A Better Tomorrow (5)
I had decided to join this dawn departure as well. We had scoured the land thoroughly enough, and to be honest, the odds of the cause lying in the sea rather than on shore felt far higher.
More than anything, this time we had to reach the place where the dragon had been sighted.
Whether the sea would permit it remained unknown, yet since none of us could guess what might unfold upon arrival, bringing extra hands capable of fighting back was the only sensible choice.
Dev, of course, stayed behind in the village to the bitter end—his combat strength was on the weaker side, and he claimed to despise water with every fiber of his being.
“Preparations still aren’t finished…….”
It seemed I had risen far too early.
Stepping out of the house the villagers had provided—they had emptied the entire place so their benefactors could rest in comfort—I made my way to the beach and promptly ran into the residents. They were already hard at work preparing to set sail.
“Ah, there’s still some time left before we depart.”
One of them stepped forward as spokesman. His face was painted with a mix of fluster and fear.
The other three treated me with ease, yet this one alone seemed terrified of me. The concept was landing beautifully—and the realization left me feeling both pleased and a little bitter.
“Even if we launch early, the waves are too unruly…….”
I hadn’t meant to rush them at all. Somehow I had ended up pressuring them with my mere presence.
“No need to concern yourselves.”
Lingering here would only make both sides uncomfortable. I had come out for a stroll in the first place, so I simply turned away and began walking the beach instead.
I wandered across the sand, half-hoping I might stumble across one more pearl. The shameless greed behind the thought was purely incidental.
Ssshhh.
The sound of the waves reached me, yet the darkness kept anything useful from my eyes. Even when I looked seaward, the moon lay hidden behind clouds, erasing the boundary between sky and water.
I considered lighting a lantern, then abandoned the idea. The quiet solitude suited me rather well.
My night vision was sharp enough to look after myself anyway.
“Hic… huuuh…….”
Walking farther along the shore in that manner, I soon caught the sound of someone weeping.
My detection skill remained silent, so it was neither demon nor monster. Eyes already adjusted to the dark, I quickly tracked the voice.
At the edge of the beach, nestled among the tidal rocks, I spotted a small head. The size was far too compact for an adult—clearly a child’s. The youthful pitch of the sobs only reinforced the guess.
“Mamaaa…….”
Yet the grief laced through those tears was far too profound for a child.
I started to reverse course as quietly as I could, hoping the child would never notice me.
Crunch.
Of all places, a shellfish disguised as a rock had to be sitting right there.
“……?!”
The sound should have been buried under the crash of waves and the raw sobbing—yet the child heard it anyway.
The little one swallowed even their breath, desperately trying to hide the tears. Seeing that, I deliberately made my footsteps loud and obvious.
It was a signal: I am here, but I have not found you yet.
Good. I’ll just walk past the child’s hiding place and keep going. If they hate being seen crying, they can slip back to the village while I’m looking the other way.
Luck, however, had other plans. The moment I passed directly in front of the child—still a fair distance away—the clouds veiling the moon drifted aside.
A silver road unfurled across the sea, lending faint outlines to my head, my cheeks, my arms and legs.
Flutter.
The sea wind swelled my hair and the hem of my coat with dramatic flair.
“…….”
The child’s gaze locked onto me with startling intensity. It was so fervent that my cheeks almost itched, yet I refused to look back.
Acknowledging them now would only make things more awkward.
“I heard about you.”
Yet the child spoke first. I had been certain they would stay silent.
“They say you saved the uncles and aunties.”
There was no pretending anymore. I turned my head toward the child.
Moonlight was perfectly impartial; it sketched the child’s outline as clearly as mine. The black clothes, reminiscent of mourning attire, stood out sharply.
“Then why couldn’t you save my mom?”
The tears tracking down the child’s gaunt cheeks caught the light with cruel clarity.
“Why did it have to be my mom who ended up among the dead?”
I closed my mouth, facing a child who—even accounting for the uneven rocks—barely reached my solar plexus.
“Why… why did it have to be my mom…….”
It was not my fault, yet the guilt that pricked my conscience simply because I was human and an adult stabbed deep.
