"Damn it! These refugees are cowards, no matter where they come from. They'd rather live a life of hunger and uncertainty on this island than help us set sail. Could they be any more spineless?" the black-haired young man shouted angrily.
Miguel kicked at a half-buried shell, sending it skittering across the beach. The sun had already dipped below the horizon, staining the sea with a bruised purple hue. The wind carried the distant cries of gulls—or perhaps something less familiar.
"Miguel, complaining won't solve anything. After all, they're just ordinary people," said the brown-haired young man lazily lying on a rock. Fais bit into his apple without even looking up. "Before getting stranded here, none of them were professional sailors. Their fear of the legendary sea monster Leviathan is completely understandable. As the saying goes, 'Small boats should stay close to shore,' right?"
A flash crossed Miguel's eyes. "But are they really willing to stay trapped on this desolate island, barely scraping by on shellfish and crabs every day?"
He gestured toward the ragged row of tents beyond the treeline. A few makeshift campfires sent smoke curling into the sky, and even from a distance, the people's slumped shoulders were clearly visible.
"Miguel, so-called 'ordinary people' are pessimistic realists," Fais replied, brushing apple peel off his sleeve. "They always focus on the punishment of failure rather than the reward of success. Besides, this ocean is full of unknowns—even a shred of truth can become the root of rumor. As the name Leviathan implies, in their subconscious minds, setting out to sea is like defying nature—a kind of suicide. So in their eyes, you and I are nothing more than 'reckless adventurers unaware of their limits.'"
Miguel groaned and paced. His fingers twitched at his sides, aching for action—anything but this infuriating deadlock.
"Ugh, Fais, you're always so sympathetic to these people. Why am I the only one searching here? Get over here and help!"
"Hmph," Fais muttered, finally standing up and dusting off his coat. "If you hadn't opened that weird book, we wouldn't be stuck in this 'strange time-space' in the first place."
"Oh come on, it's not all my fault! You're the one who called me over in such a rush, and—"
"Pardon me, young friends... You must be the newcomers who arrived on the island today?" A voice rasped behind them, weary and gravelly.
The speaker was an elderly man with a sallow complexion, leaning on a driftwood cane. His appearance was sudden, but somehow not surprising—like a piece of the landscape that had just decided to speak.
"Yes, we've been here exactly four hours, thirty-eight minutes, and twenty-four seconds—no, twenty-five—so yes, we're new," Miguel said, bowing slightly and speaking with ease. "But unlike the others, we're not 'trapped.' We're here on a mission of exploration. Of course, we'll remain in this world until our objective is complete and will struggle alongside you. I am Miguel Wegenstadt, and this is my close friend, Fais Allenbell. Is there anything you'd like to ask?"
"Hahaha! Hahahahaha!" The old man burst into laughter, the sound like wind through cracked wood.
Miguel frowned. "What's so funny?"
"Ah, forgive me! At my age, even the smallest thing can make me laugh. Don't take it personally, young adventurers," the old man said awkwardly, scratching his head. "Now, to the point—I heard you've been trying to rally people to defeat Leviathan and open a path to the sea."
"That's right. But no one's willing to take the risk!" Miguel replied, his tone sharper than before.
"Haha... of course. They're not warriors, after all. Not like the heroes who've glimpsed the horrors of hell."
Fais furrowed his brow. "How do you...?"
"Hahaha. When you're as old as I am, a single glance is enough to see what's in someone's heart! Ah, I haven't properly introduced myself. My name is Fernando. In short... brave ones, would you be willing to help a one-handed old soldier on a grand hunt?"
"...Huh?" Miguel blinked.
"You mean...?" Fais glanced at Miguel, both of them caught off guard.
"I mean," Fernando said with a smile weathered by years of surprises, "I can offer you a boat—and even act as your navigator—if you don't mind that it's only a reed boat, hahahaha!"
"Ah, the moon whispers softly to the sea,Telling it your deepest secrets.The waves rise and fall,Speaking of shipwrecks,Of sailors' dreams and mermaids' songs.Ah, the moon listens, its silver light caressing the surface.It hears tales of love and longing,Of storms and serenity intertwined,And of how the tides bring human hearts closer."
Miguel blinked again. "...What's with the sudden poetic outburst?"
"Hahaha… Look at this reed boat! It's been sitting here for three years, collecting dust, but still solid as ever!"
Miguel ran his hand along the boat's fragile edge.
"...Has Leviathan really blockaded this island for that long?"
"Hmm. Maybe even longer. My first year here, you could still catch decent fish in these waters."
"...Did you see any nearby islands back then?" Fais asked, his eyes sharpening.
"Not really… From here, you can't see any land at all. Without proper preparation, even the greatest seafarers wouldn't dare head out."
"...By 'proper preparation,' you mean fresh water and food supplies?"
"Of course those matter—but what matters even more is a sturdy ship. A proper keel! Lateen sails, square sails! That's the real deal. With this thing? Not a chance. This isn't the calm and easy-going Angras Sea."
Fernando stood tall, his voice unwavering."But if we take down Leviathan, there'll be enough people willing to follow us—to help build a real ship."
Miguel gave a soft chuckle. "You're serious?"
"Hahaha, of course!" Fernando grinned."Isn't humanity a species that survives on belief? Take those damned United Zealots, for example. They crossed oceans under their so-called divine prophecy and butchered the people of Vasilama.If I hadn't joined forces with that greenhorn kid—the one who later became High Commander of the Bermi Alliance—and gone from tribe to tribe uniting them, forming a resistance against the Zealot Order...Even the city protected by the forest spirits would've fallen into their hands."
