Chapter 431
Chapter 431
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Translator: Vine
Chapter: 431
Chapter Title: Offroad (5)
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****
“Whoa, it’s the sea.”
The sea.
What comes to mind when you think of the sea?
For people before the Leylines twisted, it would be endless expanses of blue waves, crashing surf, the salty tang of ocean air, and the bustle of harbors.
“Ughhh, it’s the sea.”
“Ptoo! Damn corpse-rotted water. Close the window! I don’t even want to look at it!”
But anyone who’s seen the sea after the Leylines twisted can forget all those nostalgic memories, guaranteed.
It’s blue, sure, but streaked with unnatural green waves that seem alive.
Carnivorous moss surges in, staining the water blood-red, and stepping barefoot into the shallows will strip your skin off in seconds.
The ocean life is vicious beyond words, and the waves—even the smallest ones—tower three times a person’s height, relentlessly pounding the shattered continents.
And this place? It cradles the wildest, most savage stretch of all: the Deep Blue Line.
“...What, is there a war going on?”
“This is daily life in a port city, young friend.”
The walls, scarred with bites from moss, seaweed, and countless sea creatures, stood like battle-hardened veterans, holding back the endless assault of waves and beasts.
“City folk pine for the blue seas of old tales. Hey, goblin buddy! You’ve wandered plenty, right? First time seeing the ocean?”
“Ah, yeah. Caught glimpses from afar a few times... but crossing it up close? First time. Probably?”
“Too bad for you. You’re in for the most hellish experience of your life soon.”
“Or it’ll end your life right there. Heh heh heh!”
The engineers, Mitch and Pelzelton, who’d given me a ride at Kaibuen’s request, exchanged knowing smirks and chuckled.
“Well, everyone’s got their own path, can’t stop ya. But at least ride something decent. Aura Knight, right?”
“Yeah. For now, anyway.”
“That helps. Sea’s so rough, passengers often end up grabbing harpoons and spears. Shitty crews treat strong passengers well—they’re useful. Gets you a better ship on the same terms.”
“Ahh~”
“If you haven’t booked yet, lemme know. I dabble in smuggling, know plenty of captains. Aura Knight? No sweat on my rep—I’ll hook you up.”
“Hahaha, appreciate it, but I got my ticket from that goblin pal Kaibuen.”
“Tch! Damn goblins always got everything.”
“There goes the bonus.”
The engineers visibly regretted missing out on referring an Aura Knight passenger for a kickback.
‘Standard stuff.’
Getting mad at that would make you a lousy drifter. In a world where travel’s restricted, groups are closed-off, selfish, self-centered.
To them, outsiders are perfect marks to fleece. Locals stick together trouble-free since leaving’s tough, but outsiders? Fair game—they’re gone anyway.
Magic trains are closed groups too. Boarding their recommended ship would’ve meant slaving as an Aura Knight till I washed up salted in Lordric—or stripped bare and dumped in the sea.
The scammers seemed less bummed about failing and more like, “Eh, gotta let ‘em go after that try.”
A rite of passage for greenhorns. Cute cons and hustles everywhere.
If you fall for it, blame your soft skills for wandering rough lands.
“Here’s my ticket, see? I’ve got my ride sorted, so let’s part on good terms, yeah?”
Better than raging—show you’re prepared. Sometimes earns you ‘useful guy’ status and connections.
They’re eyeing my ticket for personal gain too. Famous Aura Knight boosts a ship’s rep. They’d sell the info or squeeze side cash from rivals.
“Pffft!”
“Cough, cough, hack!”
But as they inspected it, their eyes bulged like saucers in horror.
“What? Problem?”
“Y-yeah... big problem. Who’d you buy this from?”
“Kaibuen, goblin workshop owner. You dropped smuggling goods there two days back.”
“Pah, ptoo!”
“That’s why I don’t trust short folk! Sold this for 30 million? Argh, con artist bastard!”
“Young friend, that... Pathfinder? Anyway, listen serious: dump this ticket in the port somehow and get another ship. No joke—I’ll hook you up proper!”
“...What’s the issue?”
I glanced at them while pretending to check the ticket. This time, their faces screamed genuine concern.
