Chapter 981 – "The Hidden Dividend"
The anchor's tone grew more serious as she introduced the next segment:
"For years, Aten rice has given humanity strength, mana, and vitality — awakening every person on Earth. But in Japan, the story goes further. Beyond survival, beyond sweetness, they have uncovered something deeper: a quiet transformation in population quality itself."
Graphs appeared on the screen: test scores rising, health metrics stabilizing, lifespans edging higher. But the real shock came from the numbers tied to intelligence.
Children raised from birth on Aten rice, golden milk, mana-infused eggs, and Aten-fed meats consistently tested far above global averages. Not just stronger in body — sharper in mind.
A Tokyo university professor explained:
"Think of Aten rice as the foundation. It awakens mana, strengthens the body, and stabilizes growth. But when you add the animal products — milk, eggs, meat — raised on Aten rice, you're adding add-ons. They refine the mind, sharpen learning, and expand memory capacity."
Clips rolled of Japanese classrooms. Children sat attentively, their golden-packed bento boxes filled with rice, glowing eggs, and creamy milk cartons stamped with the words Aten-fed.
A teacher smiled at the camera.
"These children don't struggle the way past generations did. They absorb lessons faster, solve problems quicker, and show incredible creativity. It's not just intelligence — it's clarity."
Parents echoed the same.
"My daughter remembers everything she reads after only once," said a mother in Osaka.
"My son solves puzzles I can't even understand," laughed a father in Hokkaido.
Foreign researchers visiting Japan were stunned. One remarked in disbelief:
"This is more than a healthy diet. This is an evolutionary leap within a single generation."
Meanwhile, Japan's Ministry of Education released a quiet but startling report:
Average mana capacity among children had doubled in the last decade.IQ equivalents showed a steady rise, especially in rural farming regions where Aten-fed animal products were most abundant.Behavioral stability had improved — fewer children suffered from hyperactivity or fatigue.
The world began to take notice. Headlines blared:
"The Aten Generation: Japan's Children Are Different.""Food That Makes You Smarter?""Is Japan Quietly Building the Strongest Future Workforce?"
As the reports spread, experts warned of a widening global gap. While all nations benefited from Aten rice, Japan's head start — having begun livestock feeding programs years earlier — gave them an unmatched advantage.
One commentator summarized it perfectly:
"Aten rice awakened the world. But Japan discovered the add-ons. And those add-ons may decide the balance of the next century."
The panel of experts on the broadcast leaned forward as the anchor pressed them with the obvious question:
"But Aten rice was distributed to the whole world years ago. Every nation, every people — all awakened. So why does Japan seem to have an advantage?"
A nutritionist adjusted his glasses.
"It is true: Aten rice itself increases intelligence. Global studies confirm that children born after the spread of Aten rice show higher learning ability everywhere. However…" He paused, letting the word linger. "…in Japan, the effect is slightly greater."
Another expert, a sociologist, explained further:
"While Aten rice raised the floor for everyone, Japan built upon it. By combining Aten rice with Aten-fed animal products, they created a compound effect. It's not night and day — but it is enough to give Japan's younger generations sharper mana control, faster memory retention, and broader problem-solving skills than the global average."
Footage shifted to comparison tests. Students in London, New Delhi, and São Paulo solved complex mana puzzles with steady success. But Japanese classrooms consistently finished faster, with fewer mistakes. The margin was slim, but undeniable.
A reporter in the studio summarized with a hint of awe:
"Aten rice gave intelligence to the world. But Japan, by layering milk, eggs, and meat raised on Aten rice, gained a little more. And in the competition of nations, even a little can mean everything."
The broadcast cut to interviews on the street.
A farmer in Kobe chuckled as he poured rich golden milk into a glass.
"Other countries have Aten rice. We have Aten rice and Aten herds. That's the difference."
Parents agreed.
"My son learns twice as fast as I did," said one father proudly.
"My daughter memorized entire songs after hearing them once," added a mother.
The anchor closed the segment gravely, as the camera zoomed in on Japanese schoolchildren walking home with bento boxes.
"Humanity has risen together thanks to Aten rice. But Japan… may have risen just a little higher."
The news spread like wildfire across the world: Norway's population quality was beginning to rise in the same way Japan's had.
