"Father...!!"
Thorvek's composure shattered. He rushed across the cracked coral floor toward the broken throne where Grienfield Dokryong leaned, his massive frame trembling. The connection between them was clear now; Thorvek wasn't just a captain of the guard, he was the King's own blood.
"Ah... I see you... have returned..." Grienfield's voice was a jagged rasp, punctuated by wet, weak coughs that sent plumes of dark blood into the seawater. He looked up, his eyes clouded but searching.
"Have you... brought the Spear?"
Thorvek's hand tightened around the shaft of his own weapon, his knuckles white. "Forgive me, Father. The Temple had already been decimated by the time we arrived. The Spear... it was already gone."
The 'Spear' they spoke of was unmistakable. It was one of the three 'Divine Artifacts' hidden within this underwater world, the Dokryong's 'Divine Artifact', the very object that served as the clear condition for the 4th Floor. It seemed the Dokryong Clan had lost their greatest protection and their holy relic in one fell swoop. This explained why we had found Thorvek and his men so far from the palace; they had been desperately racing toward their Temple to retrieve it.
"First, let us get your wounds treated," Thorvek insisted, reaching out to support his father's sagging shoulders.
"Ah... I see... That won't be necessary," Grienfield murmured.
His gaze drifted past his son, looking toward the dark, shimmering horizon of the deep sea. I followed his stare. Emerging from the murky distance was a massive formation of Naga Warriors, their scales a different, colder shade than the Dokryong. They were moving with predatory intent, returning to finish what they had started.
"[Notice: Bloodlust from the Naga Warriors of the 'Nymera' Clan has been detected!]"
"Hyung..." Leo whispered. He had felt it too, that prickling sensation on the skin that comes when a hundred killers are locking onto their target. He was looking at me, his eyes asking the silent question of where we stood in this mess.
To me, the answer was obvious.
"Grrr... those bastards!" Thorvek spat. He looked around his ruined home. Most of the Dokryong warriors lay dead or dying in the silt. The only ones left standing were him and his five weary subordinates. They were outnumbered, outmatched, and their King was fading.
There was no place left to run. The Nymera Warriors were closing the distance at a terrifying pace. Thorvek stood silent for a long moment, his broad shoulders heaving, before he turned toward us. He did something I didn't expect; he dropped to his knees and bowed his head low, fully exposing the bare skin of his neck and back to me.
"Brave Warriors of the Land," Thorvek's voice was thick with suppressed emotion. "I have seen and sensed your strength. It is not my place to ask, and we possess very little to offer as a reward, but would you... kindly offer us your assistance?"
"Grrrr...." Grienfield grumbled painfully, his life force visibly bleeding away as the black veins of the curse crept higher up his throat.
"Raise your head, warrior of the sea," I said, stepping forward and firmly lifting him up by his shoulders. "Fear not. We will offer you our assistance. My party will help you win this war of yours."
In Naga culture, showing your bare neck and back is a sacred gesture. It signifies three things: utmost trust, complete loyalty, or the absolute sincerity of a desperate request. Thorvek's offer was the last one.
"On behalf of my father, the King, and the entire Clan, I, Thorvek Dokryong, First Son and Prince of the Dokryong Clan, swear our loyalty to you and your companions!" Thorvek exclaimed. Behind him, the remaining five warriors dropped into the same deep bow.
"[Notice: The Dokryong Clan swears their loyalty to you!]"
Some might think Thorvek was being impulsive or foolish, swearing his life to a group of strangers whose names he didn't even know. But the Dokryong were different. Even among the various Naga tribes, they valued raw capability and the weight of one's soul over trivial things like species or titles. They were the most open-minded of the sea clans, and right now, their survival instinct told them we were their only hope.
"Alright boys, it's payback time," Wilong chirped, a dangerous glint appearing in his eyes. He spun his spear, the 'Green Dragon's Bone' cutting through the water with a low hum.
We turned as one to face the encroaching Nymera army. They were much closer now, a wall of scales and steel that easily tripled our numbers. And at the front of their formation, the three commanders were radiating a presence that made the very water around them feel cold and heavy.