How to describe it?
‘Not really worrying about me... more like instinctively grabbing someone diving into a shithole?’
Whatever it was, they looked like they’d seen something awful.
Mitch and Pelzelton handled my ticket like a scroll laced with black magic.
“That’s a salvage ship ticket!”
“Salvage ship?”
“Yeah! The boat for the craziest of the sea’s lunatics and total bottom-feeders! Deep Blue Line salvage ship!”
“It crosses the sea, sure, but picks the riskiest routes! And it doesn’t just go straight—stops constantly! Dumps people into that mad ocean! No sane person rides it! If you bought that to cross... you got screwed! By that goblin!”
“Ahh~ salvage ship?”
I nodded along as they flailed and explained.
Come to think of it, Kaibuen called it fare including an ‘intro fee.’ So that’s the story.
“Perfect.”
“H-hey, you hear us? It’s not just a ship—”
“Exactly—I’ve got business under that sea. Hit the jackpot.”
“...So the guy hitting the sea for the first time starts with a dive?”
“Looks clean-cut, but brain’s scrambled. Totally nuts.”
The engineers alternated glances at my grinning face, the ticket, and the sea exploding against the breakwater beside the train. They shook their heads with sighs and turned away.
“Was fun while short, kid.”
“Sea claims another one.”
“Shame.”
『Toot-!』
Short whistle as the train halted.
Clunk-
Boom!
Gates creaked open after brief signals, revealing the steam-choked port city.
“Thanks for the ride! Catch ya later!”
“Hell no.”
“We’d have to sink to the seabed to see you again.”
The engineers, including those two, treated me like a corpse already. Oh well.
“Fate doesn’t always end sweet.”
As the train rolled into the station, I slipped out through shadowed gaps.
Not a paying passenger this time—no station access.
“Lemme see. Salvage ship, Whale... this way?”
Lingering risks trouble, so I headed to the Whale’s dock per the ticket’s back.
Fish stalls, streets, carts, people—everything slick and fishy in Semairen.
“Water’s comingggg-!”
Splashhhh-
Splat!
“...Waves reach inside the city?”
Locals in shorts and waterproof boots; me, soaked to the ankles.
“Port city Semairen, huh...”
Illegal entry or not, the novelty thrilled.
Hiking wet pant legs, I waded stone streets as seawater receded like ebb tide, buzzing with new-world excitement.
****
Port city Semairen.
Unique in every way.
“Hey, outsider! Don’t cross there!”
“...Me?”
“Yeah, you! Long pants! Who else looks out of place?”
Busy, rough, noisy folk.
Ears rang after less than an hour, though pounding waves like cannon fire on the walls didn’t help. Main culprit: locals bellowing like foghorns to cut through it.
Splashhhh-
“Water’s in~”
“Anyone not out with their dinghies yet, load up quick! Next breakwater opens in three hours! Fish’ll spoil by then!”
Water flooding the city was a big feature.
Other cities like Wigen piped water desperately, but Semairen’s was different.
“Long pants! Outta the waterway! Don’t care if outsiders get swept— but flip a dinghy, who pays? Scram!”
“Dinghy?”
Splashhhh-!
Mystery solved as water rose fast.
‘Seawater.’
It rushed from the coast at speed.
Knee-high boards blocked building doors as waves filled streets swiftly.
-Bob.
Dinghy sizes varied, launched by locals, skimming the flood through town.
Small for people, but perfect for a crate or two.
“Whoa.”
“Cool, right? No porters needed in Semairen—waves do it!”
“So those dinghies...?”
“Every three hours, they crack coast gates. Waves carry ‘em around town. Spot the tag at your pickup, snag it. Goods move without lifting—no heavy loads, ride if needed.”
“Handy.”
‘That’s why everyone wears shorts. Knee-deep floods every three hours.’
Hence ‘long pants’ for outsiders, barnacles everywhere.
Waves scour evenly, then drain. Impossible without dwarf engineering. Construction costs multiples of normal cities? Worth it.
“...If flooding’s just for convenience, isn’t it more hassle? Porters handle goods. And thieves could snag floating stuff.”
