Round Ten: Stormy Seas and Tumbling Sails

The cat-and-mouse chase continued. The two ships followed one after the other, but almost simultaneously entered the Stormy Ocean—because the storm had caught up with them at the same time.
The saying “thunder does not last all day, nor rain all morning” does not apply here. Even as Rol carefully avoided the areas where clouds of rain piled up at an incredible speed and tried to sail along the edges, the raindrops that fell with the roaring thunder were enough to constitute a disaster. Moreover, the rain carried the same salty taste as seawater, and occasionally something hard hit the head, leaving a bump—upon picking it up, it might turn out to be a small shell, making one feel as though someone had drawn an immeasurable amount of water from the sea and poured it from the sky. In this great cycle of nature, tiny and insignificant humans were at best pitiful creatures trying to protect themselves.
The heavier the rain became as they went further. Even speaking a few words on the deck would result in being drenched in saltwater, forcing the sailors to shout hysterically while covering their mouths. It felt less like sailing on the sea and more like being inside it.
The blinding rain effectively prevented people from trying to glimpse this vast and mysterious ocean. The boundless sea was meant to be worshipped and feared; any unrealistic or foolish thoughts would be buried deep along with their owners, without even leaving a trace of foam. Its endless expanse and unfathomable mysteries had conquered all those who tried to conquer it—warriors and explorers who entered its domain for various purposes and motives, like thieves breaking in, harboring ulterior motives in its embrace. Yet it cared not, only occasionally showing a hint of temper by shouting at them or sneezing—not really targeting anyone, but few could withstand such earth-shattering “coquetry.” After all, it was the fault of those who died.
And the scene before them was merely her most ordinary daily routine, not even a warning. If they were smart and cautious, those who tried to pry into her secrets should have backed off—sitting in a small tavern by the sea, playing music and singing while watching the gloomy sky was enough, as sentimental and idle bards usually thought.

Of course, attributing human traits and thoughts to the ocean is nothing but a foolish delusion. Those who truly sail among its waters lack the leisure or delicate sensibility to care about the blue waters like a maiden’s gaze or the gentle waves like a lover’s touch. Just as those who don’t live in dark realms only care about gloomy caves, dragons sleeping over piles of treasure, and maidens waiting in cannibals’ pots to be rescued by knights, how could they possibly understand that earthquakes are the simplest and most obvious sources of destruction in such realms? The sea is just the sea—silent and powerful. It isn’t pleased by barbarians throwing cows into it as an act of worship, nor angered by sailors standing in rows on the deck, drunk, urinating into the sea. Even the blatant challenge of a mighty wizard waving his staff to repel a tsunami matters not—courage only applies to insignificant beings, and offense exists only because the offended truly take it seriously. Is a man who dares to challenge the sea and conquer it truly a man? This kind of ignorant glorification, akin to justifying murder by soldiers or the tyranny of the powerful, when people seek codes of conduct to justify their selfish desires—may the gods forgive you! Do you know how many demons in the abyss are laughing at this?

If you want it easy, simple—you won’t go to hell for catching fish during breeding season just because you have seventeen children to feed, even though the number of lives you take in one go might exceed those lost in a war. The gods bless those who strive to survive. For sailors, the sea is their means of livelihood; going to sea is their way to make a living. Survival is the ultimate truth, far surpassing false and weak romance. Though when bards in taverns tell sailors absurd comparisons between the sea and women, they usually laugh rudely, picking up on the implicit flirtation, even raising their cups passionately, shouting that they’ll conquer the sea just as they conquer women, their expressions shining as if embodying the truth of survival. But once back at sea, faced with raging waves under stormy skies, their expressions quickly darken.

Fortunately, Forty-Seven doesn’t make a living at sea.

So he remains at ease, his two red eyes like ghostly flames shining brightly in the torrential rain—perhaps even brighter than a lighthouse if they were any larger.

“Respected sir… Ahch!” Twenty-Six stood there shivering, wrapped in a tattered canvas, the rain blinding him. Every part of his body was soaked, even his spit tasted salty.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry!” Twenty-Six stepped back in panic, nearly falling on the deck. He bowed his head deeply, hunching over—How could I sneeze in front of a noble sir? Did I get him?

“Didn’t I tell you to go to the kitchen to get bait?” Forty-Seven didn’t seem bothered. In fact, with such heavy rain, he couldn’t even tell which droplets of spit were which. “Or is there something else?”

