The night storm passed, and the morning light decorated the sea with gold leaf.
The sky was dyed in a pure blue, as if it were a canopy painted by the brush of God.
The sea surface was calm, as if infinite blue tatami mats had been laid out in silence.
The Indus vessel cut through the gentle waves, as though it had forgotten the frenzy of last night.
Having finished the repair work and taken a nap in another room, Darmaine violently flung open the door to his chamber, spilling out irritation as though he carried within him the after-echo of the storm.
"Endi is dead."
The very instant he entered his chamber, Darmaine spat out the words toward Lamia.
Lamia, who had sunk into the sofa with her head lowered, raised her face as though struck by lightning at those words, and glared sharply at Darmaine.
"That's a lie."
"With wounds that deep, being thrown into the sea amidst that great storm? There's no way he survived."
"Endi can't die! He promised me he'd save me!"
Lamia's voice trembled, and tears wet its edge.
Yet her words were tangled with a thread of hope.
Darmaine bit on a cigarette, narrowing his eyes as if appraising her.
"Hey, that brat—he's the same kind of 'special one' as you, isn't he? What's your relation?"
"… I don't know. I only met him yesterday. Probably…"
"Probably? Well, whatever. He's dead anyway. More importantly—look outside."
At his urging, Lamia walked toward the window and peered out.
In the distance, a gigantic slab of rock floated on the sea, towering like a gravestone hurled away by some ancient giant.
Its form was overwhelming, like a wall dividing heaven and earth.
"We've arrived. This is our stronghold—'Mildonia.'"
Darmaine's smile was eerie, like a beast baring its fangs.
The smoke from his cigarette shrouded his face, evoking the mask of a demon.
Lamia's expression changed entirely.
The trace of a frightened girl vanished, and instead her eyes shone with the strength of a warrior who had accepted her fate.
Her heart, like a ship that had crossed a storm, wavered yet solidified its resolve to sail forward.
As the Indus vessel drew near the colossal rock, the mouth of a vast cave opened upon its surface.
It was dark, bearing a silence so ominous it resembled a gate to the underworld.
The Indus vessel was slowly swallowed by that darkness, and the crew, tense, held their breath.
The cave walls released a damp, cold air, like stone monuments carved with ancient spells.
All held their breath, and only the creaking of the ship echoed.
When the vessel passed through, light filled their vision.
But the sight that awaited them was far from hopeful.
Twenty black ships, resembling the Indus vessel, corroded and rusted away, lay anchored—as though they were a horde of forgotten ghosts.
No, to say they were discarded would be more fitting.
Lamia understood at once.
Surely, all of these were derelict hulks, and the only one still moving was the vessel they rode now.
The silence of this sea graveyard cast a cold shadow over her heart.
They dropped anchor, and the group disembarked.
Darmaine, without hiding his irritation, spat out his words.
"Che. Not even a welcoming party? Whatever. Let's go, boys!!"
"Yes, Admiral!"
Darmaine and Lamia led at the front, and twenty soldiers followed in two ranks.
It was like the march of an army heading toward battle.
They passed the shoreline and entered a narrow path.
The rocky way was slippery, and each stumble raised up dust.
Lamia's steps were heavy, yet her eyes remained fixed forward.
When they emerged from the path, the view spread open.
It was a barren wasteland where dust swirled.
The withered, cracked earth was like a land of wild spirits abandoned by the gods.
And at its center, a gigantic white cylindrical tower rose.
Its form was like a spear of white bone piercing the heavens.
"Every time I come here… what a dreary place."
Darmaine's mutter was low, venomous like a snake spitting poison, filled with gloom.
Lamia gazed at his face in wonder.
The group advanced toward the giant tower.
The blowing dust quickly erased their footprints, as if this wasteland itself rejected their very existence.
The scene shifts, to a nameless solitary island, several dozen kilometers away from Mildonia.
The morning sunlight shone upon the shore, the whispers of waves echoing gently.
Yet staining that peaceful scene, seven dolphins lay stranded.
Six had already perished, and one remained, wounded, struggling to breathe as it fought to live.
Its form was like the final flame of life, flickering in the wind.
A blond-haired boy slowly walked along the shore, approaching the dying dolphin.
His eyes were cold as ice, and yet carried a shadow of sorrow.
"I'm sorry. I cannot save you."
The blond boy's voice was like a prayer resounding from the bottom of the sea. He stopped, looking down upon the dying dolphin.
"You look happier dying than living."
Contrary to his words, his eyes twitched for an instant, as if rejecting tears—as if casting a spell upon himself.
Suddenly, to his right, among the dolphin corpses, lay the figure of a human.
The blond boy was astonished.
For never before had a human washed ashore upon this lonely island.
Caught between curiosity and caution, he approached the man lying face-up.
The instant he saw the face, the blond boy's heart froze. Fear and cold sweat seized him.
"This is… Endi…?"
His voice trembled, his face pale as though he had seen a ghost.
Endi's face, swaying between life and death, was like a soul tested by the sea god himself.