At first, people thought it was only about food exports — the "Silver Seas Project" bringing Aten-fed salmon and seafood to global tables. But scientists noticed something deeper: Norwegians themselves were changing.
Generations raised on Aten rice and Aten-fed seafood showed sharper intelligence, stronger mana affinity, and more resilient health. Children displayed accelerated learning, quicker reflexes, and healthier bodies. Adults reported longer stamina, clarity of thought, and fewer illnesses. Doctors remarked that even their elderly were aging more gracefully, their vitality closer to middle age than old age.
A Norwegian health official summarized it clearly for the press:
"Japan had Aten rice first, and their livestock gave them a golden advantage. We have the oceans. Our population is now showing the same pattern of uplift. Call it intelligence, mana resonance, or simply human evolution — the truth is that Norwegians are stronger than they were before."
This was not about individuals anymore. It was population quality — the collective strength, intelligence, and vitality of an entire nation rising steadily, reshaping society from within.
Reporters made comparisons:
Japan led in land-based food revolutions — Wagyu, milk, eggs.Norway was leading in ocean-based revolutions — salmon, cod, oysters.Both nations were now producing populations with superior health, sharper minds, and awakened mana at levels unmatched in the world.
In Oslo, proud citizens called it "the Silver Blessing." Students joked that eating salmon made them smarter, but test scores and cultivation aptitude quietly confirmed the truth. Families noticed their children could concentrate longer, adapt faster, and control mana earlier.
Global commentators concluded:
"Japan and Norway are no longer just food exporters. They are becoming nations of higher quality people — a new generation of elites shaped by the gifts of Aten rice."
The world watched with awe, envy, and unease.
The news that Norway's population quality was rising — matching Japan's golden standard — sent shockwaves through the world. Governments, corporations, and farmers who had once hesitated now looked back with regret.
Because the truth was, many countries had already tried. For months — even years — they had been experimenting quietly, feeding Aten rice to livestock, fish, and poultry. But most had done it too late or without patience.
They had rushed for quick results, expecting miracles in weeks, not understanding that the true transformation came only with generations raised fully on Aten rice.
Reports came in from across the globe:
France had fed Aten rice to dairy cows, but only for a few months before selling them. The milk was better, yes — creamier, richer — but nowhere near Japan's golden milk.Chile and Peru had tried feeding salmon in sea pens. The fish grew healthier, but without a consistent Aten-based feed from birth, they lacked the divine taste of Norway's "Silver Seas."Egypt and Morocco had experimented with Aten-fed poultry, but most farmers gave up after a single season when results seemed ordinary.
Now, looking at Japan's golden herds and Norway's silver seas, the world realized the painful truth:
Those who had persisted for years — patiently raising animals from birth — had built a foundation of population quality that could not be caught overnight.
Chapter 982 – "The Golden Tides"
It had been eight months since dozens of nations, desperate not to fall behind Japan and Norway, began the massive experiment of casting Aten rice into their seas. Cargo ships emptied sacks into coastal waters, rivers, and bays, hoping that fish, shellfish, and every manner of sea life would feed and evolve.
At first, results were modest. The fish grew healthier, some tastier, but none yet rivaled the divine flesh of Norway's Aten-fed salmon. Chefs agreed:
"Better, yes — but not extraordinary. Norway still leads."
But then came the surprise.
The true transformation did not start with the fish.
It began with the Mollusca, Crustaceans, and other Invertebrates — creatures that adapted far faster than anyone expected.
Oysters and mussels, fed constantly by the Aten rice dissolving into the tidal flows, developed shells with faint golden sheens. Their meat inside pulsed faintly with mana. When eaten, diners reported not just exquisite flavor but a clean, energizing aftertaste.Shrimp and lobsters grew larger, their shells thicker yet easier to cook through, their flesh tender and sweet. A chef in Bangkok described the taste as "the sea reborn in gold."Even humble crabs and clams displayed transformation: crabs with brighter shells, clams that lived longer and bred faster, producing endless harvests for coastal villages.
The difference was astonishing. Unlike fish, which took generations to reveal their true potential, the invertebrates responded within months, reshaping local economies almost overnight.