“Well…” Twenty-Six nervously twisted his fingers. “Sir, it’s nothing really… It’s just that the sailors all want to know where we’re going… Everyone’s a bit worried now…”
He wiped the rain from his face and glanced into the distance, where sea and sky could no longer be distinguished—just a chaotic mass of leaden gray, like a giant beast with its mouth wide open, waiting for the Dove to fall into its trap. “Please don’t misunderstand. I’m just passing on a message… The sailors are talking among themselves, unsure of what’s going on. We’ve been sailing for days now, and aside from moving further away, we have no idea where we are. It seems like this route hasn’t been taken before. When we asked First Officer Rol, he wouldn’t say anything, just told us to follow orders… Can we really catch Captain Simon? The sea is so vast… They’re asking you—should we… should we head back first?”
Head back? Forty-Seven scanned the ship. He could see that the sailors, who seemed to be struggling to steer the ship against the heavy rain, were actually sneaking glances his way, quickly turning away when he looked, thinking he hadn’t noticed.
Forty-Seven looked at Twenty-Six. He figured a little intimidation would make him reveal who had instigated him to come to him, or maybe he wouldn’t even need to intimidate him. After that, all that was left to do was hang that ringleader on the tallest mast, and the rest would behave properly… He had done this before—when trouble arose in various colonies, destroying just one of them would calm the rest. But then he thought better of it and decided not to do it for now.
“Alright, for the sake of the bait, I’ll go ask.”
Morriel was sitting in the captain’s cabin at the back of the Dove, staring blankly at the storm outside. Back on the Future Stone, she often watched the rain through the window like this—everything blurred, filled with a mysterious beauty, like a world of profound magic.
Most of the furnishings and equipment were fixed in place, with only the flame of the whale-oil lamp flickering slightly with the ship’s movements. The unstable light illuminated the half of her face without tattoos, casting a hazy shadow over her usually tired yet delicate features, giving them a touch of softness rarely seen before.
Hearing a noise, Morriel turned around and saw Forty-Seven, drenched in water, walking in.
“You’re not afraid of rusting now, are you?” Morriel tried to tease him, but coughed from the smoke from the whale-oil lamp.
Forty-Seven stepped forward and extinguished the lamp. The cabin immediately became dim, with only the sound of raindrops pounding against the portholes remaining.
For some reason, Morriel felt a slight panic. If this happened during a spellcasting session, it could ruin everything she’d done so far. “Idiot! What are you doing? I still need to read!”
“You’re not reading. Why not use magic to light things up?” Forty-Seven rubbed the grease from his fingers and wiped it on the table underside. The water from his armor seeped onto the floor, mixing with the rainwater that had seeped in from beneath the windows.

“In such a dangerous situation, as a mage, one shouldn’t waste energy for comfort. One must prepare properly and remember spells that are more likely to be useful,” Moriel said rather stiffly. “What is it?”
Si Qishi sat at the table, looking down at Moriel. “Have you found that ship ahead? Can you determine its exact location?”
“Not yet, but in terms of direction… Why do you ask?” Moriel turned her gaze back to the rain outside.
“I was thinking,” Si Qishi said, fiddling with a goose feather pen, “if you can figure out their location, I can take you and catch up to them quickly. Why stay behind in this rickety ship?”
“Take me with you? In this weather?” Moriel retorted.
“I can fly above the clouds to avoid the storm. It might be a bit cold up there…” Si Qishi thought for a moment. “But that shouldn’t be a problem for you, right?”
“It is a problem.” Moriel immediately rejected Si Qishi’s suggestion. “It’s too high. And if we’re above the clouds, how will you be able to see Simon’s ship?”
“We might not be able to see it now anyway. Besides, why do I need to? Don’t you have me? Anyway, I don’t want to stay on this ship anymore. Let’s fly over, find them, and settle this matter. With me around…”
“I have to consider what will happen when you’re not here! I’ve always been alone; that’s how I think!” Moriel abruptly cut Si Qishi off.
The goose feather pen snapped.
Moriel froze for a moment, turned her chair, and rested her hands on the table, touching her forehead.
“I… I can’t. I can’t concentrate on casting spells in that kind of situation. I need an environment as undisturbed as possible. The cabin is a better choice than a dragon’s back.”
Si Qishi placed the pen on the table and stood up indifferently.
“Alright then.”
“Did you come in just to ask me this?” Moriel still holding her head asked suddenly.
“Not entirely. But it doesn’t matter. The rest are trivial matters.”
Si Qishi stepped out of the cabin and turned a corner to run into Chloe.
“Hi, Si Qishi,” Chloe said cheerfully, holding up a bottle of wine to greet him. “It’s raining so hard—it makes one feel gloomy. We should drink something to warm up… Is Moriel free now?”
With a crack, Si Qishi shattered the bottle.
“Hey!” Even if Chloe was quick, she couldn’t avoid it. A large part of her chest got soaked with the spilled wine. “What a waste! We’re on a ship! Every missing bottle is one less!”
Si Qishi pushed past her and answered her question casually, “She was free before you eavesdropped.”
Er Shi Liu still waited at the cabin door with a worried expression. “Honorable guest…”
His burning red eyes made her shut up. “Who told you to come find me? Tell me. To prevent them from making such stupid suggestions again, I’ll hang him on the mast as a warning… or hang you on the mast instead.”