Not the kind of guilt that would drag me into despair, but the sort that felt thoroughly unpleasant to ignore.
It was the feeling of buying the last chicken skewer, eating half of it, only to watch an elementary-schooler dash into the shop, stare at the empty rack, and walk away empty-handed.
“Why…….”
In that other situation I could at least buy the child something else to ease the sting. Here, there was no solution at all.
I almost reached out on reflex toward the child bowed in grief, then forced my hand back down.
Whatever words I offered would never reach them, nor make them feel better. The child was not blaming me out of ignorance in the first place.
They probably already knew it was not my fault. They simply had nowhere else to aim their resentment, so they had barbed their tongue.
And was that truly so wrong?
Even adults, when swept away by a despair too vast to resist, sometimes lash out at the innocent. How much more so a child whose mind had not yet finished growing?
If an adult cannot extend even that much understanding, then that adult is the one who has failed to grow. And while I would never claim to be fully grown, I could at least hold space for this much.
The concept I had chosen was relatively gentle toward the weak—children, the elderly.
Therefore… and so…
I kept silent watch, gazing at the moon that seemed ready to plummet into the sea, and I remained until dawn. Until the sun could offer its warmth.
“You have arrived, Demon Knight.”
“Where have you been? You are a little late.”
I had only come after watching the eastern sky brighten, so of course I was a bit late. Facing people who clearly wanted the reason for my tardiness, I snarled with deliberate ferocity.
“I wonder when those ears of yours will finally do their job.”
At those words the Archmage merely shrugged.
“You are not the sort to be late without cause, are you?”
How long had we even known each other for him to be so certain of that?
Granted, if I saw a character similar to my concept, I would also think, That one would keep time meticulously out of sheer pride… but the opposite was equally possible: arrogance that declared, Time means nothing to me!
Why the certainty?!
“If you prefer not to speak of it, then do not. It is nothing I must know.”
When I kept my mouth primly shut, the Archmage jerked his chin toward the shore.
“Come along now. Everything is ready for departure.”
There the prepared boat waited for us.
“This way, if you please.”
Wow. I had played sailing games a few times, yet never one with a vessel of such ambiguous size. It was exactly the size that came to mind when one pictured a fishing boat.
Even more surprising, it was wooden rather than metal. Wooden boats were common enough in RPGs, but rarely this particular size.
“Have you ever been on a boat before, Demon Knight?”
The Inquisitor, already aboard and seated amidships, asked the question. Her gear was simpler than usual: chainmail with a blue cloth garment layered over it. She had left her shield behind and kept only the mace at her side.
Even chainmail was heavy, but full plate would make climbing back out of the water nearly impossible if she went overboard. That was probably why she had chosen the lighter kit.
“People say first-timers suffer terribly from seasickness. I learned that the hard way myself yesterday.”
Perhaps because Dev had stayed in the village, she was chattering enough for both of them. My concept refused to respond warmly, yet the real me rather enjoyed it.
After all, what else was there to do on a boat? Having someone fill the silence with talk was perfect as far as I was concerned.
“Well, I am sure the Demon Knight will have no trouble!”
I let those idle thoughts drift through my head and paid little attention to the Inquisitor’s words. Never having suffered seasickness in either reality or games had made me overconfident.
I would come to regret that confidence in exactly ten minutes.
“A-are you all right?”
I had ridden carriages with garbage suspension without issue—so why was a single boat doing this to me?
Granted, the swells were fierce enough that the vessel pitched like a carnival ride, but this level of seasickness was ridiculous.
No, what kind of game even implements seasickness in the first place…? Fatigue, drowsiness, and now this? I was going to die of sheer absurdity.
I clamped my lips shut against the rising nausea. My expression held by sheer force of will, but I was certain my complexion had already gone deathly pale.
The moment I slumped against the railing, unable to conquer the sickness, every last scrap of dignity was finished.
“Would you like some medicine for it?”
Despite the violent rocking, the Inquisitor stayed close, fretting and shuffling her feet. At the captain’s signal a sailor hurried down from the mast and offered the same. Conceptually I would rather die than accept, yet honestly I wanted the medicine with every fiber of my being.
