Chapter 3
Lighting
The young man kept his gaze fixed on the spear lodged in the center of the room. It was hard to look away from that impossible object, as if the moment he did, it might pierce through him again.
Slowly, he withdrew his hand from his stomach. He raised it before him, fearing to see it stained red.But there was no blood—only the faint tremor of his damp fingers. He breathed deeply, relieved, though he didn't allow himself to fully trust it.
Cautiously, he brought his hand back to his abdomen. This time, he decided to truly check. With clumsy movements, he opened the uniform still hanging half loose on his body. The fabric was drenched and heavy, and each button he freed seemed to take too long. When at last he lifted the left side of the shirt, he first felt with his fingers, then lowered his gaze.
Nothing.Not a cut, not a trace of blood. His skin was intact. Only the pain remained—deep, persistent—but even that was beginning to fade.
Relief mixed with confusion. How was that possible? The stabbing in his stomach had felt so real...
Then he noticed it: a sensation stronger than any wound.The cold.
An icy chill seeped into his bones, making him shiver violently. He could no longer stand the weight of the wet uniform clinging to his body. So he grabbed both sides of the garment and, with a sharp tug backward, tore it off. The motion cost him, his arms felt like lead, but he managed. The soaked jacket fell onto the bed with a dull thud.
The shirt wasn't spared either. Not as drenched as the uniform, but its front was plastered against his skin, soaking him with freezing water. Eilor hooked his fingers into the collar and pulled it forward, peeling it from his chest so it wouldn't bite him further with that cold.
He exhaled slowly, barely tasting a breath of relief, and for the first time since waking, he forced himself to look carefully at the rest of the room.
The chamber was a disaster.
The spear, stuck into the floor at a slanted angle toward the bed, dominated the center like a silent threat. Its coral edges seemed to pulse under the dim light, still wet with salty water dripping into a spreading puddle.
Behind him, the freezing current rushing through the broken window made him shrink back. He turned and saw the splintered circular frame, open to a sea raging with fury. The wind carried bursts of rain, drops striking his skin like icy needles.
The bed he had awoken on was so comfortable it felt almost tragic to have ruined it with his drenched body.
To his right, a long piece of furniture along the wall revealed what seemed like an improvised laboratory. Shelves lined with jars of strange liquids: some tinted a viscous green, others a dark red that looked too much like clotted blood.
There were also sacks stuffed with organic matter—organs, roots, chunks of something he couldn't identify.
Many of those containers lay shattered on the floor, glass scattered everywhere, releasing a sour stench that burned his nose.
The young man frowned, surveying the wreckage."Not from the window… maybe alchemy equipment?" he thought, scanning the stains and fragments strewn about.
His gaze returned to the center of the room, to the embedded spear, then slid back to the ruined furniture."And the alchemist?" he murmured, leaning forward a little, bracing his hands on the bed.
The question hung in the air.
The young man shook his head, as if he could drive away the idea that the alchemist had vanished without a trace. He inhaled deeply, gathered his strength, and tried to stand.
The ship's sway was constant, the creak of the wood accompanying every shift. Even so, when he finally stood upright, he felt a strange stability: his steps didn't stumble as much as they should have.
He frowned."I'm not dizzy?" he thought in surprise.He stayed still, testing his balance, and for an instant he believed his body had regained steadiness.
He took a step forward.
A harsh thud.
The world suddenly spun, and the wood slammed into his face.
"The floor… rose?" he thought in confusion, his breath ragged.He immediately shook his head. "No, impossible… it was me. I collapsed."
He braced on both hands, panting, trying to push himself up. First he bent a leg, planting his foot against the damp wood. The effort was clumsy, slow, every muscle protesting as if filled with lead.
And in the middle of that struggle, something broke the silence.
A putrid smell seeped through the door.An acidic, viscous stench that churned his empty stomach.
Then he heard it:
Footsteps. Drips.A wet dragging, drawing nearer.
Eilor lifted his head with difficulty, turning toward the doorway.And he saw it.
