Chapter Twenty: The End Point — The Uttermost North

The wizard Charlie spoke softly, yet every person aboard the ship heard him with startling clarity. There was an inexplicable power in his voice; as if compelled, everyone ceased what they were doing—even the sea fiends froze where they stood.

Charlie's words drew all eyes to him; every soul on the vessel fixed their gaze upon the sorcerer. He had returned to his usual attire, his voluminous cloak shrouding him entirely. In the pitch-black night, he resembled a silent reaper of souls, calmly watching over them all.

"This ends here," he intoned.

Raising his hand slightly, Charlie unleashed several searing beams of light that pierced through the sea fiends with effortless precision. The stench of scorched flesh quickly filled the ship, and at the sight of the mutilated corpses, many were unable to suppress their nausea.

"Clean this up and return to your quarters," Charlie commanded, sparing only a brief glance at the survivors before turning away.

Hughes surveyed the deck—seventeen people remained, nearly half the crew lost. He understood well enough that the wizards must have foreseen another encounter with the sea fiends. The bloody melee between the students and these monsters had surely been orchestrated by their superiors. Yet what recourse did he have? In the end, his own weakness was to blame.

Gradually, the survivors realized the danger had passed. Many collapsed where they stood, overwhelmed by relief at having escaped death.

A profound silence fell upon the ship; no one spoke, each allowing the torrential rain to beat down upon them.

After a time, they set about clearing the bodies from the deck. Hughes crouched quietly beside one of the sea fiend corpses.

“Chip, scan this sea fiend’s data. Is there anything here that could strengthen me?” Hughes hoped to find something on the creature akin to the coldcrystal fish.

“Beep! High concentrations of toxins detected on the target’s surface.”

“What about their blood?” Hughes pressed, unwilling to give up so easily.

“Beep! Target blood composition is eighty-nine percent similar to human. Insufficient data for further analysis. No absorbable substances found for host.”

“Could these sea fiends have once been human?” Hughes wondered. Disappointed that the scan revealed nothing of use, he joined the others in tossing the bodies overboard.

“Beep! Unknown energy source detected.”

“Hm?” At the chip’s alert, Hughes examined the corpse in his hands—the very sea fiend with the reddened spine he had slain himself.

“Is there something on this one?”

He ran his hands over the body, finding a garment made of seaweed, pungent with the smell of the sea. Finally, his fingers closed around a small, round object, about the size of a human thumb.

“A pearl?” Hughes held up a bead that gleamed pale blue, as if a ripple of water encased its surface.

“Chip, what does this bead do?”

“Beep! Long-term wearing will enhance mental strength. Estimated duration: two hundred and seven days before the bead’s energy is depleted.”

“What a treasure!” Hughes was delighted with the chip’s answer. Even when the energy was spent, the bead itself would be invaluable. Carefully, he tucked it into his pocket and tossed the corpse into the sea.

With everyone’s help, the ship was soon cleared. The relentless rain washed away much of the blood, and the scent of gore faded.

“Do you smell that? There’s still a trace of blood, though it was almost gone just now,” someone remarked.

Hughes sniffed the air; indeed, a faint metallic tang lingered, subtle but ever-present.

“Over here—there are more dead!” someone called from the fourth deck.

“That room looks familiar,” Hughes thought as he watched people gather.

“Boris, let’s have a look.”

“Alright.”

Hughes and Boris climbed to the fourth deck. As they approached the room, a heavy stench of blood assaulted their senses. Inside, two bodies lay sprawled on the floor, their abdomens ripped open, viscera staining the room in a gruesome tableau.

“That—Isn’t that Norman Cohen and his new lackey? How could this have happened…” Boris was stunned at the sight of Norman Cohen’s body, unable to fathom that he would die here, and in such a brutal manner.

Hughes gave the scene only a cursory glance before turning away. He had no connection to Norman Cohen; the man’s fate meant nothing to him.

The rain gradually subsided, the sea once more calm and serene. The ship appeared unchanged, as if it had not just witnessed a deadly struggle. The sun slowly rose, emerging from the horizon like a figure rising from the water, casting golden light that shimmered across the sea.

Leaning against the rail, Hughes found that, despite having been awake all night, he was too tense to sleep.

“Are you alright, Hughes?” Boris approached, noticing Hughes by the railing.

“I’m fine. How’s Leah?”

“She’s safe, still in her cabin. I didn’t let her come out.”

“That’s good.” Hughes gazed out at the endless sea, his eyes clouded with uncertainty.

“Come on, Hughes, let’s get something to eat and rest up,” Boris urged, taking him along. Hughes wanted to refuse, but in the end, he could not.

Only half the usual number of people came to breakfast. The meal was silent, broken only by the sounds of chewing.

Afterward, Hughes and Boris returned to their rooms to rest.

Hughes lay down, allowing his mind to relax. Soon, he drifted into sleep.

It was not until dusk that he awoke, groggy and rubbing his head. Stepping outside, he saw Boris practicing his swordsmanship.

“Clearly, recent events have shaken him. Perhaps that’s for the best,” Hughes thought. After watching for a while, he returned to his room, unnoticed by Boris, who was absorbed in his training.

In the days that followed, nothing else of note occurred. The ship’s passengers spoke little, most seldom leaving their rooms. Perhaps it was the first time they had witnessed such carnage, or the first time they had seen the cold indifference of the wizards. They had gained a new understanding of this world, where only the strong survive.

“Beep! Hughes Bruch: Strength 3.8, Agility 4.1, Constitution 4.0, Mental Power 3.1, Status: Healthy.”

“Another 0.1!” Hughes beamed at his status panel. Over the course of the day, his mental strength had increased by 0.2, finally breaking through the barrier of 3. He could sense his mind growing sharper, his thoughts coming more swiftly.

Elated by his progress, Hughes looked forward to their arrival—their destination was only a day away. He had long grown weary of life aboard the ship, and the prospect of returning to land filled him with joy.

At last, by midday of the second day, land appeared on the horizon from the deck of the Transcendence.

The vessel drew closer to the harbor, where fishing boats and merchant ships bustled to and fro. Most people here made their living from the sea, the calls of fishmongers echoing throughout the port.

The students, adrift for nearly a month, felt their spirits lift at the sight of land. Time had dulled the memory of past horrors, and perhaps they had already begun to forget.

“Well, everyone, we have arrived at our destination—the Far North!” At some point, the four wizards had silently appeared behind the students.

They were all dressed in black cloaks, but now, unlike before, the edges of their sleeves were embroidered with intricate dark gold patterns. Each wore a different badge on their chest, but one in particular caught Hughes’ attention.

“It’s exactly the same as the pattern on my ring,” he thought, studying the badge on Charlie’s chest—a ring with a raven, wings spread, connected to the circle. His was a pale violet, while Charlie’s shone with a hue of purple-gold.

Examining the badge, Hughes’ mind began to turn with new ideas. The color didn’t matter—what mattered was the symbol itself.