CHAPTER 65: THE STORM
The night air on deck was cut by the crackle of a small, contained brazier and the pungent aroma of salted meat and thick broth.
A dozen crewmen sat clustered around the flame, listening intently as an old, scarred sailor spun tales of the ancient past.
John sat a short distance away on a wooden crate, quietly chewing on his rations, while Princess Raven stood leaning against the mast nearby, sipping tea with an expression of cold indifference—though her ears were subtly tilted toward the storyteller. Lea sat on the floor right beside John, munching on a hard biscuit with her tail occasionally thumping against the deck.
"...And so, before the realms had names, the Ten Primordials shaped the fabric of all existence," the old sailor rasped, gesturing grandly with a half-empty mug of ale.
"They poured their own divine essence into the foundation of creation, anchoring the world itself to the sacred Origin. But harmony never lasts, lads."
The crew leaned in closer as the firelight flickered across their weather-worn faces.
"The First Son—the eldest of the Prime Gods—grew arrogant," the old man continued, his voice dropping to an eerie whisper.
"He looked upon the power of the Primordials and coveted the true Source of Existence for himself. He raised a rebellion that tore the heavens apart, waging a war so vast it shattered the universe. In the end, to preserve existence from total annihilation, the Primordials were forced to make the ultimate sacrifice. They bound the ancient blasphemer, sealing him away, but at the cost of their own lives... leaving behind only the laws of existence to govern us all."
John took a quiet bite of his salted meat, his mind working through the tale.
The Primordials... the First Son... The story echoed strangely with the terms he heard before, particularly with the shards, though he kept his thoughts strictly to himself.
His attention suddenly shifted from the storyteller as a shadow moved near the quarterdeck.
Captain Flint was stepping down the steps, moving quietly. Instead of heading toward his quarters, Flint slipped down the hatch leading into the lower hold—the same area he had been personally guarding before.
John's eyes narrowed.
Excusing himself quietly, John stood and slipped into the deck's shadows. He descended the creaking stairs into the belly of the ship, keeping his footsteps completely soundless.
Slinking down the narrow corridor, he reached the sealed hatch near the hold. The latch was unlocked, resting slightly ajar. John pressed his back against the damp wooden wall, angling his head just enough to peer through the narrow gap.
Inside the dimly lit hold, surrounded by stacked crates and thick chains, was a massive steel cage draped in damp canvas.
Through a slight tear in the canvas, John caught a fleeting glimpse—a flash of iridescent, shimmering blue scales and a pair of delicate, luminous hands bound by suppression runes.
A captive? No... a sea creature?
Before John could lean in any further, a cold hand clamped down on his shoulder. The sheer pressure of Stage 4 Sage Ether washed over him, completely locking his muscles in place.
"Curiosity killed the cat, lad," Captain Flint's low baritone rumbled right beside his ear.
Flint stood behind him, his dark eyes gleaming. He didn't draw his sword, but the suffocating aura he released made it crystal clear that one wrong move would mean instant death.
"I told you yesterday it's just cargo down here," Flint said softly, his voice dripping with unspoken threats.
"A smart passenger stays in his lane and enjoys the ride. A stupid one ends up as fish bait."
John felt the heavy pressure grinding against his ribs, but his face remained completely deadpan. He slowly turned his head, looking Flint dead in the eye, and simply shrugged.
"Just lost my way," John said casually. "I'll head back up."
Flint studied John's indifferent expression for a long second before slowly releasing his grip, a humorless smirk touching his lips. "See that you do."
John turned around and walked back up the stairs without pressing his luck any further.
By midnight, any thought of the lower hold was swept away.
The sea roared. Black, thunderous storm clouds rolled in with terrifying speed, swallowing the moon and plunging the ocean into absolute darkness.
Massive, mountain-like waves crashed against The Walrus, sending violent jolts through the timber as gale-force winds howled through the rigging.
"All hands on deck!" Quartermaster Bob bellowed over the deafening roar of thunder.
"We're entering the outer ring of the Great Whirlpool! Secure the rigging! Bosh the pumps!"
The ship rocked violently, pitching at a sickening forty-five-degree angle as lightning split the sky.
Suddenly, a terrifying screech echoed from the abyssal depths below.
The ocean surrounding The Walrus erupted. A massive, tendriled aquatic beast—a Rank-4 Abyssal Kraken—surfaced from the raging waters, its monstrous tentacles wrapping around the ship's hull with enough force to make the heavy oak groan and splinter!
"A Rank-4 beast!" a sailor screamed in absolute terror. "We're dead!"
"Shut your mouths and hold the line!" Captain Flint's voice boomed across the deck, saturated with immense Sage Ether.
Flint drew his sword, his body surging with blinding blue energy as he leaped directly toward the massive, thrashing tentacle crushing the main mast. With a single, devastating swing of his blade, a massive crescent of pressurized Ether cleaved through the monster's hide, spraying black, corrosive blood across the deck as the creature roared in agony.
While Flint engaged the Rank-4 titan in battle, lower-grade sea beasts—hideous, deep-sea crawlers with razor-sharp claws and gaping maws—began spilling over the wooden railings by the dozen!
The deck descended into utter chaos.
"Those with water affinities use it to scoop out the water. Those who don't, grab buckets! Scoop the water out, or we're sinking!" a crewman yelled, shoving a wooden bucket into John's hands near the flooded lower hatch.
John didn't argue. Despite his weak physique, he began scooping seawater out of the flooded passageway alongside two other crew members, while Raven was further up deck, her crimson eyes glowing as her shadow constructs tore apart any beasts that dared approach her, as did her cat.
Suddenly, the wooden wall right beside them shattered inward with an explosive crunch!
A colossal, snake-like sea monster with rows of needle-like teeth burst straight through the ship's outer hull. Before the sailor beside John could even scream, the beast snapped its massive jaws shut, swallowing the man whole in a single, sickening gulp!
Blood sprayed across the damp wooden walls.
"Fuck this!" the remaining sailor shrieked, dropping his bucket and sprinting away in absolute panic.
With the hull breached and water violently pouring in, john also bolted down the lower corridor, seeking shelter from the thrashing monster, as that was one of the rooms that was reinforced. Desperate for a secure room, he threw his weight against the reinforced door of the restricted hold and slammed it shut behind him, throwing the heavy bolt into place.
Leaning against the door, panting heavily as the muffled sounds of roaring monsters and thunder rumbled outside, John wiped the seawater from his eyes.
He turned around—and froze.
The cage in the center of the hold had been completely thrown open by the impact of the ship crashing against the waves.
Lying on the wet, wooden floorboards, shivering violently amidst broken chains, was a young girl. She had long, flowing hair the color of deep ocean water, and delicate, shimmering scales running along her waist and tail.
John's eyes widened in realization. A mermaid? No...
He recognized that distinct, ethereal aura instantly. She wasn't just a sea creature. She was a Numen—just like Nyara.
And right now, her body was glowing with a brilliant, pulsing azure light.