Seconds bled into miserably, slow minutes. Minutes stretched into two hours—two long, grueling hours that Zay had counted since the last time the guards appeared from the corridors.
The guards suddenly walked down the long corridors, their footsteps vanishing.
He counted every second again, needing to confirm whether his calculation held true.
One minute, fifteen seconds.
More footsteps echoed, and new guards, dressed in all white entered the chamber.
'Just like last time… so it's safe to assume there's always a minute and fifteen seconds between shifts. And it takes two hours for each rotation to complete…'
As he drifted deeper into thought, another wave crashed into the hull, causing the ship to lurch violently before correcting itself, the deck groaning as it rebalanced. Rain continued to hammer down on the vessel like a relentless curse. Thunder boomed in the distance, each rumble louder than the last, as the clouds above swelled darker and heavier.
The faint sunlight that once peeked through the overcast sky vanished entirely—swallowed by a curtain of storm-black clouds as the rain intensified, turning into a downpour of rage.
"...Any ideas on how the hell we get out of here?" Renzo asked in a whispered tone.
Zay closed his eyes and focused for a few seconds. He let out a heavy sigh, then responded in a hushed voice.
"We wait until the next shift. When the footsteps vanish, we tell the others... and pray it works."
Renzo nodded slowly at first, then abruptly shook his head and turned to face Zay.
"What the hell? That sounds like the worst plan ever..."
"Well... let me know if you've got something better."
Renzo looked up at the ceiling, then gave a slow, exaggerated nod. "Best plan I've ever heard."
With that, he sighed and slumped back against the wall just as a guard approached the cell. Bright blue eyes shimmered in the dim light, glaring at the prisoners with open disgust. She rolled her eyes and walked away, her long white hair flowing behind her with an unnatural grace in each step.
'Another bitch... hopefully she doesn't get turned on by human torture too...' Renzo thought, exhaling softly through his nose.
As if on cue, the rain began hammering harder against the ship. A loud growl echoed through the hull as four guards suddenly sprinted down the left corridor. Seven remained in the chamber, the woman included.
She walked to the center of the room and took a seat in a lone chair, her eyes never leaving the cell. She blinked—maybe seven times a minute—each one reluctant, as if even the act of blinking was too generous for the bastards behind bars.
Waves slammed into the vessel with increasing violence. Screams echoed from above deck, but the guards didn't flinch. They kept marching in that same robotic rhythm—just like the shift before them.
All except the woman in white.
She had stopped blinking. Her body leaned forward slightly in the chair, lips parted as her gaze shifted—not at the prisoners, but toward the ceiling, as if she felt something the others didn't feel at first.
Then came a sound.
Not thunder.
Not rain.
Something… wrong.
A deep groan from beneath the sea, cracked through the air like a whirlpool. The floor trembled—not from the storm—but from something far larger brushing the ship's underside.
The woman in white stood.
The guards stopped mid-step. Every last one of them turned at once, like puppets pulled by the same string. Their heads tilted upward. Silence followed—thick and final.
Then came the crash.
Something breached the ocean surface outside with a sound like mountains colliding. A monstrous wave swallowed the ship's bow, sending it lurching back and sideways. The vessel groaned under the weight of whatever had risen beside it.
Screams erupted again, but this time they weren't from the crew—they came from the guards. Controlled, expressionless guards… now sprinting toward the stairs.
"All units, above deck!" someone shouted from above the cells. His voice was so loud that all of the prisoners heard him. "Get it away from the hull!"
The woman in white was the last to leave. She glanced at the cell one final time, then vanished with the rest.
Zay's heart thudded in his chest. The silence left behind felt heavier than the crashing waves. He closed his eyes for a moment, trying to still his thoughts.
And that's when the message appeared:
[Forsaken by Dawn has drawn the attention of a ????? ????????]
All of the guards, without hesitation, rushed to the deck. Their forms shimmered as they activated their aura—colors igniting in streaks of red, blue, yellow, green, orange, and several different colors. The dim light of the storm seemed to recoil from the energy they released.
Then came the sound of footsteps—heavy, deliberate.
From a sealed door near the helm, a figure emerged.
He moved with the presence of someone who had no equal on the vessel. Dressed in immaculate, polished white armor, not a single speck of dust clung to his form despite the chaos. A long emerald-green cape flowed behind him like a burning banner.
He paused at the edge of the upper deck, overlooking his soldiers, the sea, and the storm that was raging.
Without a word, he reached for his helmet and slid it on—sleek, smooth, and etched with ancient glyphs.
Then he drew his blade.
A greatsword forged of pulsating emerald green aura roared to life in his grip, the blade humming with raw pressure. It curved slightly at the edge, light devouring itself along its edge.
His voice cut through the storm.