“Steal a dinghy? Ha! More outsider talk. Port city, dummy. Tons of cargo flows in—porters’d bankrupt you.”
“Hm.”
“Ports haul priciest stuff: stuff worth continent-crossing fares. Artisan magitech, rare luxuries, gems, shards.”
“...Shards?”
“Yeah, nobles go nuts for ‘em. Cargo like that means theft penalties beyond imagination.”
“Decent security?”
“Violators? Sea food. No joke. Stand in the flow earlier, hit a dinghy? Five years hard labor min. Shackled on man-eating trawlers.”
Couldn’t skip the potbellied vendor’s grilled fish after that intel—and saving a hassle.
-Chomp!
Taste? Insane for store-bought, aside from mushroom usuals.
“Blech.”
“Heh heh. Chewy? Deep Blue fish are tough. Slit fine, spice heavy, slow grill.”
Squeeeze-
“Then why sell it like thisss?”
“Stuff it in, powers you same. We picky? Full belly’s food.”
“Urgh.”
“Anyway, flooding’s not just transport. Filters carnivorous moss at gates, treats it. By drain time, killer Deep Blue water’s just brine. Distill for drinking, washing, sell it. Raw sea’s too nasty even for pros.”
Chew chew-
“Sniff, y-yeah. Dangerous sea. Got it.”
Ports essential, but skin-melting sea demands such precision.
“Fun place.”
First city this wild after so many.
Chomp chomp-
Food’s funky aroma kinda grew on me.
Splashhhh-
Easy navigation for outsiders like me.
“Sure said dinghies circle for transport?”
Most head to docks for loading/unloading.
Wading ankle-deep (hiked legs stung), following flow led straight to harbor.
Boom!
Booom!
“Ugh-”
Massive harbor inside breakwater, waves shaking the body.
“Ah, there it is.”
Whale sat farthest corner, shunned by others, isolated.
Designated berth with named dock and shack.
Knock knock-
“Anyone home~?”
“...”
[Ocean’s Mystery, Whale] sign. Door stayed silent.
‘Voices inside?’
Six men. Heavy breaths, big builds.
Knock knock-
“Hello~”
Knock knock knock-
“Hey~”
Knock knock rattle bang bang bang-!
“No one hom—”
Bam!
“Who the fuck! Don’t know what sailors do this hour?!”
“—huh...?”
As sturdy door’s hinges wobbled, a furious man kicked it open.
Before his half-cocked fist flew, I flashed my prepped ticket.
“Came referred! Heading old Lordric, diving Deep Blue en route. This the place?”
...Flutter.
“Referred?”
Bearded brute eyed inside.
Candles, soaked scripture. Familiar temple incense, red-eyed men.
“Came referred... to crew a salvage ship?”
...Click!
Couldn’t answer easy.
That scene inside? Provisional funeral, by my lights.
[Dave. Week 1 aboard. May you fare better down there.]
[Deshin Batur. Week 2. Better down there.]
[Eva. Week 12. Better down there.]
[Cory]
[Menders]
[Egil]
.
.
.
Joint rite. Most sunk within a month aboard.
“...Dunno your deal, but don’t wanna die? Scram. I’ll kill whoever referred you.”
He ordered me out, slamming the door on my stunned face.
Thud!
Or tried.
“Hahaha. Perfect.”
“...Deaf?”
“Orphanage priest kid—used to rites. Read the eulogy? Denomination cool?”
Now they stared stunned.
“...Ha! Hahaha! Another headcase showed!”
“Heh heh, lil’ me.”
Clunk!
“Die that bad? Come in. Warned ya once—sea won’t blame me!”
He scanned me, boomed laughter, swung door wide.
Sniiiif-
Haaa.
“Hmm. Trip’ll be fun!”
Amid funeral, clustered brutes’ glares, sour sweat-fish stench hit full. Thought:
This’ll suck too, damn it.
‘First, infiltrate.’
Nodding casual, I wedged in, snatched damp scripture from podium, opened solemn.
“Ehem, the Radiant One spake—”
Day 1, trawler life.
To salvage crew, I’m the priest dying novel ways.
****