The sky above the Grey Expanse had no color. There was no blue, no black, only a giant sheet of lead pressing down on the sea surface until the water looked as hard as molten metal.
The storm didn't arrive with a dramatic rumble of thunder warning. It came with a suffocating silence, followed by a wall of wind that slammed into The Banshee's Wail mercilessly.
"Tighten the mainsail! Lower the storm jib!"
Captain Barossa's shouts sounded faint amidst the deafening roar of the wind. The schooner tilted nearly forty-five degrees, its hull groaning violently as if its bones were being snapped one by one.
Inside the cramped cabin in the ship's belly, Elian was thrown from his hammock for the third time in an hour.
THUD!
His body slammed hard against the wooden wall. His newly healed right shoulder screamed in protest, sending blinding pain signals to his toes. But that pain was quickly overshadowed by the crushing sensation compressing his chest.
The Ring of Weight on his left index finger reacted to the centrifugal force of the tossing ship. When the ship was thrown to the crest of a ten-meter wave, Elian's body felt feather-light, his stomach churning as if his organs were floating. But when the ship plummeted into the trough, the ring's artificial gravity multiplied his body weight.
Elian felt like a piece of meat being pounded by a giant hammer repeatedly.
"Ugh..." Elian crawled on the floor, trying to reach the bedpost. The wooden floor was slick with vomit and seawater seeping through the cracks in the planks.
"Don't fight it," Lunaria's voice sounded calm, almost meditative, in the midst of the chaos.
The Elf Queen sat in the corner of the room, her legs locked between cargo crates nailed to the floor. Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady. To Lunaria, this storm was merely nature dancing a little roughly.
"Master... this ship... feels like it's going to break..." Elian hissed, managing to grip a table leg that was bolted down.
"This ship is made of Ironwood grown in salt marshes. It's stronger than it looks," Lunaria replied without opening her eyes. "Focus on your Mana, Elian. What do you feel out there?"
Elian closed his eyes, fighting the urge to vomit. He extended his Nature Sense beyond the cabin walls.
In the forest, Elian felt life. Trees, insects, whispering winds.
But here... in the middle of this sea storm... he felt pure violence.
Water Mana particles in the air collided with each other at supersonic speeds, creating wild sparks of static energy. The ocean wasn't "alive" in a biological sense; the ocean was a raging giant, blind and deaf, wanting to crush anything floating on it.
And amidst that Mana chaos, Elian's body—whose cells had been modified by dragon blood and fate—began to react. His pores opened wide, greedily absorbing the kinetic energy and wild water Mana.
It hurt. Like having ice water injected directly into his veins.
"Cold..." Elian shivered.
"Absorb it," Lunaria commanded. "Make that cold your fuel. If you can synchronize the vibration of your bones with the frequency of this storm, the weight of that ring will feel slightly lighter."
Suddenly, the alarm bell on the upper deck rang frantically.
CLANG! CLANG! CLANG!
Not the rhythm of a normal storm. That was the rhythm of an attack.
"All hands on deck! Bring weapons! They're climbing the hull!" the Bosun's shout sounded panicked.
Lunaria opened her eyes. The violet in her irises shone sharply in the dark cabin.
"Your training has arrived," Lunaria said, standing smoothly even though the ship was tilting. She tossed an oilskin rain cloak to Elian. "Wear this. Bring your Karambits. And don't die foolishly by slipping."
Elian put on the cloak with difficulty, his heavy hands trembling as he buttoned it. He tucked the Twin Karambits into his belt.
"What's attacking?" Elian asked.
"Parasites," Lunaria answered briefly, opening the cabin door. Wet wind immediately slapped their faces.
***
The deck of The Banshee's Wail was the definition of a wet hell.
Rain fell not as drops, but as sheets of water that stung the skin. Black waves towered on the left and right sides of the ship like crumbling fortress walls. Lightning flashed, illuminating the horrific scene around the ship.
