Volume 2 Chapter 43: A Seaborn Walks Ashore
In Trimounts City, after leaving Trimounts Institute of Technology, Garde made a trip to the supermarket.
He had spent three days in Ho'olheyak's office, which meant that aside from briefly showing up on his first day, Garde hadn't even bothered to do something as simple as clocking in.
But did Garde feel guilty about it? Of course not.
If he could skip work on his own merit, why should he feel guilty?
If Kristen wasn't happy about it, she could dock his pay or even fire him outright.
Garde wouldn't mind.
What did trouble him, though, was Muelsyse, who had accused him of dumping Whisperain on her and then disappearing.
For that, Garde did feel a little guilty.
So, before heading home, he deliberately went to the supermarket.
He remembered the last time he went shopping with Muelsyse—she had picked out all kinds of snacks, candies, and chocolates. She didn't seem worried about gaining weight at all. If he gave her some as a peace offering, she probably wouldn't mind.
In fact, Garde was curious—could Muelsyse even gain weight?
But the snacks for Muelsyse only took up a small portion of his shopping bag. The bulk of it was meant for little Whisperain.
Ever since he had taken in Whisperain, he had either left her with Zuma and the High Priest or dumped her on Muelsyse. He hadn't really taken care of her himself, and that made him feel a bit guilty.
Still, even though he felt guilty, he didn't go out of his way to establish a presence in Whisperain's life. He knew he couldn't take care of her forever, and letting Muelsyse raise her while working under Muelsyse seemed like a solid option.
At the very least, Muelsyse treated her own people well.
Garde carried his bag and walked toward the Rhine Lab residential district. His tall frame made him stand out, but he paid no attention to it.
Along the way, he overheard people talking about an explosion in the Lower District. Apparently, it had happened at a Rhine Lab laboratory, and a lot of people had died.
Garde frowned slightly but didn't go investigate.
If it was something serious, Kristen would have already called him.
Since she hadn't, it meant one of three things: she either had enough people handling it, she didn't trust him, or there was something in that lab that couldn't be exposed.
Garde firmly believed that violence could solve most problems in this world. But if it wasn't enough violence, the trouble it brought could be far worse.
However, trouble didn't always wait for you to go looking for it.
As Garde passed by a narrow alleyway, he caught the scent of something salty and fishy—just like the scent he had smelled on Parvis that day.
Garde stopped in his tracks.
From deep within the alley, a grotesque creature slowly crawled out, pushing out the arrows lodged in its body as it moved.
Garde's expression darkened.
He immediately understood what had happened. He had specifically warned people about this, but someone clearly hadn't listened.
Raising his hand, he prepared to eliminate the creature.
But then, he sensed something—its consciousness had changed.
It was as if another soul had suddenly taken control of the creature's body.
Feeling this presence, Garde's eyes filled with disbelief.
"You!?"
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Iberia
Iberia is the only nation in Terra entirely connected to the ocean.
Other nations—Yan, Sargon, and Leithanien—are shielded from the deep-sea threats by their high altitudes.
Only Iberia faces the horrors of the deep at all times.
With the Iberian fleet, which once sought to conquer the sea, lost to storms in the far reaches of the ocean, the Golden Age came to an end. This nation, like a beast with its spine broken, could do nothing but retreat into the shadows and lick its wounds.
Yet, no matter the circumstances—
As long as there is faith, as long as there is belief—
Even among the ruins, tender blades of grass will still sprout, defying destruction.
"Hey! Yeah, you! Sneaking around over there—what's in your bag?"
"What? Drinks? That looks like booze to me!"
"I remember you promised Aunt Melissa that you would never drink again."
In a small town in Iberia, a silver-haired girl with a rapier at her waist was chattering away, scolding a middle-aged man who looked utterly helpless.
"Irene, even if you're an Inquisitor now, having a couple of drinks isn't exactly a crime, is it?"
"But every time you drink, you cause trouble! So I'm confiscating this!"
The girl named Irene puffed out her chest and raised her head proudly, stretching out her hand.
"If you don't hand it over, I'll tell Aunt Melissa!"
The middle-aged man let out a sigh. He knew that the girl in front of him was just eager to assert her newfound authority as an Inquisitor.
But to him, being forbidden from drinking was pure torment.
"Alright, alright, for Dario's sake."
Just as the man was about to pass the bag to the girl, a flash of red flickered before his eyes.
"This is..."
He froze, his expression shifting to one of growing terror. Even after all these years, he could never forget the sight of his comrades being devoured by the monsters from the deep sea.
"It's them. They're here. They're here!"
The middle-aged man shouted in fear.
"Irene, run! They're coming!"
He shoved the girl aside forcefully. His legs were trembling—ever since resigning from his position as an Inquisitor, he had neglected his training, and his strength was long gone.
He was terrified. He was shaking.
But he did not run.
Because this was his town. This was his home.
"Uncle Edmund?"
Irene didn't understand what was happening. She followed the man's gaze and saw a red figure standing in the middle of the street.
A girl in a red dress had appeared at some point, standing motionless on the wide road. Carriages pulled by camel-beasts passed by her, yet she remained unfazed, as if unconcerned about being hurt.
Her long silver hair cascaded freely like a flowing river, and her crimson eyes stared unblinkingly into the distance, as if searching for something.
"An Aegir?"
Irene was puzzled and began to step forward—only to have her hand grabbed.
She turned to see the middle-aged man, once an Inquisitor like her, clutching her wrist. His eyes were filled with fear and despair as he looked at the figure on the street and said, in a trembling voice, word by word:
"She is a monster. A monster from the sea."
Irene's pupils contracted to the size of a needlepoint.
As an Inquisitor, how could she not know what kind of monsters he was talking about?
But... a humanoid Seaborn!?
Yet when Irene turned her head back, the figure in the street had vanished.
As if everything she had just seen had been an illusion.
The girl in the red dress had not noticed—or perhaps did not care—that two Iberian Inquisitors had recognized her for what she was.
Draped in a red dress woven from fungal fibers, wearing boots crafted from memories stolen from Ishar'mla, she took a step forward.
And with each step, she moved impossibly far.
She—or rather, It—had spent months evolving into its current form.
With this appearance now, there should be no more rejection.
She had discovered that a part of her severed flesh had taken root in the ground, grown, and gained its own consciousness.
And it was very close to that person.
So, she controlled that part of herself to seek out that person.
And she spoke.
"Hunter, I have come to find you."
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