped down.
"It's nothing, continue to organize the defense..." Island Master Hoyle said through gritted teeth.
