Chapter 150: Devil Fish
Clearly hearing the roar of the Blood River’s currents, the half-destroyed ship drew ever closer to that monstrous waterway. The red water churned like a sea of open veins, and each wave that struck the hull seemed to want to tear the ship apart.
The few survivors came out onto the deck. As they gazed upon the dismembered corpses of the ghouls, they shuddered with terror. The air was thick with decay and an unbearable stench; the planks were covered in blood and remains that still seemed to pulsate.
They didn’t know what had happened there, but they sensed it deep in their guts.
"Damn it! How could I not have heard anything? Yes, we were downstairs!" said one, hugging himself, his shoulders shaking under the weight of fear.
"Thanks to Miss Audrey and the young people, we were saved from becoming corpses..." murmured another, who looked at Audrey with a mixture of admiration and fear. He still remembered the moment when she had taken command, and the memory made his skin crawl.
Their eyes drifted to the mangled bodies of the ghouls. There, in their rotting remains, they discovered a strange symbol: a crescent moon carved into the flesh itself. They frowned. None of them had ever seen it before in their lives.
It was normal. With the fall of that deity, all traces of its existence had been erased by the believers of the Ancient Sun God. As the old proverb says: history is written by the victors.
No one dared to watch any longer. The silence was broken only by Kael’s voice, which emerged from the captain’s cabin.
"Grab the tools and repair any damage to the ship!" His tone was authoritative, ironclad, a voice that brooked no argument.
The survivors tensed up. For a moment, they hesitated. But when they met Kael’s cold, emotionless gaze, their bodies reacted before their minds could.
Like obedient ants, they began to move, desperately searching for the tools.
The half-destroyed ship was being dragged closer to the destructive currents of the River of Blood. That crimson flow seemed to devour everything that came near it, leaving no trace.
Kael took the helm. The veins in his arms bulged as he maneuvered the ship. Each movement required tremendous effort, as if he were fighting directly against the fury of the river.
The atmosphere was heavy, stifling, and tense.
With a calculated movement, he managed to slightly divert the ship, forcing it to take the current more stably.
The ship tilted and shook, rocked violently. The ropes creaked, the planks groaned under the pressure. Amidst the din, one of the sails tore and finally broke, falling straight into the river.
The wild roar of the currents instantly swallowed up the sound of the wood breaking.
"AHHH!"
A heart-wrenching scream echoed across the deck, immediately drawing everyone’s attention. One of the survivors had lost his balance during the jolt and was thrown off, falling straight into the turbulent currents.
The man waved his arms in desperation, his body sinking and resurfacing again and again. He tried to swim, but the waters of the River of Blood were too fierce. Every stroke was useless, every effort dragged him further and further down. He swallowed water violently, his throat filled with red foam, as if his body had no right to breathe for another moment.
Everyone was watching him. Until recently, they had shared words and oaths of survival, watching him fight. Their faces were contorted with guilt, fear, and helplessness. But no one jumped. Not a single hand was extended.
That was the true nature of human beings: hypocritical and contradictory. When life was not at risk, they spoke of brotherhood, friendship, and honor. But when death stretched out its hand, each thought of himself first.
The human heart is always like that: it leans toward convenience, not justice.
The man raised his head in a last attempt to breathe. His eyes opened in desperation, searching for a miracle. The only thing he found in his final vision was a log carried by the current, which brutally struck his face.
There was a dull crack. His head shattered into pieces, and with it, all his screams, hopes, and fears disappeared.
The river devoured his remains without a trace, as if he had never existed.
And on deck, the silence continued. No one spoke. No one cried. No one moved.
Because in the end, what is the point of mourning an inevitable death?
"What are you standing around for?! Quick, start repairing the ship’s parts if you don’t want to suffer the same fate!"
Kael’s voice roared again, harsh and commanding, like thunder cutting through the confusion of the survivors. His words snapped everyone out of their stupor. Pale faces turned toward him in fear, and in an instant, they began to move.
Shaky, clumsy hands reached for the splintered wood and rusty nails, trying to repair the damaged parts of the ship.
It was not courage that drove them, but the terror of being swallowed up by the raging currents of the River of Blood.
Kael watched them from above, his eyes cold and impassive. He didn’t care if they all died, if they were torn to pieces and dismembered by the broken wood that was being dragged downstream by the current.
Their lives meant nothing to him. However, at this precise moment, they were useful. The longer the ship held out, the better.
The creaking of the planks, the pounding of improvised hammers, the nervous gasps of the crew... everything mingled with the distant roar of the red-stained waters.
Kael knew he had to pass this section of the route. The ship could not be destroyed in this place. If that happened, he would most likely die too, and his end would be miserable, without glory, without meaning.
As they made their way through the raging currents, the half-destroyed boat rocked violently from side to side. The planks creaked under the pressure, splinters flew, and pieces of wood broke off incessantly, instantly swallowed up by the red waters of the river.
The current showed no sign of letting up. Each wave seemed to herald the imminent collapse of the ship.
From high above in the night sky, under the dim light of the stars, figures could be seen running back and forth across the deck, straining with all their might in a vain attempt to keep the ship intact.
Their movements were frantic, desperate, like insects struggling against a fire that was slowly consuming them.
Kael, on the other hand, remained steadfast. Several times, he had carefully prevented the ship from being devoured by the currents and whirlpools that suddenly emerged like open jaws.
His hands gripped the helm tightly, each turn measured to the limit of what was possible. His body was soaked, covered in sweat, not only from physical exertion, but also from the constant tension of maintaining balance in an environment that wanted to tear everything away from him.
The ship was rocking, the waves beating mercilessly against it. But amid the chaos, Kael’s gaze remained cold and his expression indifferent.
From the captain’s cabin, he watched Audrey, his maid, and Michel. Both remained still, like statues, watching everything unfold without lifting a finger, as if the possibility of being swallowed up by the river meant nothing to them.
But this didn’t bother him in the least. For Kael, calm amid chaos was a virtue. He simply gave them an order, with the same coldness with which a general moves pieces on a war board.
"Prepare for attacks from the Devil Fish and Corpse-Eating Fish."
His voice did not need to be raised. It reached the ears of the three clearly, and they reacted immediately. There was no doubt or hesitation; they knew that Kael never spoke empty words.
In an instant, their bodies were covered in an aura. Michel was the first: his energy burst forth in a black torrent. Then Martha, the maid, displayed a green aura crossed by bluish hues; that mixture gave her a strange, almost poisonous air.
Finally, Audrey released her aura: an intense blood red, adorned with black dots and purple sparkles dancing within. That contrast made her appear more noble, but also more cruel and bloodthirsty, like a queen bathed in the essence of slaughter.
The air inside the cabin changed immediately. Three different auras, three presences that rose majestically.
And not long after, under the moonlight, a fish the size of a dog leaped toward the ship.
His appearance was terrifying, as if he had been torn from the darkest depths of hell. His body was covered in cracked black skin, marked with red lines that looked like bloody veins.
His head was broad and misshapen, with large, dull eyes. When he opened his mouth, it revealed a row of long, sharp teeth, spaced apart as if they were hooks designed not only to tear flesh, but to cling to it and never let go.
Even the air around him seemed to be polluted by his presence. A nauseating stench emanated from his damp skin, mixing the smell of marine decay with a sulfurous hint, as if he had truly emerged from a river condemned by hell itself.
That was a Devil Fish.