"Hmm..."
I'd found something that bothered me.
The pirate ship we'd just passed—hadn't there been sharp objects jammed all over the bottom of the hull?
It might have been something I didn't need to worry about, but it still stuck in my mind. Those pirates weren't exactly the kind of people who only sailed the Great Lake for a day or two.
If it were Ishmael, she might be able to give me a clear answer, but... no, I shouldn't talk to her. I could already see us getting into another huge fight and getting chewed out by Vergilius.
"There's something that's been bothering me..."
Huh? Dante?
"Those pirates... they were confident, weren't they? That if we kept going like this, we'd definitely end up in danger..."
"That isn't particularly noteworthy, Manager. They simply believed they had the upper hand. What was unusual was the fact that countless sharp objects were embedded beneath their hull."
"...You saw that?"
"It was close, so the water was clear enough to see through."
What the hell... I can excuse myself, since my eyes are already messed up, but there's no way Meursault should be like that. He could see that with human eyes? All the way down there?
"Is that really so surprising? I've heard that in close-quarters naval combat, where ships collide, such things are not uncommon."
"The placement was concentrated on the underside of the ship, rather than where a ram would be aimed. And judging by the degree of corrosion, it doesn't seem like they were installed very long ago."
"You saw the bottom of the ship...?"
"Hmm. As I said again, it was close, so the water was clear enough to see through."
The expression on the person who'd asked—Otis, I think—shifted into one like she'd just seen something grotesque.
Mine wasn't much different.
What kind of eyesight was that? Did he get some kind of enhancement procedure or something? Ah, right. My face. Keep my face under control. Keep it under control.
Anyway, with such an interesting topic on the table, the prisoners beside us began offering their own thoughts one by one.
"Hmm~ Maybe they were trying to stop something from coming up from below?"
"I can't really imagine a fish charging straight into the bottom of a ship. It's not like a sparrow slamming into a window."
"Maybe it's nothing~ Pirates are supposed to be superstitious, right? Couldn't it just be decoration?"
"Ugh... should I have gone with that pilot's assistant after all? Faust, do you know anything?"
"Relevant information has not yet been updated. It seems best to proceed while keeping the rules of the lake in mind."
Huh? Updated? I just heard a keyword that felt like I really shouldn't let it slip by. Information gets updated? Do people usually phrase it like that?
A new question was thrown into my head. Sure, maybe it was just my imagination, but... somehow, it didn't feel that simple. The way Faust always seemed to hesitate before answering, the way her gaze often drifted into empty space... yeah, suspicious.
Not that she'd answer if I asked.
Should I press her? Interrogate her? Or just leave it alone?
Various options passed through my head, and my deeply engaged brain slowly drafted a course of action.
Just as I finally decided to do something, that distinctive heavy voice came from behind me.
"Saramago."
"Eek, uh... yes. You called?"
"That was a noisy answer. What were you thinking about?"
"Uh... well..."
I couldn't exactly say, "I was trying to dig up the secrets my boss is hiding."
Vergilius's interruption was completely unexpected. Who could have imagined that this man, who usually just sat near Charon and passed the time, would show up like this?
My brain froze at the unforeseen situation, and my expression and words both collapsed. Ah, now I definitely look suspicious. I should've just brushed it off.
"I'll give you one piece of advice. Most of the questions you have on this bus will be answered if you simply keep going and witness the oddities for yourself."
"Ah..."
...Did he read my mind or something? No matter how I looked at it, that sounded like he wanted me to leave it alone.
"Yes, understood. I'll keep it in mind."
"Hmm... well, that should do. I should head back now."
After hearing my answer, Vergilius turned back toward the cabin without the slightest hesitation.
"Hah... seriously..."
Completely dazed by that brief exchange, I stared blankly at the cabin for a while.
I'm sleepy. Had it been about two hours since the pirate attack?
Let me say it again. I'm sleepy. I'm bored.
...Why am I saying this all of a sudden? Because the voyage has been going way too smoothly.
Good things are good, sure, but when a mission that usually has some real momentum suddenly has nothing happen at all, boredom is inevitable.
Even the last mission—same reward, one Golden Bough—was over in a day, maybe three at most. But this one? It looked like a long-term assignment that would take at least ten days. The gap was just too long.
"...Otis, I think we should turn the helm to port."
"...What?"
Huh.
"Hey, didn't you say just a few dozen minutes ago that we needed to cut straight through this area at full speed?"
"We have not reached the speed I predicted. If we leave this area as things stand, we'll be met by the waves of the next zone."
"So that's the damn rule for this zone?"
"Correct. Although the battle with the pirates ended quickly, the delay itself did not change. The contents indicated by the fluctuation coordinates have changed."
"...How much longer are we supposed to rot here?"
"If we follow the instructions... we'll need to take a detour of about three days."
Ohhhhhh... This endless boredom is going to continue for at least three more days... If we were inside a Nest or the Backstreets, we could've spent the time doing something while stopped, but on a ship, that's impossible...
