Chapter 15: The Belt of Monsters
For two days, the Purgatory sailed on a wave of triumph.
The wind was strong, the sun was bright, and the food was, for the first time in any of their lives, consistently divine.
Vasco had taken to his new role with a manic, perfectionist's glee. Riyon spent his days in a meditative trance at the prow, his Haki spreading out, or "arguing" with Vasco about the structural integrity of a soufflé.
Elara, meanwhile, was the queen of her map room, her eyes sparkling with the thrill of a new, unknown route.
I, in my day form, was the anchor. I was the source of their confidence. My power, a constant, blazing aura, was a silent promise that nothing in this world could harm us.
"We're approaching the edge, Captain!" Elara called out from the helm on the third morning. Her voice was tight, the easy-going excitement gone.
I joined her.
The Purgatory was moving fast, the wind at our backs. But ahead... ahead, the ocean changed. It was like a line had been drawn on the world. The choppy, white-capped waves of the South Blue simply... stopped.
Beyond that line, the sea was a perfect, flat, turquoise mirror. There was no wind. No movement. No... life.
"The Calm Belt," I said, my voice the deep rumble of my day form.
"Aye," Elara nodded, her knuckles white on the helm. "The smuggler's route. It's... just as the charts said. A sea of glass."
SHHHH-voooom...
The moment the Purgatory's prow crossed that invisible line, the sound that had been their constant companion for three days... died.
The wind in the sails vanished. The flapping of the canvas, the creak of the rigging, the whistle of the air—all gone.
The ship glided forward on its own momentum, and then, with a long, slow sigh, it stopped.
Dead.
The silence was the loudest thing I had ever heard. It was thick, oppressive, and unnatural.
"Ugh," Riyon grunted from the deck, his hand instinctively on his sword. "I don't like this. It feels... wrong. The air is too heavy."
"It's not moving," Vasco said, emerging from the galley, wiping his hands. "The wind is gone. Completely." He looked at Elara. "So, little bird? Where are your replacement winds?"
"This is the Calm Belt, Chef," Elara said, her voice a tense whisper. "There are no winds. Ever. It's a dead zone. That's why no one sails it. No wind, no currents."
"Then how...?" Riyon began, looking at the sails. He and Vasco looked at each other, then at the ship's massive, secondary oars. With a shared, masculine grunt, they both grabbed one. "We row," Riyon growled.
They heaved. The ship, a steel-reinforced caravel, didn't budge an inch. They heaved again, their muscles straining.
"It's... not... moving!" Riyon roared in frustration.
"Of course it's not, you brute!" Elara snapped. "This isn't a rowboat! It would take a hundred men to move this ship! We're stuck!"
Vasco threw his oar down in disgust. "Then what? We sit here and starve? I refuse to let my food go bad!"
"You won't have to," I said.
All three of them turned to me.
I walked to the stern of the ship, the sun blazing on my back. I was in my prime.
"You are thinking like normal sailors," I said, my voice booming with Escanor's pride. "You are forgetting who I am."
"Captain?" Elara asked, her eyes wide.
"Elara, take the helm. Point us straight," I commanded.
She scrambled to obey.
I turned my back to the sail. I held my hand up, palm facing the mast.
The Sunshine... it was not just a weapon. It was power. It was energy.
"You need wind?" I asked. "Then I will make it."
I didn't create a Cruel Sun. I didn't create fire. I created heat.
A focused, intense, searing column of superheated air began to pour from my palm. It was not a blast; it was a constant, controlled jet. It was a thermal current. A solar wind.
FWOOOOSH!
The massive sail, which had been limp, suddenly snapped taut. It bellied out, as if struck by a typhoon.
The Purgatory groaned.
And then, with a lurch that nearly knocked Riyon off his feet, the ship moved.
We were moving, carving a clean, white wake in the glass-like sea.
"Hah... Bwa-hahaha!" Riyon let out a short, barking laugh. "He... he's a jet engine!"
"That's... that's one way to do it," Elara breathed, her eyes wide, fighting the helm as the ship picked up speed.
"Magnificent!" Vasco declared, his eyes shining.
"A Captain who is also his own propulsion! What pride! What ingenuity! I must make you a steak!"
For hours, I held the position. It was a drain, but a manageable one. The sun was my battery, and it was full. We sailed through the dead sea, a lone, roaring speck of noise in a world of silence.
"We... we're making good time, Captain," Elara called out, her voice shaky with awe. "At this rate, we'll be across by... by tomorrow morning."
"Good," I boomed.
And then, Riyon spoke.
"Captain... we have company."
He was at the prow, staring into the water.
