Graves had thought about his death many times, but he never thought that he would be tied up like enough to take his last breath at the bottom of the sea.

If there is no Trist.

Before the guy could fall unconscious, the dagger in his hand stabbed his own chains by accident.

The moment the restraints on his body were released, Graves grabbed Triist's collar and led him desperately upstream.

But then, with a muffled thud, through the not-so-clear water, Graves saw a sudden burst of red light on the water, followed by a blast and a large piece of iron falling from the water overhead.

And with that, there are people.

Dead and unconscious, Graves could see the ears and eyes of those men who kept spilling red liquid, as well as the tattoos on their faces.

There was no doubt that these were killed by the explosion, and Graves was sure that the internal organs of these fellows had turned into lumps of meat or minced meat.

Fortunately, he ran underwater, otherwise he would have died.

Graves paddled wildly, and his lungs were bleeding.

Seconds were like years, and I don't know how long it took, he finally poked out of the water, coughing up the brackish water as hard as he could.

But he found it still difficult to breathe - the sea was filled with choking smoke that pierced people's eyes, and at the same time, the scorching air continued to pour into Graves' lungs, making him cough.

It's not that he's never seen a fire, but he's never seen it burn like this. It looks as if someone threw the whole world into a fire pit.

"Oh my God......" Graves sighed under his breath.

Planck's ship was completely finished, and only the wreckage that dotted the bay was still smoking.

The wooden houses on the docks crackled and collapsed one after another in the sea of fire. A burning sail floated down, nearly dragging them both back to the bottom. Everywhere you can see people with fire on their bodies, screaming and jumping into the water from the ruined docks. The smell of sulfur, dust, death, burnt hair, and burnt skin...... Doomsday.

Graves shook Trist in his hand, but the dog mongrel was much heavier than it looked on the surface, and with Graves breaking a few ribs, he struggled to keep Trist's head on the water.

At that moment, a charred plank floated in front of him, and he quickly fished it up, then flipped Trist onto the board and climbed up again. It's not very strong, but it's survived.

Graves had a chance to take a good look at the person in front of him who had wanted to be eaten alive, and he was no longer breathing.

"Huh...... It's revenge. ”

Graves smiled and slammed his fist into Trist's chest, a dozen times in a row, and just as he began to worry about whether he would smash the somewhat thin ribcage, Trist coughed up a large mouthful of seawater and slowly regained consciousness.

Graves breathed a sigh of relief, a slight smile on his face, and then became furious.

"What are you doing here?"

Trist didn't speak, his brain blanked from the excessive lack of oxygen, and it took more than a minute to figure out his situation.

"I tried your way. He muttered.

"I want to try the feeling of a tendon in my brain, cough cough ......"

He coughed.

"It sucks. ”

Schools of razorfish, as well as some unnamed vicious sea beasts, began to gather and grind their teeth around the planks.

Graves didn't want to hand it over.

A badly injured crew member struggled to surface, panicking to grab onto the ship's planks. Immediately afterwards, Graves stepped on it, and then a thick tentacle suddenly rose from the sea, rolled it around his neck, and dragged it down in one fell swoop.

Looks like Ms. Beard's kids are going to be busy for a while today.

The feast of the fish was boiling over, and Graves took advantage of the fact that they had not finished eating, and removed a piece of wood and rowed it as an oar.

It was probably an hour of rowing, until it was completely dark, and Graves' arms ached and heavy, but he did not dare to stop.

It wasn't until the two of them paddled to the shore that Graves sat down and didn't want to move again.

He was exhausted and his whole body was hot, like a bullet casing coming out of the chamber of a gun. The bay in the distance was stained crimson with the blood of Planck and the others, and there was not a single shadow of a survivor.

And that he was still alive, Graves felt that he was simply the luckiest person in the entire Runterras, and of course, it was also possible to borrow Triste's shit luck.

A corpse floated not far away, and what it was holding was somewhat familiar. Dressed like Planck's cronies, with Trist's hat in his hand.

"Hehe, shit luck guy, your line. ”

Graves scooped it up and tossed it to Trist, his expression indifferent, as if he knew that the hat would return to him sooner or later.

"Isn't it time for us to go find your gun?"

He said weakly.

"Did I hear me right, you still want to go back?" said Graves, gesturing to a messy beach.

Trist looked bitter.

"There wasn't enough time. The boss of Bilgewater is dead - it doesn't matter who did it, what matters is that the various gangs in the city are leaderless, and they will inevitably be merged. Maybe it's already started. ”

"Don't be funny, how can you live without a gun?"

"It's a little hard. However, I know that there is a gunsmith in Piltover, and he is quite skilled. ”

"Piltover ......" he fell into deep thought.

"Where money is everywhere. ”

Trist was silent.

After a while, he finally spoke, "Well, I haven't decided whether or not to cooperate with you or not—you're even more stupid than before." ”

"Well, Trist Fett isn't a good name either. What unenlightened fool would give it such a name?"

"Don't you think it's so much better than my real name. He laughed.

"That's right. ”

Graves laughed too, and the old days were as if they were in front of him. Suddenly, his tone changed, and he stared at Triste's eyes in front of him.

"Ugly words ahead, if you ask me to carry the bag for you again, even if it's just a thought, I'll blow your head off. Not negotiable. ”

Trist's smile vanished. He looked at me coldly for a moment, then a smile came back to his face.

"Deal. ”

"But before that...... I'd like to have another drink. ”

Graves said as he looked at the hustle and bustle of the inner city.

"This is where I grew up, and I still have some things to do, maybe ...... A day or two. ”

"You're not afraid of dying yourself?"

"All the people in Bilgewater are afraid of death, and they are not afraid of death. ”

As he spoke, Graves pointed to the inner city.

"Come on, I know there's a bar that's pretty good......"

Bar?

Trist stared blankly at the sky, then smiled self-deprecatingly.

"Hehe, I may be really nervous, how can I ......"