Hundreds of creatures the size of cats were crawling up from the sea, clinging to the ship's hull, and leaping onto the deck.
They looked like giant leeches with rusted metal shells. Their mouths were circular, filled with rotating teeth capable of grinding wood and iron.
Iron-Shell Remoras.
Usually, these creatures attached themselves to the bellies of whales or large sea monsters. But if their host died or if they were starving, they would attack ships, eating the iron nails and hull wood until the vessel leaked and sank.
"Protect the masts! Don't let them eat the rigging!" Captain Barossa shouted. He stood on the bridge, firing his magic flintlock pistol.
BANG!
One Remora exploded, green fluid spurting.
Elian stepped out of the hatch, instantly greeted by wind that nearly threw his light body into the sea.
"Ugh!" Elian grabbed the stair railing. The Ring of Weight pulled his left hand down, nearly dislocating it.
One Remora jumped at him. Its teeth spun with a terrifying whirring sound.
Elian couldn't dodge quickly. His feet were planted heavily on the wet floor.
Use the waves.
Just as the Remora was mid-air, the ship tilted sharply to the left.
Elian released his grip on the railing, letting his body fall with the tilting gravity. The Remora missed, slamming into the wooden wall behind Elian, its teeth embedding deep into the wood.
While the creature was stuck for a moment, Elian drew the Karambit in his right hand (the hand without the ring).
Slash!
The curved blade sliced the soft underbelly of the Remora, between the gaps of its iron shell.
Foul-smelling green blood sprayed, soaking Elian's face.
"Disgusting," Elian muttered, wiping his eyes.
He looked around. The crew was overwhelmed. There were too many Remoras. They didn't attack humans directly; they attacked the ship. They ate sail ropes, ate door hinges, ate floor pegs.
If this continued, the ship would fall apart in the middle of the storm.
"Jax!"
Elian saw Jax, the young sailor he saved yesterday, struggling to pull a Remora biting his calf. The Remora began to grind through Jax's leather leg guard.
"Help!" Jax screamed, hitting the hard shell with a dagger, but it was futile.
Elian moved.
He couldn't run. He crawled. Using four limbs like a spider, Elian crept over the slippery deck, keeping his center of gravity as low as possible to avoid being thrown by the wind.
He reached Jax.
"Don't hit the shell, you idiot!" Elian shouted—forgetting his role as a mute because the storm noise drowned out everything.
Elian jammed the tip of his Karambit into the gap between the shell and Jax's flesh. He didn't slice, but levered.
Crack!
The Remora was forced off. Its mouth tore.
Before the creature could bite again, Elian stomped on it with his iron boot, then stabbed its brain.
Jax stared at Elian with wide eyes, breathing heavily. "Y-you..."
"Rope!" Elian pointed to a mast near them. "Tie yourself! The storm will get worse!"
Sure enough. A giant wave—a Rogue Wave—was seen coming from the starboard side. It was taller than the ship's mast.
"BRACE YOURSELVES!" Barossa shouted from above.
Elian looked at the wave. He knew he wouldn't be strong enough to hold on just by hugging the mast. The weight ring would make him sink like a stone if he was swept overboard.
He pulled out the coil of hemp rope he stole from the storeroom yesterday.
With a heavy and stiff left hand, and a right hand slick with green blood, Elian began to tie a knot.
The Binding Knot. Fast. Faster.
His fingers moved automatically, remembering the painful training from the night before.
He wrapped the rope around his own waist, then threw the end onto the iron railing near the main mast.
Click. Pull. Lock.
The knot was done in three seconds.
BOOOM!
The wave hit.
The world turned white and cold.
Elian felt his body lifted by thousands of tons of water. His feet left the floor. He floated, dragged by a violent current wanting to throw him into the open sea.
But the rope held.
The knot tightened, squeezing Elian's stomach until he felt like vomiting, but it didn't slip.
When the water receded, Elian coughed, hanging like a wet doll on the railing. Around him, some Remoras were swept clean back into the sea, but two crew members were also missing—carried away by the waves because their grip wasn't strong enough.
