Sea of Despair
The Sea of Despair. We barely managed to save the treasure, the crew, and the ship itself. But we lost our comrade Riko to kidnapping and fled like cowards. With no time to even check our position on the map, we pushed the wrecked ship onward using the Triton of the Sea, sleeping not a wink, until we reached some unknown coastline. We anchored at the island, and right after Circe cast a magical barrier to hide the ship, I lost consciousness and collapsed.
Radamu didn't wake until a full four days later.
"Can you move?"
At the news that my eyes were open, Mortis hurried over and asked. I tried to sit up, only to grimace at the wave of pain. My arms and legs didn't feel like they belonged to me. I glanced at the Triton of the Sea leaning against the wall and bowed my head.
As expected of a divine artifact bestowed by the gods, it wielded terrifying power—enough to cleave the sea in half and create walls of water that defied gravity. It was an object that commanded the ocean itself. But my body couldn't handle wielding it. The moment I swung it, chunks of my power were ripped away. It wasn't a lack of near-infinite divine energy; the problem was that my body couldn't contain the sudden drain. There simply weren't enough outlets for the divine power surging out, so it burst forth forcibly, overwhelming my flesh.
How do I even counter this backlash? My heart still throbbed with phantom pain, as if it might explode even now.
"What's our situation like right now?"
"The worst."
Thanks to the medicines Riko had prepared, treating the wounded wasn't an issue. The island was a barren rock with nothing worth taking, so we were scraping by on our stockpiled supplies. The captain had regained consciousness but was paying the price for overexerting his battered body—he could barely get out of bed, let alone walk. Kid could walk, but Mortis said he was a headache: furious about being mocked in comparison to his grandfather, he was swinging his broken harpoon around, reopening his wounds in the process.
"......"
Now that I was awake, our water and food problems were essentially solved. First things first, I used my Forest skill to grow plants in my room, loading them with all sorts of fruits. The plants in Riko's room had all died since I couldn't tend them. The crew came in to harvest the fruits, fashioned meat from the leaves, and stacked them into towers. I summoned massive batches of fried chicken into large baskets. With an ethanol faucet conjured up, the crew filled bottles and bustled about, replenishing our shortages in half a day until we could finally hold out.
"The engine's completely dead. We have spare sails, though."
The engine had flooded when the ship capsized, beyond what the technicians could fix. Even the spare parts had gotten soaked and rusted during our escape, so they tearfully had to scrap it.
"Not using your Shapeshifter skill right there was the right call. If your identity got out, it'd be a bigger problem."
".....Was it really the right judgment?"
"Yes. Even the Triton of the Sea you swung—that divine artifact—couldn't scratch Hornigold. Transforming wouldn't have changed much. It's not a problem solved by 'strength.' Better to keep it hidden when we can't even identify the enemy."
But if we hadn't, our comrades would have been slaughtered and the treasure stolen? If we'd fought at full power from the start, maybe the outcome would've been different. Mortis nodded at my regret, admitting it wasn't wrong. But she warned that rumors spreading afterward would draw an even bigger storm—one too massive to handle. Even if it meant resenting her, she begged me not to torment myself.
She was right. If the world learned Radamu Dice was a hero, extremists out to kill heroes would emerge from the shadows. Defending blindly without knowing the foe is tough without overwhelming power.
"....I have one question about possessing the Triton of the Sea."
I don't think we've kept it hidden this whole time, she said, quietly slipping in after the others left and glancing at Circe, who sat in a chair. We'd been told she was a were-kin, but after seeing her unleash massive magic on the island... Mortis had covered for the crew, calling her a mage. The sailors, used to Riko's formal speech, bought it. Mortis looked down at me with a mix of hope and doubt.
"Her true identity... is the legendary sea witch Circe, isn't it?"
"Yes."
"We can only pray Hornigold doesn't find out."
Mortis, who'd been his comrade for ten years at sea, frowned. To Hornigold, the ocean was his entire life, and Circe—the sea witch—was something he'd obsessively sought his whole life, even more blindly than the Triton of the Sea. He'd go to any lengths to claim her.
"He scoured ruins of fallen kingdoms for traces of her, learned their language, delved into runes he couldn't even use. In the end, he betrayed his comrades, stole the crown, and fled alone into the sea. He's that extreme."
"Then Riko's safety...?"
"He was obsessed with finding the witch. He spotted right away that the defensive spell protecting you wasn't ordinary magic. And he clocked Riko the moment he saw her—he's a madman who's wasted his life chasing Circe. By now... he's probably treating her like a VIP, showing her his research, his logs, to verify it all."
"........"
"He was a good man, despite his quirks. His betrayal is that hard to accept."
Was he acting until the end, deceiving us all? Or was that his true heart? Mortis, with sad eyes, plopped her head into a bowl of liquor as she straddled the chair. She poured booze over it; her head in the dish gulped it down, emptying a bottle in seconds.
"Radamu, don't hold regrets too close. Painful memories last a lifetime... but lingering on them can turn into fond recollections or life lessons."