“I… I…” Under the relentless pressure from Forty-Seven, Twenty-Six retreated in panic, slipped, and fell onto the deck. His canvas coverings scattered. He tried to say something, but the torrential rain filled his mouth, forcing him to cough violently.
Ror’s shouts delayed Forty-Seven’s plan for punishment.
The sea elf remained energetic in such weather, his blue eyes staying fixed just like Forty-Seven’s. He firmly gripped the wheel and shouted sharply, “A storm! Everyone, be on high alert!”
From the left side of the Dodo, an indescribable storm cloud was rapidly forming in the distance. It roared as if the clouds and sea surface were stuck together, with turbulent clouds separating and merging. Even from this distance, the Dodo was pulled slightly off course, and the rain became chaotic, flying sideways along the shifting waves.
Ror’s expression changed. He handed the wheel to a sailor nearby and leaped to the side of the ship, but he didn’t dare jump in. Instead, he leaned over the railing to observe the currents closely. His expression grew darker by the second—
“A giant whirlpool!”
At another location, Simon almost simultaneously shouted this phrase with Ror.
In the blink of an eye, the storm seemed to expand greatly. Waves slammed against the oddly flat hull of the Hermit Crab, lifting it, dropping it, lifting it again… higher and higher.
“Check the compass!” a Hierarchy believer, who was nominally the ship’s first mate, shouted while gripping the railing tightly. “Detect the currents! Where are our magical instruments? Find them quickly!”
Damn it! What use is a compass or checking currents now? I can tell I’m spinning even with my eyes closed!
“There’s no need! Stop looking for instruments!” Simon couldn’t hold back when he saw those incompetent sailors actually following orders. It was hard for them too—running around the ship like this without anyone falling into the sea… How is that possible?
“Then what do you suggest?” the first mate yelled at him. “Think of something!”
What the hell can I do? If I had a way to get out, I’d abandon you all and let this storm tear you apart to feed the sharks! But Simon couldn’t escape, so he could only stay silent, firmly controlling the wheel to maintain balance, trying to prevent the waves filled with whirlpools from pulling the Hermit Crab in. Once trapped by these whirlpools and growing large enough to swallow the ship, seawater would rush in from all sides. By then, not just the Hierarchy believers, but even the sea god priests would be powerless to save themselves.
It hurt. His bare fingertips burned from gripping the wheel too hard… Simon had bitten his nails so thin these days.

Since childhood, Simon had had this habit of biting his nails whenever he felt nervous or panicked, which was why he was one of the few sailors whose fingernails didn’t have dirt in them. Over twenty years ago, when he first became the helmsman, he too gripped the wheel with bare fingers, staring at the unfathomable ocean ahead, fearing that sharks or other monsters might emerge and drag him under—something he still had to worry about now, risking both himself and the ship being completely destroyed.

A terrifying wave hit from behind, almost submerging theJiju Crab No. 1. Fortunately, another wave soon lifted the ship back up, as if it were a desolate leaf.

“How’s the situation?” Orlando appeared beside Simon at some point; the captain didn’t even have time to notice.

“How’s the situation? Can’t you see for yourself?! Leaden clouds swirled above, seemingly within reach, and the entire sea surface where theJiju Crab No. 1 was located was clearly tilted. The rain and waves could no longer be distinguished, as if they had merged into one, forming bright, chaotic edges around the vortex.

“If this continues, we’ll be swallowed by the giant vortex! If it weren’t for theJiju Crab No. 1’s special structure, we’d probably be done for!” Simon was now hanging on the wheel, struggling to hold on. He wondered why Orlando still had that sickly expression, as if believing in gods could drive one mad.

“Good,” Orlando said, almost killing Simon with his words. “Proceed according to the plan!”

“The plan? What plan?” Simon couldn’t care less about courtesy anymore.

“It will crush our humble obstacles,” the killer said casually. “All glory to Xirek.”

Rohl could no longer control the ship; it was now 47 who was at the helm. Between wave after wave, 47 stood with his feet slightly apart, immovable as a mountain. He controlled the wheel with just one hand, while the other hung loosely. He steered the already-stableDove No. (Dove No.) as easily as flying a kite. Morriel was angry at 47’s behavior but couldn’t say anything, so she could only guide him using her predictions and Rohl’s experience, as 47 knew nothing about sailing. TheDove No. (Dove No.) tossed in the waves, emitting a grating sound from its hull, but miraculously remained intact.

Chloe had cut away everything in the way—sails, ropes—letting them be swept into the sea. While others clung to whatever was nearest, she moved lightly like a swallow gliding over a lake, using one spot for leverage and another to swing herself along, moving from the stern to the bow as if walking on flat ground.

A vast expanse of sea had collapsed. An unimaginable storm spun the sky counterclockwise and twisted the sea clockwise, grinding everything between them, dragging along theDove No. (Dove No.) and theJiju Crab No. 1 like dust, drawing them ever closer to the center of darkness.