"Damn it..." Elian spat saltwater.
He looked up. Lunaria was still standing on high ground, atop the captain's cabin roof. She was drenched but didn't move an inch. Her hand held her bow, shooting Remoras trying to eat the ship's rudder with impossible accuracy in the middle of a storm.
Elian felt small.
I am weak. I almost died just because of water.
However, as he tried to stand again, he felt something strange.
The ring on his finger... felt slightly lighter?
No. The weight was the same. But Elian's bones were vibrating.
The vibration of his dragon bones had matched the frequency of the ship's vibration. Subconsciously, in his effort to survive the wave impact earlier, Elian's body had synchronized.
He was no longer fighting the storm. He became part of it.
Elian took a deep breath. Air full of water mana particles entered his lungs.
Fresh.
His fatigue lessened slightly. His eyes became sharper.
out of the corner of his eye, he saw the remaining Remoras still clinging to the deck, confused after the wave hit.
Elian smirked faintly. A smirk inappropriate for a child his age.
He untied his rope from the railing but left it tied to his waist (as a safety line).
"Let's clean up this trash," he whispered.
Elian moved.
This time, he didn't crawl. He walked with bent knees, his body swaying with the chaotic rhythm of the ship.
One Remora jumped.
Elian tilted his shoulder. The Remora missed.
Elian spun the Karambit in his left hand—the hand wearing the ring.
Swing.
The weight of the ring added momentum to the swing. The Karambit blade slammed into the Remora's shell so hard it cracked the iron casing.
Crush.
The Remora died instantly.
Elian surprised himself. This ring... if I use its momentum, it's no longer a burden. It's a hammer.
He moved to the next Remora.
Left. Right. Stab. Lever.
In the middle of the storm, on a tilting and wet deck, Elian danced a clumsy yet deadly dance. He wasn't a graceful warrior. He was an efficient scavenger.
Grum, who had just come out of the kitchen carrying a meat cleaver to help, paused to watch the scene.
He saw the "mute boy" moving strangely, staggering like a drunkard, but every time he stumbled, a monster died.
"Demon brat," Grum muttered, then charged into the battle.
***
An hour later, the storm began to subside. The last Remora had been killed or returned to the sea.
Elian sat leaning against the main mast, soaked, freezing, and covered in green blood. His body shook violently—this time from hypothermia and adrenaline exhaustion.
Jax came bringing him a rough wool blanket.
"Thank you," Jax said awkwardly. "That... your knot saved you. And that knife... you're not a normal servant, are you?"
Elian stared at Jax with empty eyes. He remembered his role. He pointed to his throat and shook his head, pretending he couldn't speak again.
Jax scratched his head. "Well, whatever. You saved my leg. If you need extra rum rations, just tell me."
Jax left.
Elian closed his eyes, pulling the blanket tight. He felt the water Mana inside his body slowly settling, strengthening his damaged muscle tissue.
"Good," Lunaria's voice whispered beside him. She appeared out of nowhere, dry as if never touched by rain. "You found the rhythm. Synchronization Stage 1."
"They... ran..." Elian mumbled, teeth chattering.
"Who?"
"Those Remoras... they didn't attack out of hunger," Elian said, his eyes staring into the dark sea. "They ran. There is something down there... something that scared them."
Lunaria looked at the sea. Her face was serious.
"I know. I've felt it since we left the harbor."
"What is it?"
"Something that is 'tasting' your existence," Lunaria answered mysteriously. "It hasn't attacked yet. It's just observing. Maybe waiting for us to enter deeper waters."
Elian stared at the ring on his finger. The skin around the ring was raw and red.
"Let it come," Elian whispered, his voice holding a hint of growing madness. "I need a bigger punching bag than iron leeches."
In the distance, behind the thinning fog, a giant black fin sliced the water surface again, then vanished silently. The journey was only a third of the way through, and the sea had already begun collecting its toll.