"...Hah."
After hearing Faust's answer, Otis chewed on her lip in obvious displeasure, then suddenly looked toward Dante and said, "Manager, I'd like to propose a method to both increase the pace of this operation and improve the odds of rescuing and securing the LCCB personnel you considered important. At the very least, there is no guarantee they'll still be in good condition after a three-day delay."
"...What are you planning to do?"
"...We do not turn the ship back."
With those words, Otis slowly pulled the speed lever upward.
Wow, had the voyage gone on too long? One of them had already lost their mind. What kind of lunatic deliberately wants to charge straight into a wave they don't even understand?
"...!"
"What?"
"...Hmm."
Faust, Ishmael, and Vergilius each reacted to Otis's words in their own way.
Yeah, Ishmael's going to get angry. I'm just going to keep lying here. No matter how you look at it, Otis is the one who's out of her mind.
"Are you insane? You know a wave is coming, and you want to go into it?"
"I've heard things about the waves too, seal. Did you think I wouldn't know? I'd say you've had plenty of experience surviving them yourself."
"Of course I have! But those were waves we had no choice but to face because we lacked information. We never knowingly sailed into one."
"But you survived them, didn't you?"
Ah, this is hopeless. So that was the plan from the start, huh?
"..."
"Even back when we didn't have infinite lives like now. That means we can handle it. On top of that, we shorten the operation and increase the rescue odds that the Manager and a few underlings wanted. Ishmael, you didn't seem to like how sluggish we've been. Did you want to sun-dry for three days?"
Instead of answering the sarcasm, Ishmael stared toward the direction the ship was accelerating in, her eyes narrowed.
"Waves... smell... speed... color... 'a spinning, cloudy, fishy blue lake'... I haven't experienced that lake myself, but I do know plenty of ships have been wrecked by its waves."
"Then we just have to make sure we aren't one of them."
Wow. What a mindset. Is this bastard actually insane?
"Uh... if we go and it seems bad... we can just come back, right? Can't we?"
At Sinclair's timid question, Ishmael flew into a rage as if she'd just heard something unbelievable.
"Come back...?! In this lake... there is no concept of... going back the way you came!"
That's something he might not have known, so did she really need to get that angry... ah, right. It was in the guidebook. Yeah, if he hadn't read that either, I guess she had every right to be mad. If you came to the Great Lake without knowing anything at all, that is.
Just as the atmosphere was getting worse and worse, Faust cautiously asked Dante for his decision.
"What shall we do, Dante?"
"...Let's do as Otis says and try it once."
"Yes. We'll cross the zone boundary and head for the designated lake."
"Good heavens... Hah. Otis. Your idea had better work..."
- Rumble!
The instant Ishmael finished muttering, thunder crashed from the sky. The omen of the wave. So there's no way to avoid it now.
Dante's pretty crazy too. I always thought he was crazy, but to try to force a path straight through this... was it courage born of ignorance? Or confidence backed by reason...?
"Thunder...?"
"...The rain is coming down hard."
"We're in the eye of the storm."
"You mean... we entered a typhoon with no warning at all...?"
"It means the wave has already arrived, Manager."
We'll find out if it works. What's there to lose?
Once the prisoners' exchange ended, Vergilius looked at us with an inscrutable expression.
"...Hmm. That was an interesting sight. Charon. Shall we use that function now?"
"Okay, brace mode. Switch."
- Clatter, boom!
Oh, the deck expanded. So it had a function like that built in. Well, it would be absurd not to account for fighting on the deck while crossing the Great Lake.
The wind blowing in, the rain falling from the sky, even the smell of salt in the air. Danger could be felt everywhere around us. The sensation of the unknown drawing near, something instinctive and primal.
...I don't hate this feeling.
"So what are we supposed to do now... Ishmael?"
"...If you're a rookie sailor just beginning your first voyage on the Great Lake, there's something you're bound to hear at least once. 'If you ever find yourself trapped in a lake where you don't know what kind of wave will rise, there is only one thing you can trust.'"
- Fwoooooosh───!!!
Before Ishmael could even finish speaking, a colossal wave revealed itself.
"What. I. Mean. If you want to die even a little later, you'd better have your weapon ready."
"'It isn't your sailing skill... nor the guide who can see ten thousand miles ahead... nor the sticky bond between comrades.'"
And then, a giant hand emerged from beneath the lake and seized the ship's deck.
- Splat, boom!!!
"'Many cannot endure this and choose instead to offer themselves as sacrifices to the bottom of the lake.'"
Then, from the hand gripping the edge of the deck, monsters began climbing up one by one.
"What is it? What's crawling up?"
Sinclair seemed unable to make sense of the situation on his own, his eyes darting all over the place.
On the other hand, Otis, apparently having heard something somewhere, recited Ishmael's words right back.
"'You must simply trust in your will to remain sane through any chaos or trembling.'"
So then...
"'Though whether the lake will ever grow calm for the likes of you is another matter.'"
Let's go once.
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