The door opened with a soggy creak, and from the threshold a figure emerged.
It stood upright, human in shape, but every detail betrayed the illusion.
The head was that of a bloated fish, with oversized eyes that moved independently, darting erratically in their glistening sockets.
Scaly skin, a bluish-green, stretched slick and uniform, as though still coated by seawater.
The bare torso lacked all human traits: no sex, no navel, only a mass of taut muscle beneath skin that shone with a slimy glow.
The stench became unbearable. Eilor clenched his teeth, but the acridness climbed up his throat. Nausea turned into an uncontrollable spasm, and he vomited the little left in his stomach, staining the wood beneath him.
He trembled, forehead beaded with cold sweat. Disgust twisted inside him, as much as the rage of being so vulnerable.
"Damn it…" he whispered, trying to pull himself together.
He forced himself to rise, though his legs wavered. He stumbled backward, seeking space, but his body betrayed him. He tripped against the bed and fell onto it, panting. His eyelids weighed heavy, and each cough tore away what little strength he had left.
Meanwhile, the creature advanced. Its gait was clumsy, the reinforced metal floor resounding with every wet step. The soaked body made it slip, yet it still pressed forward—steady, inexorable—closing in on him.
Eilor lowered his head, chest convulsing with coughs. One hand clung to the bed, the other groped blindly across the sheets, desperate for anything to use.
Step. Step.The monster kept coming.
And then, finally, his fingers clenched tightly around something.
The young man gritted his teeth, swallowing bitter saliva. The wet weight of the uniform in his hand was all he had found, but at that moment it felt like his last card.
He let himself fall sideways on the bed, twisting his body to build momentum. With a sharp swing of his right arm, he hurled the garment at the monster.
The uniform sailed through the air, a dark mass spreading before the creature's face, enveloping it and blotting out its sight.
It was a breath, a stolen second.
But the monster didn't falter.It stomped on the metal floor, which groaned under its weight, and with a swipe it seized the spear lodged at the room's center. The weapon yielded as if it had been waiting for it.
Both claws gripped the coral shaft, and without pause it thrust it forward.The uniform was ripped apart instantly, skewered by the spear's tip. The creature surged ahead without slowing, dragging the impaled garment until it crashed into the bed.
The impact shook the whole frame. The uniform was shredded into strips, falling like soaked rags around the spear. With a pull of its claws, the monster tore them aside, its eyes spinning wildly, searching in frenzy.
An erratic twitch to the right. There it saw him: the boy.The young man was no longer on the bed. He had run, staggering, toward the opposite wall, using it for support as he tried to gain distance.
The monster jerked around in a spasm of violence. With a guttural roar, it raised the spear and, without thought, hurled it with all its might.
The boy ran, breath ragged, holding the air in his lungs so as not to inhale the monster's stench. His wet shirt clung partly over his face, filtering the odor faintly, while his fingers stayed spread, tense, building an energy that crackled between them.
The creature locked onto him. Its body twisted in a harsh spasm, and in a single motion it launched the spear. The weapon cut the air with a sharp whine, a lethal line flying straight for the boy.
The young man didn't look away. The tension in his fingers peaked, and with a growl he released the discharge that drowned out all sound in the room.A bolt burst forth in the shape of a "V," splitting into two jagged beams that lit the chamber in a blinding flash.
The clash was inevitable.The spear intercepted one half, veering only slightly off course. Its coral surface blackened at the impact, but it didn't stop: it kept flying, relentless, toward Eilor's chest.
The other bolt continued its path, racing for the monster. But then, the impossible happened.
The spear, already weakened, reached Eilor's fingers. It was about to pierce him when, with a deafening blast, it shattered into dozens of fragments.
The shards flew everywhere, ricocheting off walls, floor, and ceiling. Razor splinters cut across the room like shrapnel. Some burst jars on the shelf, others bounced off the monster's body, leaving only scratches.
