Volume 2 Chapter 58: "It Seems You Could Use a Little Help?"
At first, they had used Aegir as the common language, and now Ishar'mla was also speaking Aegir. Although she could no longer rely on the Seaborn' network for communication, the Seaborn could still understand her words.
So, almost without hesitation, after understanding Ishar'mla's message, all the Seaborn began to retreat, heading back the way they had come.
However, while the Seaborn wanted to leave, the Church of the Deep Followers weren't about to let them go.
"Wait, what are you doing?"
"You want to leave?"
"No, you can't do that! Weren't you supposed to lead us back to the Many?"
"..."
The Church of the Deep Followers tried to block the Seaborn, but the Seaborn completely ignored them.
The lower-level Sea Terror obeyed Ishar'mla's orders, while the more advanced, humanoid Seaborn showed a higher level of intelligence.
As the humanoid Seaborn were preparing to leave, they still spoke to these "fellow kin":
"Phosphorus-less kin, leave, return home, together."
The "home" that the Seaborn spoke of was the ocean.
One of them reached out its hand, inviting the Church of the Deep Followers who exuded the scent of kin from their bodies.
"But… weren't we here to save others on land?"
"Land-people, not kin."
The humanoid Seaborn spoke succinctly.
They had followed the Church of the Deep Followers only because the followers carried the scent of the Many's will.
Otherwise, even if they encountered these Church of the Deep Followers, they would have merely seen them as a pack of walking prey.
The will of the Many was the will of all Seaborn.
The Many would lead them to rebirth, so they would not disobey its commands.
The humanoid Seaborn's words shook many of the Church of the Deep Followers.
Some of them, who had originally joined the cult out of hardship and desperation, began to waver and even took a few steps forward to follow the Seaborn.
However, the moment they moved, others grabbed them.
"You want to run too? We came here for something far greater, not to just leave because of some strange woman's words!"
A Church of the Deep Follower shouted angrily.
He had understood Ishar'mla's words — they were in Aegir, the language of the Aegir people.
His parents had died because of their association with the Aegirs. The woman in the red dress, with neither feathers nor scales, must surely be an Aegir as well.
"As long as I kill this woman, the grand cause of the Church of the Deep will continue!"
The follower drew a dagger and rushed toward Garde and the Ishar'mla he held in his arms.
Ishar'mla only looked at him in confusion, not understanding why he showed such hostility toward her.
After all…
He was just prey.
Pfft!
A spear pierced through the Church of the Deep Follower's chest. The one who struck was none other than the humanoid Seaborn who had just spoken.
"You are not kin!"
It was as if the humanoid Seaborn had only now realized it.
"Kin do not harm kin!"
It looked around at the Church of the Deep Followers, and all the Sea Terror surrounding them began to screech.
Having ingested even a small amount of Seaborn flesh and blood, the followers' bodies had mutated enough that their original scent could no longer be hidden.
The Church of the Deep Followers, terrified, looked around at the surrounding Seaborn, afraid they might suddenly pounce and tear them apart.
"Leave."
Finally, Ishar'mla spoke.
"They are kin by blood. They are kin. Take them and leave."
Ishar'mla didn't allow the Seaborn to attack the remaining Church of the Deep Followers just because one had tried to assault her.
The other followers still carried faint traces of the kin's scent — faint, but real.
And in the days to come, this scent would grow stronger.
Eventually, these Church of the Deep Followers would fully transform into Seaborn, and finally return to the embrace of the ocean.
Without the Seaborn' support, the ordinary Church of the Deep Followers had no way to resist. They could only let the Seaborn herd them toward the sea.
Garde watched the Seaborn depart, then slowly withdrew his gaze.
The Seaborn were never saviors.
If it hadn't been for Aegir's expansion into the deep sea threatening their survival, they probably wouldn't have waged that long and bitter war against the Aegir people at all.
The Seaborn had always cared only for their own kin.
To them, other creatures were either threats or prey — although even now, Garde couldn't understand why the Seaborn believed that obtaining his "seed" would somehow allow them to evolve and become stronger.
However, since Ishar'mla had lost the ability to communicate directly with the Seaborn' collective consciousness, the Seaborn who received her orders only accounted for part of the ones in town.
Many more Seaborn were still under the control of the Church of the Deep, continuing to capture the townsfolk.
Noticing that Dario was about to arrive from the distance, Garde looked down and asked,
"Ishar'mla, can you still find that little shark?"
"Mhm," Ishar'mla nodded, pointing in a direction.
She could no longer communicate with other Seaborn, but for the young Seaborn girl who had once been a part of her own body, she could still sense her faintly.
Without hesitation, Garde left the Seaborn and Church of the Deep Followers on the outskirts behind and sprinted deeper into the town.
Behind him, Dario, who had just caught up, frowned slightly.
He had seen Garde stop and do something, but wasn't sure what exactly had happened.
He was about to follow when suddenly, he spotted two humanoid Seaborn looking straight at him.
"Humanoid Seaborn!?"
Dario's heart skipped a beat.
He knew a fierce battle was inevitable now. If it were just one humanoid Seaborn, he could still win relatively easily.
But two of them — plus a whole group of nearby Sea Terror glaring hungrily — meant he wouldn't be able to hold back.
He raised his hand cannon to prepare for a fight — but then, to his surprise, the two humanoid Seaborn looked away.
They slowly withdrew along with the other Seaborn and the Church of the Deep followers, retreating from the town.
Should he stay here and ambush them?
Or should he go into the town and find out what was going on?
After a moment's hesitation, Dario decided to circle around and enter from another side.
Meanwhile, Garde had already arrived at the town center, where the mercenaries were still desperately fighting.
And off to the side — standing among a cluster of Seaborn — he spotted a small, lone figure.
"Ah, how beautiful you are, Lady Ishar'mla. Please lead us to the vast skies, sweep away the dust clouding our hearts with your power, and grant us strength, grant us life,"
Garde saw a man dressed in an Iberian cleric's robe standing in the center of the square, praying fervently to a white-haired, red-eyed little girl.
The girl glanced at the man, then at the surrounding Seaborn, and finally at Irene and Sideroca, who were still struggling to fight off attackers down the street.
Opening her sharp, toothy mouth, she said,
"Sideroca, I'm hungry."
Even from over a hundred meters away, Garde could see the stunned look on the cleric's face.
Clearly, the man had misunderstood something — he had mistaken the girl, who was merely a flesh avatar separated from Ishar'mla's body, for Ishar'mla herself.
Without a second thought, Garde ripped a brick loose from a nearby building, weighed it in his hand, and hurled it across the hundred-meter distance toward the cleric.
The brick flew so fast it created a sonic boom in the air.
The Church of the Deep Bishop turned his head sharply, sensing the attack.
"Who—"
He barely got the word out before the brick smashed into his head, blowing it clean off his shoulders, leaving behind only a headless corpse standing awkwardly in the square.
For some reason, just seeing that cleric had filled Garde with an overwhelming urge to kill him.
Garde reached the young Seaborn girl's side, ignoring her snapping and clawing, and tossed her into Ishar'mla's arms.
Now Garde was carrying Ishar'mla, and Ishar'mla was carrying the young Seaborn girl.
Only then did Garde turn his attention to the now eerily quiet street, where Sideroca and Irene were still struggling fiercely against the Church of the Deep Followers.
On his face appeared the trademark crocodilian grin — brutal and full of fangs.
"Miss Sideroca, little inquisitor from Iberia... It seems you could use a little bit of help?"
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