I fell silent before the words of a dullahan who'd lived over a century. No one can bear everything against the massive forces targeting a little hero. Even heroes—symbols of miracles and courage—are ultimately human. Humans err in choices, regret, disappoint, and self-blame. Past heroes faltered countless times too, she said, her flushed face showing the alcohol's effect as she urged me to cheer up.
"Rest for now. We'll talk more tomorrow. Our current foes... The Imperial Navy's chasing us to retrieve the prince—they're tentatively allies. But a being with strong divine power... If they learn you're a hero, they'll obsess, try to recruit you. If not, threats, blackmail, even brainwashing. Elves are another story. If they find out you're a druid, the Great Forest's Overlords might come to revive the World Tree. And Hornigold... He won't give us a chance to flee the sea; he'll hunt us relentlessly."
We were the pursued by every foe we'd hoped to avoid. The elves didn't know we existed; the Empire was neutral at best. With our battered galleon, we couldn't face the rest. Mortis guessed Hornigold's single ship attack was pure chance—a random raid on what he thought was a passing vessel.
"Even I didn't expect him cruising underwater. Probably scouting the Kraken, the Holy Eagle Kingdom, or investigating the Spirit of the Winds. He rammed us by accident. If he'd known we were aboard, he'd have sunk us first, then questioned survivors."
Ironic—we survived because he flipped the ship for loot, letting our barely afloat galleon shove him off and escape.
"What now? Seek the Divine Battlesuit? Join the Empire?"
".....What about returning to the Pantheon of All Gods?"
"The Pirate King ruling these seas won't allow it."
No real choices left. We couldn't set foot on land without settling things with the Pirate King. Mortis said she'd hear my answer tomorrow, cradling her liquor-soaked head as she staggered out. She was feigning calm, but the captain's state and the Hornigold encounter had worn her down. She'd hidden it with drink... but she usually avoided alcohol, so it was obvious.
"Circe, I'm sorry. I let Riko get kidnapped."
"ᛁ'ᛗ ᚠᛁᚾᛖ, ᛋᛟ ᛏᚨᚴᛖ ᚲᚨᚱᛖ ᛟᚠ ᚤᛟᚢᚱ ᚺᛖᚨᛚᛏᚺ."
I'm fine; take care of your health, Circe said, handing me medicine. No matter the distance, she could sense a fellow witch's life—she assured me Riko was unharmed. It'd be great if I could transform into Levitfoot for communication, but neither Riko nor I knew the spell.
"....Kid and I both swung our weapons... Why didn't they connect?"
Not even the Triton of the Sea reached the Pirate King. A "killing blow," yet it missed. Rubbing her chin thoughtfully, she mentioned Hornigold's Crown of the Sea God. Like the Triton, it recognized its bearer as king of the seas—but without divine power or selection, it had cursed him instead.
"A curse?"
"【Final Destination】."
Circe referenced an old movie I'd seen—brutal, where death's omens inevitably killed you. She called it a curse imposing inevitable doom. But ironically, as a divine curse, nothing else could kill him outside that "fate." No aging, no disease, no other cause.
"Is that really a curse?"
One of the crown's powers: a boon for worthy bearers, granting immortality rivaling gods. Unqualified, it tested him with curse-like fate—evaluating kingly worth.
Then the Triton of the Sea...? "ᛁᛏ ᛞᛟᛖᛋᚾ'ᛏ ᛗᚨᛏᛏᛖᚱ ᛒᛖᚲᚨᚢᛋᛖ ᛁ'ᛗ ᛏᚺᛖ ᛟᚹᚾᛖᚱ." It doesn't matter; I'm the owner, she said. If even Hecate acknowledged it, I nodded agreement. She praised me: wielding it proved I was the hero.
"Then, is there a way to find that destined fate?"
"ᚨᚾᚤᛟᚾᛖ ᚲᚨᚾ ᚴᚾᛟᚹ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛟᛏᚺᛖᚱᛋ ᚲᚨᚾ ᚴᚾᛟᚹ."
Anyone can know, and others can too. Circe looked ambiguous, hard to explain. He'd tricked others into thinking he'd drunk from the fountain of youth—and he didn't age, so they believed. His fated death was simple for anyone to grasp. Yet not so simple, meaningless without discovery.
"ᚨᚾᚤᛟᚾᛖ ᚲᚨᚾ ᚴᚾᛟᚹ ᚨᚾᛞ ᛟᛏᚺᛖᚱᛋ ᚲᚨᚾ ᚴᚾᛟᚹ."
Death would come inevitably; trying to kill him would reveal it. Pointing at me, she prophesied: a fate-guided hero would inevitably learn it.
"....I see."
──Can I kill Hornigold?
Without Circe, I wouldn't have known. Next time was unpredictable. He had his Invincible Fleet; his pirate underlings hadn't even joined. To face the king, I'd breach his soldiers. But even then... I might hesitate.
Hornigold ruled these seas. Holy Eagle Kingdom, Empire, Trust Union... even elves feared challenging him. Tyrant, arrogant, enthroned at the pinnacle. If he maintained the ocean's balance, what of island folk when a void opened?
Resolved to kill him, I sank into anguish again. A balance scale tips inevitably when something's removed—like the tilted scales of the Goddess of Fate's emblem.