Location: Open Waters, Two Days After Ashen Maw
The waves had returned, but the calm wasn't comforting.
The Red Blade sailed under clear skies, yet the crew moved with the restless weight of the unknown. Ever since they'd left the Ashen Maw, something in the sea had changed. The wind whispered with a rhythm too precise to be nature. Even the gulls avoided them.
Ankit stood near the stern, quietly running a whetstone across the edge of his twin blades. His knuckles still bore the scabs from the Fogborn encounter. Every pass of the stone helped him forget the words of that ash-haired man.
"You carry two burdens."
He exhaled slowly.
"You sure that stone's sharper than your thoughts?" Shanks asked behind him, smirking.
Ankit didn't look up. "Depends. You ever sharpen a secret?"
Shanks grinned and leaned against the railing. "A few. Most don't survive the grind."
They stood in silence. Brothers not in blood, but in blade.
Suddenly, the wind shifted—fast.
From the crow's nest, Mace's voice boomed: "Captain! Something's floating off port bow!"
Shanks snapped to attention. "Turn two points starboard!"
The helmsman spun the wheel.
Within moments, the shape came into view: a small wooden capsule bobbing in the waves. Cylindrical. Metal-bound. Markings etched in strange ink across its surface.
Shanks leapt down to the deck. "Bring it aboard!"
A rope hook retrieved the capsule. Water drained from its seams as it landed with a hollow thunk. Ankit knelt beside it, eyes narrowing at the faded symbol scorched onto the lid.
"…a black sun and crossed rifles."
Shanks muttered, "That's… not from around here."
They cracked it open.
Inside was a rolled parchment, sealed with wax, and beneath it—a single bronze medallion shaped like an eye staring into a compass.
Mace whistled. "That's military. Not Marine, though."
Ankit held the medallion. His fingers twitched.
[System Alert: Unknown Symbol Detected – Sync Pattern Match: 23%]
Interpretation Suggested: Message of Precursor Origin
Without hesitation, Shanks unsealed the letter and read aloud:
"To the ones sailing toward fire—
The Black Tides stir again. The Line awakens.
Seek the Whispering Harpoon. It points to the Sleeping Forge.
If you reach the Forge, choose your flame wisely.
The Wrong Blade burns the bearer."
— Signed: C.
A beat of silence passed.
"Is this a riddle or a threat?" Mace asked.
Shanks ran a hand through his hair. "It's a challenge."
Ankit felt the sea again. The waves rolled heavier. The sky dimmed—not from clouds, but something deeper.
Location: Below Deck – Ankit's Quarters
Ankit sat on the floor, cross-legged, the system interface blinking softly in the dim lantern light.
[System Processing Symbol: "Black Tides"]
Corruption Status: Unknown
Associated with: ??? (Data Locked)
Warning: You are being watched.
A new skill prompt hovered faintly, flickering.
??? Trait Unlock Pathway (Proficiency Locked)
Requirements:
– Observe the Whispering Harpoon
– Survive the next Tide Surge
– Choose Truth over Power
He muttered, "Not ominous at all."
He reached for his blade—but it wasn't his grip he felt.
For a second, he saw it—flashes of another place. Black waves. Silver fire. A giant, broken anchor half-buried in a blood-red sea.
And in the distance… something watching.
[System Interrupt – Mental Surge Detected]
Recommendation: Rest. Focus. Reset Path.
Ankit staggered to his feet, breathing hard.
Whatever this "Black Tide" was… it was already awake.
Location: Deck – That Night
The crew gathered around the brazier, where Lucky Mace flipped dried meat with one hand and kept a pistol nearby with the other. The stars above were faint. The moon looked bloated.
"So…" Mace muttered, "This medallion… that weird forge talk… any of this ring a bell, Captain?"
Shanks sat on a crate, elbows on his knees. "Only that we've just crossed into waters no sane map touches."
He turned to Ankit. "You're quiet. You've seen something, haven't you?"
Ankit hesitated. Then said, "There's something beneath these messages. A pattern. A rhythm. Someone—or something—is trying to lead us… or test us."
He didn't mention the system. Not yet. Not even to Shanks.
"I say we follow it," Ankit added. "But with eyes open."
Shanks looked at him and nodded slowly. "Good. Because whatever this 'Sleeping Forge' is… if it's tied to weapons or answers, the sea won't let us take it for free."
A long pause followed. Then Shanks stood.
"Next destination: Deadmen's Vane. If the Whispering Harpoon is real, it's somewhere near that cursed inlet."
Mace paled. "That's pirate grave territory."
Shanks grinned.
"Exactly."
[SYSTEM PANEL – USER: ANKIT]
Status: Slightly Fatigued
World Integration Sync: 7.1%
Mental Distortion: Minor (Flagged by System)
Combat Skill Proficiency – Updated:
Dual Sword Style – Lv. 2
Efficiency Rating: 49%
Flow Reading: ★★☆☆☆
Form Adaptation Rate: 13%
Off-Hand Coordination: 66%
Momentum Reversal: Locked
Style Branch Unlocks: 0/3
Tactical Awareness – Lv. 1
Threat Assessment: 33%
Reflex Sync: 19%
Prediction Edge: Locked
Mental Focus – Lv. 1
Combat Concentration: 42%
Fatigue Delay: Minor
Insight Surge: Triggered (Watch Condition)
Hidden System Notes:
⚠️ Foreign Signature Detected: [C.]
⚠️ Foreshadow Level: Stage 1 Initiated
⚠️ Next Trigger Event: Contact with Harpoon Relic
End of Chapter 12 – The Message in the Sea
Next: Chapter 13 – "Deadmen's Vane"