A flicker of sorrow crossed Miguel and Fais's eyes.Then Fais spoke quickly, "You… you're one of the Forest People of Vasilama?"
Fernando grinned."Ah, young man, sharp eyes again. And I'm not just spinning tall tales.Ten years ago, the United Zealots came east under 'divine revelation.' They burned the Salt Road, sacked Riverbend.That boy and I—he later became the Bermi Alliance leader—went to every tribe, one by one.We wove the Fangtooth, Grainrain, Redsoil, and Whitebranch tribes into one rope.We swore oaths at Shinmu Ridge, laid ambushes at Windriver, won three battles in three days, and drove the Zealots to the sea cliffs.Otherwise, even Qianmo City, guarded by the forest spirits, would've been lost."
Miguel and Fais locked eyes, visibly shaken.Fais murmured, "No wonder the Oath of the Grove, and the archery and herbal teachings of the borderland schools… all trace back to that year.So it was you who lit the first flame."
Fernando laughed aloud."Well now, I didn't realize I'd become such a legendary figure.The… Chain… Breaker. Hahaha! I like that title.Then let me reintroduce myself properly:Fernando Hava, Left Speaker of the Forest Council… the Chainbreaker."
"Tch." Miguel raised an eyebrow."So you're the one who tore the tribes free from the shackles of slavery?I figured you were a seasoned war-hardened knight—never thought you'd be so quick to gloat."
"Hahaha, my boy, if we've just stumbled onto something worth smiling about, why not enjoy it?"Fernando gave his spear a fond pat, the grin fading into steel.
"The sun's past the peak. The wind has turned south. The tide is heading back into the bay.If we're going to hunt Leviathan…tonight—before the flood tide—is our chance."
The three stood.
On the deck, tar-brushed harpoons, hooked cables, and fire jars waited—ready.
Fernando lowered his voice, now a growl of resolve:
"Let's go.Let that shadow beneath the waves learn—that human conviction can grow fangs too."
Fais hesitantly spoke up."Ah, that reminds me... Mr. Hava, once we're out at sea, how exactly are we dividing the roles?"
There was still a hint of nervousness on his face.
"Hahaha, no need to be so formal," the man laughed heartily, waving a hand. "Just call me Fernando.As for the roles—actually, it's pretty simple. I'll be the captain. I'll take the helm and decide the timing of our attack."
He paused, sweeping his gaze between the two of them. His voice grew more serious:
"As for you two—Miguel, since you claim to be a master of all kinds of weapons, I'll count on you to throw the harpoons.And Fais, you're more detail-oriented, so you'll handle the harpoon ropes—feeding them out, pulling them in—making sure they don't get tangled."
"Ropes?" Miguel tilted his head in confusion. "What are those for?"
"To pull the boat close enough to the sea monster, of course!" Fernando replied with a grin."Otherwise, how else are we supposed to kill it? Besides, we'll need to drag the body back as proof for the islanders."
Fais's brow furrowed tightly, concern creeping in."What if Leviathan attacks first? This reed boat… it doesn't exactly look sturdy..."
"No need to worry," Fernando cut him off, his eyes glinting with confidence."As long as the captain—that's me—uses the currents right, we won't give it a chance to strike from directly below.Didn't you already give the islanders a little demonstration the other day?That giant sword—what was it called again? The one that shattered a boulder in one blow?"
Miguel scratched his head."Oh—uh, it's the Super Ultimate Five-Color Divine Radiant Flame-Dawn Blade of Demon-Slaying Annihilation."
"…That's… quite a mouthful."Fernando nodded. "Then you will be the one to deliver the final blow."
He laid it out crisply:"First harpoon hits the base of the fin.Second coils the neck.Third seals the jaws.Miguel throws the spears.Fais handles the three-tier rope system—Main line for holding, secondary line for stabilizing, and the release line is clipped to the hilt of the blade. If things go wrong—cut it loose."
Fais confirmed, "What if it dives and charges upward?"
"Let the main line run. Throw a float barrel—let it drag itself.If it comes up fast, we slide with the current, don't let it get under us."
Fernando stared at the sea."If the boat becomes unstable—live bodies before trophies. Cut the line."
Miguel grinned."Sounds like a dance."
"All sea dances are done with death underfoot."Fernando tapped each item in turn: oil jars, flint, spare harpoons.
"If it's wounded, smear the gash with oil. The moment a spark hits—it'll surface."
The sun had tilted west. The wind had turned south.The three took their positions.
Miguel stood at the stern, hefting a heavy harpoon.Fais coiled the ropes, float barrels neatly lined at his feet.Fernando gripped the rudder, eyes fixed on the tide lines.
"Set sail," he said in a low voice.
The reed boat surged forward, slicing through the waves.In the distance, the sea's surface bulged—like something massive brushing upward from below—tracing a slow-moving dark line.
Fernando raised his hand: steady… closer… wait.
Suddenly, the line snapped.A massive shadow rolled, skimming just beneath the surface.
"Fifty paces!" Fais exhaled, pulling the ropes into position.
"Hold on—what's that sound?" Fernando adjusted the helm sharply.
"A mechanical whirring?" Fais muttered.
"Look!" Miguel shouted. "There's something dark leaking from underwater!"
"That's blood… Something's fighting Leviathan—right beneath us!"
"It's coming up."
The sea exploded.A black mass erupted from below, dragging with it a twisted chunk of shattered metal.Broken gears spun wildly, glinting with seawater and oil.
"Don't throw!" Fernando barked."Let it open its gills first—Miguel, stand by. Fais, half-release the main line—float barrels ready!"
The mangled metal cracked apart.The beast's massive jaw turned, revealing a pale slit where its gills split open—a single snow-white flash.
"Now—!"