"AS THE COMMANDER OF MOLTEN RIDGE—PROTECT THE SHIP, AND KILL THE GODCRAB!"
A silence followed. Not hesitation—but reverence.
And then the sea screamed.
The creature rose fully from the abyss, casting a shadow large enough to darken the entire ship. Water cascaded off its shell like falling waterfalls, revealing ancient runes etched deep into the black, barnacle-covered surface—sigils glowing with a long-forgotten power.
Its claws, the size of kingdoms, gleamed with an unnatural sharpness. Each step it took upon the ocean floor sent tidal waves crashing in every direction.
The Godcrab had arrived.
Rain poured in sheets, lashing against the vessel as thunder echoed through the skies and lightning arced across the heavens in jagged streaks. The ship rocked violently under the weight of the rising waves, and above deck, chaos bloomed into something far worse.
The barnacles on the Godcrab's shell exploded—shards of salt and shell flying like shrapnel—as several grotesque sea beasts launched onto the deck. One creature landed with a squelch that made the boards beneath it groan. It was vaguely humanoid, but horribly twisted: its neck leaned unnaturally to the side, its limbs replaced by nine dripping tentacles. Seaweed clung to its slick, gray skin, pulsing as though alive. With a screech that shattered the air, the creature's cry caused the wood of the ship around it to crack and strain.
Another beast towered beside it—shaped like a monstrous seahorse, its scaled hide covered in shifting patterns like waves. It reared its long head and stared down at the guards, eyes glowing with a deep, ominous blue.
Several more emerged, crawling or leaping onto the deck with guttural snarls and hisses. Then, from behind the horde, stepped a creature unlike the rest.
A horse.
But not just any horse—it shimmered with oceanic brilliance. Its coat glowed bright blue, and its body moved like it was made of liquid. Its eyes, though formed of rippling water, locked onto the guards with eerie intelligence. It didn't charge. It stood. Watching. Commanding.
The Godcrab loomed in the distance, unmoving, almost… waiting.
The guards faltered—if only for a second—as they realized the colossal beast wasn't attacking. Confusion hit. But training kicked in.
"Formation five!" one shouted.
The deck thundered as the guards rushed forward, aura flaring around their bodies. The wood beneath their feet creaked and groaned under their weight and the force of their movement, soaked and splintered by the storm.
Lightning struck nearby, sending blinding flashes across the battlefield. Thunder roared. Rain kept hammering down. And the sea creatures met the charge.
Tentacles whipped through the air, clashing against aura-forged shields. The seahorse beast opened its maw and spat a pressurized jet of dark water that blasted a guard off his feet. The watery horse neighed—no, howled—and the others surged forward, coordinated and relentless.
Steel clashed with claw. Aura sliced through slime.
The blue horse lifted its head—and howled.
Not like any beast, not like any horse. The sound was a dreadful, gurgling roar that seemed to come from the sea itself. It echoed through the rain and thunder, warping the air with shockwaves.
And the creatures listened.
As if awakened from a daze, they moved with newfound precision. The tentacled horror twisted its body and wrapped three guards in its limbs, slamming them violently into the mast. The seahorse creature struck low, its head crashing into a shieldbearer's ribs and sending him hurtling overboard with a scream lost in the rain.
Another beast leapt through the air and landed on a guard's back, clawing with webbed fingers until blood sprayed across the deck.
The guards were overwhelmed.
Until the man in polished white armor stepped forward.
The commander of Molten Ridge jumped down from the helm with a thunderous clang, his blade made of pure green aura crackling in his hand as he landed between the sea creatures and his men. Rain pelted his armor, lightning gleamed across his helmet, and his voice broke through the chaos with sharp authority:
"Strike low! Beneath the ribs! THERE—SLASH THE CORE!"
His blade swept upward and sliced clean through one of the twisted beasts. The creature let out a choked gargle as a dark blue orb, tinged faintly with red, burst from its chest—shattering like glass before dissolving into steam.
The guards snapped to attention.
One by one, they began to fight back with new information. Eyes scanned for the core. Aura-coated blades cut precise arcs through monstrous flesh, and each time the orb was struck, the creature disintegrated in a surge of mist and blood.
"Behind you—Rilak, LEFT FLANK!"
The commander never stopped moving. His aura burned like wildfire through the storm, carving a path of green through the battlefield.
A dozen creatures fell.
And still, more emerged.
His eyes scanned the view before him, he saw it.
That damned blue horse, standing still as a statue, eyes of water glowing with an eerie bright blue.
The commander raised his sword high, aura swirling at its edge.
"THE HORSE!" he bellowed. "IN THE BACK! IT'S CONTROLLING THEM! TAKE IT DOWN!"
All eyes turned.
The guards surged forward again.
And the ocean roared back in kind as more creatures appeared from the ocean itself.