I had never known—neither myself nor the character I played—that I was someone who got seasick. I felt like I was dying.
“I understand pride, but take it as a precaution. You know your role, do you not?”
Archmage, your gentle scolding is accepted—for today only.
I glared at him—though whether any real force remained in my eyes was doubtful—then forced my hand out.
A villager hurried into the cabin and returned with some unidentifiable dried herb clutched in his fist.
“Chew it thoroughly and you should feel a bit better.”
The desire to ease the sickness even a little outweighed any question of how one was supposed to chew the stuff.
I shoved the withered, twisted plant into my mouth and crushed it between my teeth.
Whether it was placebo or genuine effect, I felt a tiny fraction better than before. The urge to vomit remained undiminished, however.
“To think you would be the one to get seasick.”
Whether the Archmage looked at me with pity or mild amusement, I ignored him, arms draped over the railing, head bowed low.
Concept be damned—I would rather fight while bleeding out under injury penalties than endure this. Hell was right here on this boat.
“If holy power had any effect on you, I could have helped… I am sorry.”
Kimchi Dumpling apologizing for something that was not her fault at all was none of my concern, yet I desperately wished I could trade a bit of HP to purge the seasickness.
Someone please drop some modern motion-sickness pills into this world before I die.
“Can you still fight?”
I wanted to ask whether I looked capable of anything of the sort, yet I could not break character any further. Gathering the last dregs of my soul, I forced out the words.
“Bring the target before my eyes. I will give you your answer then.”
“Very well. Understood.”
…He had taken that as “I can still kill,” right? Otherwise I was going to feel a little sad.
Still, my head was intact, so I chose to believe character collapse had been averted.
“Please do not push yourself.”
I ignored the Inquisitor’s words and rested my head against the railing. The constant lapping sound no longer registered as white noise—only as the pure source of my irritation.
It was a cruel test of endurance.
“This is the place—where we came yesterday.”
Time did pass, somehow. We managed to catch up to the range the two of them had explored the previous day. Or so the captain claimed, at least.
“Yesterday it seemed to take longer. We arrived early today.”
“The waves are milder at first light.”
The earlier stretch had hardly been gentle, but I had no choice except to believe the captain. Right now the sea was so rough that the boat’s height kept changing by the second.
The arm I had thrust outside the railing—pinned under my armpit—had long since soaked through. Even the hair I had rested against the rail was thoroughly damp from the spray.
“No dragon in sight today.”
“Perhaps because the sun is up.”
The swells remained fierce, yet the sun had risen. That was the difference from when they had come yesterday. Other differences might include the time of day… or the time of day…
Ugh, I had no idea. My brain was spinning so hard that thought itself refused to function. Somehow this felt worse than when my fatigue gauge had hit one hundred.
“Captain, the waves have grown higher. If we go farther, will we still be able to return safely?”
“We will be fine. Yesterday I refused because sunset would have caught us on the way back.”
Nightfall would be dangerous, yet while the sun still shone they could overcome even this storm, the captain insisted, issuing orders to his crew.
The sailors pulled the sheets in perfect unison, somehow coaxing the boat to ride the flow of the waves.
“In that case, Captain, let us try going as far as that. Inquisitor, is that the place where you saw the dragon?”
“Yes. That is the spot. The rock rising above the surface is identical to the one I saw yesterday.”
“There… you say?”
When the Archmage’s pointing finger and the Inquisitor’s confirmation combined, the captain’s expression turned peculiar.
“That is the Dragon’s Cry Gate.”
“Dragon’s Cry Gate?”
“It means the gate where the dragon weeps. From that rock onward the reef begins, and the currents flow in strange patterns because of it.”
Not only were the rapids vicious, but the sound of the waves in that area alone was said to resemble a dragon’s cry—hence the name. The captain added the explanation with a storyteller’s flourish.
“Is it dangerous?”
“Yes. No sailor in his right mind would ever think of entering. It is that dangerous.”
“Then take us as close as you safely can.”
“Aye.”
The captain’s face darkened a shade, yet he never once uttered a refusal. Whether that was a captain’s pride or the inability to say no to his benefactors, I could not tell.