I couldn't stop my 'propulsion,' so I relied on his eyes. "What is it?"
"Shadows," he said, his voice grim. "Big ones. Big ones."
Elara paled. "We're in their nest. The nesting grounds. This... this is where they're from."
I looked over my shoulder. And I saw them.
Long, serpentine shapes, the size of islands, were moving in the deep. They were dark, monstrous shadows in the clear, turquoise water. Sea Kings. Dozens of them.
They swam with us. They swam under us. A leviathan with a head like a bull and a body a mile long passed directly beneath our hull. I could feel its ancient, primal hunger.
But they did not attack.
"They're... they're not attacking," Elara whispered, her voice trembling. "Why aren't they attacking?"
"My aura," I said, the realization dawning. My Sunshine was so powerful, so absolute, it was a statement. It was the sun, on the ocean. "They are beasts. They respect power. They fear the sun."
The monsters of the deep were afraid of me.
The pride I felt was immense. I was their protector. I was their engine. I was their god.
The day wore on. The tension was unbearable. My arm was burning from the constant output, but I held on. We had to get across.
At 5:00 p.m., Elara's voice was a croak.
"Captain..."
L
"What is it, Navigator?"
"The... the chart was wrong. Or... or I miscalculated. This belt... it's wider than I thought. Much, much wider. We're not... we're not halfway."
My blood ran cold.
"How long?" I asked.
"At this speed... another 18 hours."
I looked at the sun. It was beginning to dip, painting the glass-sea in hues of orange and purple.
"We... we have maybe... one hour of sunlight left," she whispered.
The crew went silent.
Riyon. Vasco. Elara. They all looked at me.
I, their god, their protector.
"I will... I will push us faster," I said, gritting my teeth. I poured more power.
FWOOOOOOSH!
The ship lurched, the mast groaning under the strain. We were flying, but it wasn'-t enough.
The sun touched the horizon.
And like a faucet being turned off, the Sunshine... began to fade.
The jet of heat from my hand sputtered. The sail went limp.
The Purgatory slid to a stop, the silence of the Calm Belt crashing back in, a thousand times more terrifying than before.
"...hah... hah... hah..."
I fell to my knees, my body spasming. The divine power, the Emperor-Level stats, the heat—it all vanished.
15 years old.
Strength: 21.
Stamina: 13.
I was cold.
And I was surrounded by monsters.
For a full minute, there was only silence.
"Luthor...?" Elara whispered.
"I'm... I'm here," I panted, my voice a weak, trembling tenor.
"...hhhrrrRRROOOOOOOO..."
A low, guttural, earth-shaking moan erupted from the deep, so powerful it vibrated through the hull and into our bones.
"It... it's coming from below," Vasco said, his voice low. He had two daggers in his hands.
Riyon was at my side, Nagasone Okisato drawn. "Captain. Get below deck. Now."
"No," I said, forcing myself to my feet. I drew my own, simple cutlass.
"I... I have Haki. I can fight."
"You are a liability!" Riyon roared, for the first time. "Your stats are nothing! Your power is gone! You are the one we protect! Get down!"
WHOMP-BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!
The ocean exploded, 30 feet from the port side.
The head of a Sea King, a monster so vast its head alone dwarfed the Purgatory, rose from the water.
It was green, and scaled, with a beard of thick, black seaweed. Its eyes were the size of carriages, glowing with a primal, yellow light.
It had been waiting.
It had been waiting for the sun to set.
It opened its mouth, a cavern of fangs, and let out a SKREEEEEEE that shook my very bones.
"Elara!" Riyon commanded. He was the First Mate. He was in charge.
"Aye!" she yelled, her new Seastone-tipped rifle in her hands.
"Aim for the eyes! Vasco! You and I... we're the bait! We keep its attention! Distract it!"
"A pleasure!" Vasco grinned, his daggers flashing. "I will be the appetizer!"
The three of them—a swordsman, a cook, a navigator—stood between me, their "god," and the monster.
The Sea King's massive, reptilian eye swiveled. It looked at Riyon. It looked at Vasco. It looked at Elara.
And then... it looked past them.
Right at me.
It had sensed my power all day. It had hated it. And now, it sensed my weakness.
It knew.
The monster's head drew back, its neck coiling like a serpent.
It lunged.
Not at the crew.
At me.
[SYSTEM WARNING: LETHAL THREAT DETECTED.]
[HOST COMBAT POWER: ROOKIE.]
[ENEMY COMBAT POWER: ???]
I raised my cutlass, my Observation Haki screaming at me to run, dodge, move, but my Agility: 22 body was frozen in terror.
This was it.
This was how I died.