So this was it, right?
While my body lacked the strength to move a single part of itself, the boat began to pick up speed.
Through the hole above me, I watched the clouds rush past—but it wasn't the sky moving.
Corpses of every monster, Trudeia… and even my own limp body drifted with the boat.
Was this caused by the whirlpool the scylla created with that stone? It had to be.
A sudden violent shift sent my powerless body flying into a wall, where I crashed and slowly slumped to the floor.
I had always imagined my final moments would be peaceful—surrounded by friends and loved ones. Never did I think my casket would be a metal ship, or that the ocean would become my grave.
Of course, I knew the risks of this job. I'd prepared myself to die any day.
Or… at least that's what I thought.
I believed that, if I ever stared death in the face—if I ever had to face my very last moments—I'd be calm. Accepting.
But now… my hands trembled, my teeth clattered together, and my heart pounded wildly in my chest.
I was terrified of dying.
"Trudeia…" I weakly called out to the strongest person I knew, praying he'd rise from the dead and save me.
Each time the metal bent, groaned, or shattered under the pressure of the whirlpool, my breath hitched, sweat dripped, and my fear swelled tighter around my lungs.
Then came a horrible sound—one that echoed through the entire ship and made my entire body tremble.
In the next second, the entire ship split in half.
Water surged violently into the half I remained in, washing away any corpses left. The water then crashed into me with the force of falling meteorites.
The impact knocked me unconscious for a moment.
...
When my eyes opened again. Or, where they ever closed to begin with? I saw nothing.
No floor beneath me. No animals. No sound. Even pieces of the ship and sinking corpses should've been around me.
But there was only darkness.
I floated—either trapped in some limbo after death, or still alive drifting in the dark depths of the ocean.
One of those options terrified me more than the other one.
No. This was the ocean. I could feel water pressing against every inch of my skin. I could move—barely—a twitch of a finger, a slow blink.
I shouldn't be alive. The pressure alone should've crushed me. My lungs should've filled with water.
But I could still feel… I was still alive.
The crown.
Even in the face of death, I had clung to the mission. Somehow, my hands still held the crown, refusing to let go.
What would happen to me now? I floated, almost lifeless, deep beneath the sea.
"…"
What was that?
A faint current brushed past me.
"…"
Then a vibration—like the water itself trembled from a distant monstrous roar.
"…"
Clicking sounds reverberated through my body. Constant, sharp noises that made it impossible to think—reminding me I was defenseless prey for anything lurking in these depths.
"So it really is you," a surprised yet soothing young woman's voice echoed inside my mind.
"I'll forgive you for what you did to him, my child. And I thank you for finding him and alerting me."
Her voice washed over my thoughts, calming me, dulling the clicking all around.
"I've finally found yo—"
She stopped. As though she had just realized something.
"You don't remember me? So… it still isn't time for us to meet again?"
"…"
"—ir… Unfair… so unfair. I hate it! Why!? I waited so long—always alone, always suffering! Why!?"
Her tone spiraled—from worried, to enraged.
"But… I've waited this long. I can wait a bit more," she said, shifting from anger to weary acceptance.
"It wouldn't hurt if… you came back to me now, would it? Who cares if your plan goes wrong? I would rather have you with me than be alone…" she bargained softly.
Then, calmer: "No. You wouldn't like that. You made this choice for both of us… and for all our children."
For a reason I couldn't explain, I felt every emotion she expressed. When she grew angry, I felt anger. When she softened, I calmed. When she longed, I felt a strange ache for something I didn't understand.
"Huh? What is that in your hand?"
Suddenly, warmth brushed my fingers. A familiar touch—yet my skin felt nothing. Was the darkness driving me insane? Was this a hallucination on the edge of death?
"…The crown. So it's already begun. Finally."
Her presence began to drift away, and my eyelids grew heavy.
Eyelids? Had my eyes been open this whole time? I couldn't tell in this endless darkness.
"…ke su… ma… live…" her voice distorted as a storm of clicking noises overwhelmed my mind.
Not just clicks—howls warped by water, bubbles bursting, monstrous roars. All of it drowned out the woman's gentle voice.
Then everything faded.
And I lost consciousness again.
---
Amagra'ra Kingdom – Central City
"Damn it! Fuck!" the king roared, slamming the arm of his throne. "Why are you two imbeciles reporting this to me NOW!? The search for that crown is the top priority!"
"But, my king," the scaled informant said, bowing low, "the last report stated that the ship entered a scylla's nest. No nation today has the resources for an expedition into such danger."
"Do I LOOK like someone who cares!?" the snake king hissed, venom literally dripping from his fangs. It splashed onto the red silk carpet and burned straight through it.
"I trusted my counselor and my tactician when they said transporting the crown on an ordinary delivery ship and using a luxury decoy would work! Now where are those fools!?"
"My king, the tactician is already in a meeting regarding retrieval plans. The counselor is contacting the Lichtrey kingdom and our allies."
"They'd better be," the king growled. "Lichtrey is too important. We cannot afford to break a hundred-year alliance—not now. We found the Holy Crown of the Copper King, and Lichtrey trusted us to keep it safe until the destined moment."
"Yes, king!"
"Don't 'yes, king' me unless you MEAN it!" he snapped. "Where is that idiot counselor making his calls!? Leaving me uninformed at a time like this—unbelievable!"
With that, the Nagmia king stormed out of the throne room, fury twisting his features.
---
City of Trotero – Kingdom of Gtomika, Northern Continent
A young Vogel girl with short, reddish hair—speckled with feathers the color of fire—walked along the empty beach.
At this time of year, with the usual cold winds rolling through her country, this was normally the perfect day to sneak out, scour the shore for anything washed up from wrecked ships, and sell whatever she could find.
That was how her routine always went.
But today, she found something she didn't expect:
A boy around her age, lying unconscious on the wet sand, waves breaking against his feet.
"…What's he holding in his hand?"