Nephis pushed forward, swimming through the dark sea with Sunny in tow. Her body, exhausted from the effort, barely responded. Each stroke cost her more than the last, but she didn't stop. She had endured worse. Her soul had been pushed to its limits, nearly burned by the power of her Aspect... and still, she kept going.
The truth was, she felt very little at that moment. Her mind was numb, as if the fire that had driven her moments ago had now turned to ash. And yet, she clung to a single certainty: she had to save Sunny.
When they were close enough, her gaze shifted toward the vessel. She studied it carefully, a faint curiosity stirring beneath the weight of her fatigue.
It was a ketch.
Nephis narrowed her eyes. How curious.
She almost said it out loud, maybe just to distract herself, but held back. Sunny, in his current state, wasn't really up for conversation. Besides, she doubted he even knew what a ketch was. That idiot probably barely knew what a boat was.
It was funny... if you ignored the reason behind it.
He didn't know because no one had ever taught him. Because instead of growing up with books and tutors, he had grown up in the outskirts, breathing toxic air and — if he was lucky — eating once a week.
No. That part wasn't funny at all.
When they were just a couple meters from the hull, a rope ladder descended from the side of the ship. Nephis paused. The ladder hadn't been there before... but now it hung there, as if it always had, as if it had been waiting for them.
This vessel was looking more like a trap by the second.
But honestly, what other choice did they have? Staying in the sea meant death — by nightmare beast, by something corrupted... or worse. Something cursed.
The thought pulled a tired smile from her lips. A cursed nightmare creature? It sounded like a joke. An absurd, ridiculous joke.
And yet, here... absurdity was common.
When they reached the hull, Nephis pushed Sunny toward the ladder. She helped him grab it, guiding his hands one by one, step by shaky step. His body trembled, barely conscious. But he climbed.
"I think you should go first?," she told him,
Sunny didn't reply.
It took several long minutes for him to reach the top. When he finally made it, he collapsed onto the wooden deck like a corpse dragged from the depths. He lay on his back, gasping, eyes half-closed, chest barely rising and falling.
Nephis watched from below for a moment.
Then she climbed up after him.
When she reached the top of the ladder and felt the solid ground beneath her feet, Nephis was hit by a wave of overwhelming calm. A stillness that wrapped around her entirely, as if something deeply essential — something that had been stretched too tightly for too long — could finally relax. She had almost forgotten what it was like to stand on solid ground.
And then, without thinking too much, she did the only thing that felt right.
She let herself fall.
Not onto the cold, damp wood of the deck, of course. Why would she, when right below her was the most comfortable pillow in two worlds?
Sunny.
Nephis landed gently on his chest, closing her eyes for a moment as she listened to the irregular, labored rhythm of his breathing. The warmth radiating from his weary body felt almost medicinal. She felt her own heart, just as tired, begin to slow down, to settle. The simple contact... soothed her.
Beneath her, Sunny let out a faint groan — more exhausted than annoyed. But he didn't move to push her off. What could he do, anyway? He barely had the strength to breathe.
Nephis, still resting against him, thought that maybe this contact was helping her soul recover faster. It wasn't part of her Aspect. It wasn't magic. It was something simpler. Something deeper.
It was him.
After a few seconds in that shared silence, she exhaled. The weight of everything they had endured faded just a little. Then, reluctantly, she pushed herself up and off him, moving slowly, almost lazily. She sat next to him, one knee raised, and looked down.
Sunny still lay there, pale and quiet. His onyx eyes blinked quickly, as if trying to shake off lingering visions. He wasn't looking at her. In fact, he actively avoided her gaze... and his cheeks held the faintest trace of red.
Nephis tilted her head slightly, puzzled.
She didn't fully understand the reaction. Her mind, after everything that had happened, still felt muted. Her Flaw continued to block most of her emotions, like a wall of ice between her and the world.
And yet... even without feeling fully, she knew that something about this moment was important.
Of course, even under normal circumstances, she probably wouldn't have understood what was going through Sunny's head.
They were both disasters. Emotional, physical... maybe even inevitable.
But for now, at least... they were alive.
Together.
Nephis and Sunny stood up slowly, still tired, driven by a mix of caution and curiosity. They took a moment to observe the boat more closely.
The vessel, a ketch just over seven meters long, had no cabins, no roof, not even a visible sail. At first glance, it seemed little more than a drifting barge, abandoned to the mercy of the infinite sea.
And yet, it wasn't ugly.
Its wood, though worn by time and salt, retained a strange beauty. It had been smoothly carved, every curve, every line shaped with the hand of a true artisan. Not just a craftsman, but a master... or perhaps something else entirely. Something not human.
The wood grain shimmered under the faint light of the eternal sea, as if holding on to a trace of the will that had once given it form.
Their eyes drifted toward the prow. Where the steering oar should have been, there was only a plain bench. A modest seat, unadorned... a far cry from the iron throne of the Chain Breaker.
And yet, that bench was empty.
Completely empty.
Or so it seemed... until they saw it. A scarf.
It lay gently across the wooden surface, as if someone had placed it there on purpose. Though slightly frayed with use, it carried an undeniable elegance. It had been woven with care — each thread set in place with patience and affection.
But something was wrong.
Nephis felt a strange hollowness open inside her, like she had forgotten something important. Something vital. Why was this boat here? Why was it so well preserved? Who did that scarf belong to?
The stillness was too perfect.
The silence... too deep.
An unnatural presence settled over them. The kind that didn't need to speak to be known. Something about this boat didn't fit the logic of the world — not even the twisted logic of the River of Time.
And then, they saw it.
In the center of the ketch, right above the scarf, reality distorted. The air shimmered, as if something unseen had torn open the world.
A portal emerged.
But it wasn't just any portal. They recognized it instantly, even if its form had shifted. It wasn't about what could be seen — it was what could be felt: a warping of the world itself, of the very laws that bound it.
And from it... came two figures.
Two shadows.
Two specters.
They knew them too well. They were themselves — but not quite. Twisted images, like reflections in a shattered mirror. Sunny and Nephis... but distorted. Their eyes were dark, playful, cruel. Their forms barely tangible, and yet their presence weighed down the air like stone on the chest.
They were the specters of their swords. And they had returned.
But this time, there was no laughter. No mocking words. Only silence.
A silence more terrifying than any threat.
"Bastard... what do you want?" Sunny asked hoarsely, addressing the ghost bearing his face.
Silence remained. Unbroken. Relentless.
And then, something happened.
Nephis's specter leaned forward. Its lips moved. It whispered something.
The words were inaudible, but they didn't need to be understood — they were felt. They resonated. As if the world itself held its breath. The boat's frame trembled. The air turned cold.
An ancient cold.
Not born of water or wind.
It was the chill of inevitability.
In that moment, the sense that something was deeply wrong became overwhelming.
And then, they saw it.
The Sin of solace.
Its figure manifested — not from the portal, but from the very shadow of the boat. It stood there... or perhaps it was there, had always been. Its smile was wide and mocking, its lips tight, and its hair fell over its eyes like a veil.
And yet... they felt it. They felt its gaze.
They didn't need to see its eyes to know it was watching them. Piercing them like invisible knives.
And when it smiled — truly smiled, baring white teeth like polished bone — they knew.
It wasn't a warning.
It was a promise.
It almost looked like it wanted to speak.
But not yet.
Not now.
Then, as if answering an unspoken command, the boat began to move. Without sails. Without oars. It advanced slowly, steadily... guided by some invisible force.
And in that precise instant, the specters vanished.
One disappeared with a twisted grin.
The other — Nephis's — never once showed its face.