A larger shard struck Eilor's leg just below the knee. The blow toppled him to the ground, twisting in pain as he rolled through the puddle.
Before he could scream, he looked up. Another fragment had hit a jar bound with cords on the shelf. The glass shattered, releasing its contents: a gray mandrake, which fell to the floor with its mouth wide open.
The boy barely had time to register the danger when the smaller shards intercepted the other half of the bolt mid-flight.
Each splinter became an improvised emitter, multiplying the discharge into a rain of chaotic lightning.
The room lit up in orange.
The blast was like a grenade.The spear's fragments, turned into energy nodes, discharged lightning in all directions. Each orange spark expanded in erratic trajectories, serpents of light racing through the air at impossible speed.
One bolt struck the fish-monster full on, making it convulse violently, its eyes rolling in their sockets like wild marbles. Another dozen missed and destroyed everything in their path.
A shelf burst into brief flames that began to spread.
The mattress burned in an instant, releasing the stench of scorched fabric.
One bolt tore through the door into the hallway, illuminating the ship as if a storm had erupted inside.
The young man tried to shield himself from the lightning, but he was surrounded by water.A bolt struck the floor in front of him, and though it didn't hit him directly, the puddle beneath him carried the charge.His body arched violently, muscles tightening painfully as the electricity paralyzed him.
The mandrake, freed from its jar, opened its mouth in a scream. The shriek wasn't just sound—it was a psychic blade piercing the boy's mind.His vision filled with white spots, foam spilling from his lips as his numbed muscles gave way entirely.
He collapsed sideways, unconscious, eyes rolled back.
The storm still raged around him, filling the room with pulses of orange and blue. Each discharge was joined by the mandrake's piercing scream, as if both disasters competed to tear apart the sanity of anyone who dared to hear.
Finally, the lightning died down, one burst after another, leaving only the smell of ozone and charred wood.
The last sounds in the room were the mandrake's sustained wail and the steady drip of water through the window.
The young man lay motionless on the floor.
---
The silence didn't last.
The fish-monster's body, scorched black in several spots, shuddered. Its limbs quivered, but with effort it managed to rise. Its movements were slower, each step costly, yet still it pressed on.
Its erratic eyes turned, searching for its prey. They fell upon the boy, sprawled on the floor, unconscious, foam at his lips. A guttural growl rumbled from its throat, a mix of pain and fury.
The monster stepped forward, stumbling yet steady.
Another step.
The metal floor vibrated beneath its wet claws.
And then, something interrupted its advance.
From the doorway emerged a figure—liquid, as if seawater itself had taken human form. Its body was translucent, shifting, edges dissolving and reforming in a hypnotic sway.
The fish-creature reacted instantly, muscles tensing. A low shriek burst from its throat before it lunged.Its claws stretched grotesquely, becoming curved blades like dripping sickles, which it swung in a brutal arc.
But the blue figure didn't take the blow. It collapsed onto the floor like a puddle retreating, then surged upward, leaping toward the ceiling.
The monster raised its gaze, searching above. All it found was a dent in the wood, as if something had struck hard against it. No one there.
Drip. Drip.
The fish lowered its head as thick liquid slid down its legs. At first, it thought it was water. Then a sharp pain tore through its torso.
It looked down—and saw it: a curved blade had pierced straight through. Dark red blood dripped endlessly, pooling on the floor.
The monster tried to turn, but each attempt only tore more pain. A brutal yank ripped a roar from it, the blade tearing free with violence.
It tried again to turn—
Slash.
The world tilted. Its vision toppled sideways. Suddenly, the room spun: the floor, the bed, the mandrake's corpse—all whirling.
A heavy thud.Until at last everything stopped, then faded into infinite black.
[At the same time]A brutal yank ripped a roar from it, the blade tearing free with violence.
The blade didn't stop.In a sweeping, parabolic motion, it came down on the creature's neck.
Slash.
The edge sliced through skin and scales like butter. A swift, clean, diagonal cut. The monster's head tore from its body, flying free, leaving an arc of blood splattering wall and floor.
