Chapter 396:

Daphne

Am I the weird one for being unphased?

I look at a floating head. Its eyes are wide, its mouth frozen open, its expression carved in eternal terror. I kick it until it faces me.

"I’m not weird, am I?"

The head doesn’t respond. Obviously. It’s dead. Frozen in fear of whatever it saw before it died.

[Host. Can you be serious.]

The System lands on my shoulder. Its claws dig into my coat. Its beady eyes glare at me.

"I am being serious." I kick the head again. It bobs away, disappearing into the fog. "I’m asking a legitimate question."

[You are kicking a corpse.]

"It’s a head."

[It was a person.]

"Was." I hop to another piece of wreckage.

The parrot makes a sound that might be a sigh.

[The crew is frightened.]

"Well." I balance on a broken barrel, arms spread. "They call me the Devil. It’s only natural I act devilish."

[...]

[I worry about your mental capacity.]

"Well." I jump to a piece of wreckage—a section of hull, still intact, tipped on its side. I lean against the railing.

"It’s only natural. Being alive as long as I have... it’s only natural I’m going a little crazy."

The parrot tilts its head.

[The host is not going crazy.]

"Am I not?"

The System doesn’t respond.

Figures.

The fog is thicker now. Barely visible—to them, at least. Not a problem for me. My eyes cut through the gray like it’s nothing.

I see something move underneath the water.

A shift. A ripple. A shadow.

I narrow my eyes.

I know I’m not crazy. The water is unnaturally still, the kind of still that comes before something wakes. But there’s a barrel floating nearby. Debris. Wood. Broken things.

They’re moving.

There’s no current. That means something is underneath the water.

Something is swimming. Something is causing the debris to shift, the barrels to turn, the bodies to drift in slow, lazy circles.

So the famed monster is here.

I crouch lower on the floating hull. My hand is on my gun. My heart is steady.

"Go warn them," I say.

The parrot launches off my shoulder. Flies toward the ship,a flash of purple against the gray fog. Its wings beat once. Twice. Disappears.

I turn back to the water.

The shadow moves again.

Larger this time. Darker. Closer.

I can see the shape of it now it’s long and sleek and massive, circling beneath the debris, beneath the bodies, beneath me.

It’s not attacking. Maybe it’s just watching or it likes to play with it’s prey.Tasting the water for my fear.

I don’t give it any.

The hull shifts beneath my feet. A slow tilt, first to the left, then to the right. The wood groans. Water laps at the edges. I adjust my weight, keep my balance, keep my calm.

The shadow pauses.

Directly beneath me.

I look down.

The water is dark,so dark I can’t see more than a few inches below the surface. But I can feel it.

A ripple spreads from beneath the hull.

Then another.

Then another.

The debris around me begins to move—slowly at first, then faster. Barrels spin. Bodies drift. Broken masts turn in lazy circles, caught in a current that doesn’t exist.

The monster is circling.

Toying with me.

I crouch lower. My hand finds my gun. My finger finds the trigger.

The debris stops moving.

The fog presses in, thick and gray and cold.

For a moment, there’s nothing. No sound. No movement. No breath.

Then—

The hull shifts.

Not a tilt. Not a rock. A push. Something beneath me, pressing up from below, lifting the hull, lifting me. The wood groans. Water spills over the edges. I stumble, catch myself, stay upright.

The hull rises higher.

Then it’s lowered.

Seriously. It must be toying with me.

"Shy, are we?"

The shadow circles again, definitely toying with me.

The water shifts. The fog parts. Just for a moment. Just enough.

A tail.

Massive. Pale. Scarred. Easily half the size of The Bunny—maybe larger. It flicks once, sending a wave rippling across the water, spinning debris, splashing against the hull beneath my feet.

Then it’s gone.

I stare at the dark water.

Well.

My gun feels silly now.

I holster it.

The shadow circles. And circles. And circles. I’ve lost track of time—minutes, hours, I don’t know. The fog doesn’t lift. The water doesn’t change. The monster doesn’t surface.

It just... waits.

And I wait with it. Not like I can do anything else given the circumstances.

The hull shifts beneath my feet. A gentle rock, back and forth, like a cradle. The debris spins in slow, lazy circles. The bodies drift past—faces frozen, eyes empty, mouths open in silent screams.

I can’t help but think to myself that this water must be full of all kinds of diseases.Things I don’t want to think about while standing on a broken hull in the middle of a corpse-filled sea.

The shadow circles again.

Closer.

I see something else.

A hand.

Massive. Pale. Clawed.

Water cascades off the fingers, each one tipped with a claw longer than my arm. The skin is scarred, crosshatched with old wounds, pale as a drowned corpse.

The hand curls.

Then it sinks back beneath the surface.

Okay.

I’m getting tired of this game of hide and seek.

"Are you going to come out or what?" I snap.

For a moment, nothing happens.

Then—

Water explodes upward—a geyser of foam and spray and force. The hull beneath me rocks. I grab the edge, hold on, keep my balance.

The creature rises.

It’s massive. Terrifying. A creature from nightmares.

But that’s not why my heart is racing right now.

It’s racing for a different reason.

Not fear.

Relief.

The monster screams. Its jagged teeth wide, its throat open, a sound that tears through the fog, through the water, through my chest. It’s loud. Piercing enough, the water moves from the force of it.

"I’m sorry I’m late," I say.