Message from the Sea Throne — NR
Quit lurking.
If you're reading, you're invested.
Feedback & Opinion > Silent Collections.
The Sea doesn't reward ghosts.
Speak.
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Scene 1 — Rooftop Correction
"No you don't."
My hand closes over Karaka's mask before he can pivot away.
"You're staying here with me — or Jinsung steps in to keep me from killing you this time."
His armor hums. Shadow pressure spikes.
Above us, Workshop ships adjust their angles. Not intervening. Just watching.
Karaka explodes forward.
"Crow, you insufferable bastard!"
His fist comes in heavy and direct.
I meet it with my palm.
The impact disperses.
I backhand him hard enough that the helmet rings like a struck bell.
He stumbles.
I step in and drive a kick into his gut. The air leaves him in a sharp burst.
He bends.
So I knee him.
Clean.
Controlled.
Not to kill.
To correct.
"I'm the bastard?" I say evenly. "My parents were honorable people. Bloodlines older than your organization."
His helmet tilts slightly.
Tongue clicks inside.
He's deciding whether to speak.
I don't let him.
My fingers slide under the edges of the mask.
The seals resist.
They give anyway.
I lift the helmet just enough.
And there it is.
Older.
Familiar.
"Hello, older—"
I grin.
"—wang."
His eyes widen.
Half a heartbeat.
That's enough.
I punch him.
No flourish.
No speech.
He goes limp mid-thought.
Before the ships can catch a clear angle, I wrap his face in Shinsoo. Dense. Opaque.
The Tower doesn't get that view.
I reseal the helmet.
Look down.
Far below, Khun holds formation around Baam — the 25th Night — and two princess candidates who just brushed death.
That part isn't mine.
"This idiot," I mutter, dragging Karaka upright, "is coming home."
That's when Zahard's unit arrives.
Scene 2 — Pressure and Pattern
A fist bearing Zahard's insignia slams toward my head.
I catch it.
Twist.
Bone cracks.
He screams.
A blade slices from my blind side.
I toss Karaka upward just enough to free my arm and kick the swordsman in the sternum.
Shinsoo pops behind the strike.
He flies backward.
Karaka drops.
I catch him without looking.
More of them surround.
Clean formation.
Not amateurs.
They're not here to win.
They're here to contain.
I exhale.
"Me and my damn mouth."
I bolt.
Shinsoo compresses beneath my feet.
Each step lands heavy — not speed alone — pressure.
Haki rides the steps like undertow.
Souls feel it.
They flinch.
They tighten the perimeter.
Wrong choice.
I don't break through.
I shatter alignment.
A shoulder check ruins one's centerline.
A palm compresses another's armor inward.
Emission — controlled — minimal.
I don't kill.
I herd.
Another unit blocks the corridor ahead.
Fine.
Heat compresses.
Bones lighten.
Feathers form.
Golden Crow.
Claws hook into Karaka's coat.
Fireballs spit in tight arcs down hallways — not sweeping devastation — targeted denial.
They scatter.
Smoke floods the stairwell.
I dive through a skylight.
Up.
Gone.
Behind me, confusion.
Regrouping.
Recalculation.
They tighten.
I vanish.
That's the pattern.
Pressure.
Correction.
Exit.
Scene 3 — The Strongest Princess
Maschenny stands over the aftermath.
Bodies removed.
Metal warped.
Lightning faint along her wrist.
"They lasted one minute and forty-three seconds," she says calmly.
Silence.
"Compensate the families."
The rooftop clears.
A lighthouse projection forms.
Repellista.
"You enjoyed that," she says mildly.
"I enjoyed the efficiency," Maschenny replies.
Another feed overlays.
Golden Crow.
Interior corridor.
Fire suppression arcs.
Regulars scattered.
"He is engaging another Zahard unit," the report states.
Maschenny studies it carefully.
"He's herding," she says.
"He'll disengage in under thirty seconds."
He does.
Gone.
Repellista speaks.
"He pressures and leaves."
"Yes."
"He doesn't commit."
"He chooses."
Repellista tilts her head.
"Yuri has opened channels."
Maschenny's lightning flickers once.
"Connect."
Scene 4 — Sword Held by Yuri
Yuri appears before the channel stabilizes.
Relaxed.
Amused.
"He bullied another unit," Maschenny says.
"I know," Yuri replies.
"He ran."
"He disengaged."
Maschenny's gaze sharpens.
"You're correcting me again."
"Yes."
Silence.
"I applied pressure," Maschenny says.
Yuri smiles faintly.
"And the strongest princess in the Tower couldn't make him stay."
Lightning flares.
"He chose to leave."
"Yes."
"That's the point."
Maschenny studies her.
"You think you approached him better."
"I know I did."
A pause.
"You said he refused you."
"He declined my first offer."
"And the second?"
"He accepted."
Lightning dims.
"What did you offer?"
"Information."
"From where?"
"Headon's floor."
Silence.
Maschenny exhales slowly.
"That space is only seen by irregulars."
"Yes."
"And you were there."
"Yes."
"And that Baam…"
Yuri corrects gently.
"The 25th Night."
Maschenny nods once.
"…the 25th Night."
"Yes."
"He protects the Needle," Maschenny says.
"And by extension the 25th Night."
"Yes."
Maschenny processes.
"That wasn't about the pocket."
"No."
"It was about timing."
"Yes."
"You embedded yourself at the threshold."
"Yes."
"And he honors it."
"Yes."
Maschenny's eyes narrow.
"So when I pressured him…"
"You treated him like an opponent."
"And you?"
"I offered him a trade."
Silence.
"He keeps his word," Yuri says evenly.
"And if I want something from him?"
Yuri leans slightly forward.
"Ask."
Maschenny studies her carefully.
"He respects strength."
"Yes."
"But he answers to fairness."
Another pause.
"If you push him," Yuri adds quietly, "he'll treat you like a threat."
"And if I want a fight?"
"You'll get one."
A faint smile.
"But you won't get him."
Silence stretches.
Maschenny finally nods once.
"Fair exchange."
"Yes."
The channel destabilizes.
Yuri's final words:
"If you want something from Ras… offer something real."
Projection fades.