A wet thump. A roll.The head spun once more across the floor and stopped a few steps from the boy.The rest of the body remained standing for a second, swaying, before collapsing forward.
A solid crash.Another.The corpse lay face down, blood gushing, merging with the puddles already on the floor.
In the midst of it stood him.A tall man, dressed in an immaculate deep-blue coat uniform, with reddish hair. In his right hand he held a curved sword—wide at the tip, narrower at the hilt, its edge still dripping blood in slow intervals.
The stranger stood still for a few seconds, calmly observing the two halves of the corpse, almost bored. Then he turned his wrist, raised the blade, and flicked it downward in one motion. The last drops of blood splattered onto wood and wall.
With an automatic gesture, he drew the scabbard slung at his side and slid the blade inside. The sound of metal locking into place filled the chamber, mingling with rain and crackling fire.
"Disgusting… this thing sticks too much," he muttered with a grimace.Then he swept his gaze across the wrecked room—the shattered furniture, the charred bed, the broken jars."The alchemist's going to be furious," he said, this time with a mocking smile.
His attention lingered on the unconscious youth.The boy still lay sprawled, eyes rolled back, foam at his lips. The man regarded him first with puzzlement, then doubt.
As if unsure what to do, he nudged him with the tip of his boot. Once. Twice. Three times. Until the boy rolled slightly, lying on his back.
At the sight, he raised a brow."Mandrake?" he whispered, leaning closer.
The man bent over him, studying the foam at the corners of his lips. Clicking his tongue, he scanned the room, searching for confirmation of his suspicion.
Seeing the shelf aflame, he raised his left hand.The raindrops streaming into the chamber shifted course, swirling into his palm until they formed a sphere of water.
Splash…He flicked his hand toward the shelf, and the sphere burst into a wall of water that engulfed the flames.
It didn't take long to find what he was looking for: in a corner, half hidden among shards of glass and scorched remains, lay a charred mandrake. Its roots broken, its vegetal skin blackened by electricity.
"Ah, of course…" he murmured, raising a brow.He turned toward the unconscious boy, tilting his head."So that lightning in the hallway… was yours, kid? And here I thought the monster was an electric variant."
He touched his neck, smiling with irony."Good thing. Would've been a pain fighting something that uses electricity, with everything soaked."
His other hand had already drawn his sword again. With a smooth, almost careless motion, he spun it and hurled it toward the wall where the mandrake rested.
Cut.The blade pierced the plant creature in an instant, slicing it into two halves that fell lifeless to the floor. The sound was wet, muffled.
"You'll thank me later," he said quietly, without looking at the boy.
Then he crouched, slid an arm beneath the limp body, and lifted him in one motion, slinging him over his shoulder. The weight seemed no inconvenience to him.
With the youth still draped on his shoulder, the man bent before the mandrake's remains. He opened the leather pouch at his waist, tugging at its rim with his thumb until it stretched wider than it should.
"First, the material," he murmured.
Calmly, he picked up the lower half of the mandrake and dropped it inside, then did the same with the upper. He tightened the cords with a sharp tug until the knot sealed tightly.
Then he set the boy briefly against the bed, grasped his sword's hilt, and pulled to free it from the wall.At first it resisted, wedged between wood and metal. He frowned, leveraged it, and finally ripped it free, breaking a piece of furniture with the motion.
The fragment of wood shot off, thudding onto the floor—followed by a wet slap.
At that moment, lightning lit the room from outside.The flash carved out the silhouette of a monstrous figure in the doorway.
Another fish-man. Its dull eyes blinked in separate directions, its wet skin gleamed in the storm's light, and its claws dripped water into puddles spreading slowly across the metallic floor.
The man sighed, sword still in hand."Seriously?" he clicked his tongue in annoyance."Seems there are more than I thought."
He shifted into a half-profile stance, gripping the weapon firmly in his right hand, as the creature loosed a guttural snarl and leaned forward, ready to pounce.