The wind had picked up by the time Riku set sail again. The village behind him was swallowed by fog, lanterns flickering like distant stars fading into the mist. Every instinct screamed that he should turn back—but the knowledge he had gained made him certain of one thing: hiding would not save anyone. The Umibōzu had already taken notice, and retreat would only delay the inevitable.
The sea was restless, its surface fractured by unseen currents. Riku gripped the wheel, knuckles white, as the waves grew taller and the air thickened. He whispered a silent prayer, one his grandmother had taught him: a plea to the sea, not as an enemy, but as an ally.
Hours passed in tense silence, broken only by the occasional crash of waves against his boat. Then, the water ahead blackened, rising unnaturally, like ink spilling across the surface. A shadow materialized, massive and bald-headed, eyes reflecting the fading moonlight in a way that seemed to pull at Riku's very soul.
The Umibōzu.
It emerged fully this time, towering above the boat, arms stretching wide, sending the water into a frenzied whirlpool. Riku's heart hammered in his chest as the boat rocked violently. The radio emitted a high-pitched screech, static blending with a low, guttural vibration from the creature itself, like the ocean was growling.
Riku remembered the scroll's warning: "Only those who respect the balance… may survive." Respect. Not fear. Not aggression. Respect.
He spoke aloud, his voice trembling but clear: "I do not seek to harm you! I only seek understanding!"
For a heartbeat, the ocean fell still. The creature paused, its massive eyes studying him, unblinking. Then, a voice—not in words, but in thought—brushed against Riku's mind: "Why do you trespass?"
Riku swallowed hard, forced the words out: "I seek knowledge… to prevent more from being taken."
The waters calmed slightly, though the shadow of the Umibōzu remained. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, it sank beneath the waves, leaving only ripples behind. But the sense of being watched did not leave.
Riku knew this was only the beginning. The Black Tide was patient. It would return. And next time, it might not ask questions—it might simply take.
He stared at the endless horizon, understanding for the first time the magnitude of what he faced. Surviving the Umibōzu would require courage, wit, and a deep connection to the sea itself. And somehow, Riku knew that the ocean, vast and merciless, was no longer just water—it was a world alive, ancient, and full of secrets that could drown him in more ways than one.
The first test had passed. But the true trial was yet to come.