My own luck was already rotten enough.
“This is as far as we go. Any closer and the boat will capsize.”
“You have worked hard. My thanks.”
“Even from here I see nothing unusual…….”
Perhaps because we had drawn near the rapids, the boat seemed to rock even more violently. I clung to the railing like a lifeline, barely holding the nausea at bay.
Under normal circumstances I would have declared the place suspicious and started theorizing about hidden secrets. Right now I had no mental bandwidth left for anything of the sort.
“……?”
Then something caught my eye. A very shallow… strip of land. Visible only when the waves dipped low. It seemed carved with a pattern of scales.
“Urgh.”
I opened my mouth to speak, only for a surge of vomit to force my hand up to clamp over my lips. The Inquisitor, who had been scanning every direction, hurriedly checked my face.
“Are you all right?”
“…That way.”
Fortunately she was close enough. With a cracked voice I pointed.
“That way?”
The Inquisitor followed my finger with her gaze.
“…I am afraid I do not understand what you mean.”
Apparently the strip of land was invisible to her eyes. I had only spotted it by pure chance myself, so it was fair she missed it—yet given how little composure I had left, the failure irritated me for no good reason.
“You cannot see it…….”
I forced my head up to point more clearly.
“……?”
Yet the land I had definitely seen moments earlier no longer lay within my field of vision. Only the snarling sea filled everything.
“Demon Knight?”
…Had the seasickness made me see things? Character was well and truly broken today.
“Nev——”
I started to admit the mistake and trail off. I would have done exactly that if someone had not suddenly pointed a finger toward the place I had indicated—slightly off, perhaps, but close enough.
“Ah—there!”
My gaze shifted naturally a fraction.
Something was swimming up from beneath the water. Three of them, and none of them small.
A hostile entity is present within a 30 m radius.
The system blared noisily.
“Surely not demons……?”
“I sense corruption, yet it is not demon energy!”
Even if they were not demons, the moment corruption registered—and the moment they closed on the boat—we could not simply sit still.
Whether they truly meant us harm was uncertain, yet if they punched a hole in the hull we were the ones who would die.
“They are coming for the boat!”
“I will prepare!”
“You lot—get inside the cabin!”
The Inquisitor seized her weapon while the Archmage herded the civilians into safety.
Thus I forced my body upright as well. Nausea surged immediately, yet remaining down was not an option.
“Hah.”
This damned boat still rolled like mad. Swallowing curses, I propped myself against the gunwale and raised my sword.
Keeping balance was anything but easy, yet I clenched my teeth, seized control of my reeling mind, and somehow managed it.
“O God, watch over Your lambs!”
The Inquisitor deployed the spherical barrier she had once demonstrated.
Thud! Thud!
The creatures that failed to reach the boat by a hair’s breadth slammed their bodies against the shield in clear rage.
Submerged as they were, they were hard to make out clearly, yet they looked roughly like water lizards—four legs, long tails.
Their bodies glided through the water, occasionally brushing past one another as they circled the vessel, clearly intent on it.
Whatever monster they were, the system showed no sign of offering a name.
“With thunder, strike down my foes……”
The Archmage began chanting a spell. They looked like targets that needed elimination, so he was clearly preparing an attack.
The Inquisitor, barrier aside, was a melee fighter and could not even attempt a strike from here.
Me? I tried to swing my sword and fire a Chamgyeok, only to lose to the dizziness. For a moment I dropped to one knee, blade planted against the deck.
I was going to throw up.
“Fall upon them……!”
While I clawed my way out of that groggy state, a rather wide-area lightning spell poured down.
A portion of the deep-blue seawater seemed to flare bright for an instant, and the things circling the boat floated up to the surface.
They had only been shocked, not killed; their bodies still twitched as they struggled to awaken.
The Archmage would need time before his next strike.
“Hah…….”
Then from here on, this was my domain.
I planted my feet, chewed my lip raw, and finally managed to swing the sword. A strike laden with wrath flew outward with a metallic shriek, its output far stronger than usual.
Shhhk!
A section of the sea parted for an instant.