Markets in Southeast Asia, the Mediterranean, and South America exploded with new delicacies. Videos flooded social media: golden oysters opened under candlelight, lobsters glowing faintly red-gold when boiled, shrimp dishes that seemed to carry a shimmering sheen.
Scientists scrambled to explain why. Marine biologists theorized that filter-feeders and bottom-dwellers — constantly consuming micro-particles in the water — absorbed Aten rice fragments faster and more consistently than roaming fish. Their short lifespans also meant evolution compressed into months, not years.
The world began to call them:
"The Golden Tides."
For the first time since Norway's triumph, other nations had something to show the world. Though they could not yet match Norway's salmon, their seas now offered treasures of a different kind — treasures that might become just as valuable.
As chefs and reporters marveled at the new taste and vitality of the golden oysters, lobsters, and shrimp, scientists watching the farms began to notice something even more extraordinary.
At first, they thought it was an error in the records. Hatcheries reported higher numbers than normal, but the data kept coming back the same, week after week:
Reproduction rates were accelerating.
Oyster beds that normally took months to spawn were producing viable young in mere weeks.Lobsters, infamous for their slow growth and long reproductive cycles, were spawning twice as often, with larvae far hardier than before.Shrimp ponds, already known for quick turnover, now doubled their output — each generation larger and healthier than the last.
The effect was so rapid that one marine biologist in Spain admitted during a televised interview:
"We're watching evolution run at fast-forward. What normally takes decades, we're seeing in months."
This revelation sent shockwaves through the fishing industry. Coastal farmers who had thrown Aten rice into their waters found themselves suddenly flooded with abundance — more than they could sell, more than they could even store.
Markets overflowed with shellfish and crustaceans, prices plunging at first, then stabilizing as demand caught up. Restaurants clamored for supply, declaring golden shrimp and oysters the new luxury staples.
But beyond profit, governments realized something more important:
This wasn't just better seafood. This was food security.
Populations of invertebrates weren't merely healthier — they were multiplying at rates no one had believed possible. In a world that had always feared overfishing and collapse, the Golden Tides promised the opposite: a near-endless bounty, as though the seas themselves had awakened.
A Japanese commentator summed it up in awe:
"Norway has the Silver Seas with its salmon. But the world now sees something even broader — oceans that breed without end. This is not just evolution. This is renewal."
Just as the world was reeling from the discovery of accelerated reproduction in mollusks and crustaceans, another headline erupted across global networks.
Breaking News: Fishermen off the coast of Maine haul up a colossal lobster — measuring 1.5 meters in length.
The images were surreal. The lobster's claws were massive, thick as tree branches, and its shell shimmered faintly with a subtle golden sheen. Cameras zoomed in as stunned fishermen held it up, their hands barely able to grip the creature's armored body.
One veteran captain, interviewed live on deck, stammered:
"I've fished these waters for 40 years… the biggest I ever saw was maybe half this size. But this… this is like something out of a myth."
Marine biologists confirmed the rarity immediately. While lobsters can theoretically grow to enormous sizes given enough time, most never survive long enough in the wild. Disease, predators, and fishing prevent it. But this one had not only survived — it had thrived.
Analysis revealed two shocking details:
Its flesh carried the same mana-laced vitality as other Aten-fed seafood.Its growth rate had been abnormal, reaching a size that normally might take a century, in less than a decade.
News anchors declared it "The Golden Lobster," and social media exploded with awe, memes, and debates.
Governments quickly stepped in, forbidding the immediate sale of the creature. Instead, scientists transported it to a secure marine facility for study. Reporters outside the lab speculated wildly:
"If one lobster reached this size, how many more are lurking in the depths? What will happen in the next five years?"
Chefs, meanwhile, could barely contain their excitement. A French culinary critic whispered during a broadcast:
"If even one lobster of this size enters the market… it will be the most coveted dish in human history."
For ordinary people, however, the sight was something deeper — a symbol. Proof that the seas themselves were no longer bound by natural limits.
The age of giant seafood had begun.
While scientists were still dissecting the implications of the 1.5-meter Golden Lobster, another wave of excitement erupted from an unexpected source: a YouTube livestream.
A popular diving YouTuber, known for exploring wrecks and catching lobsters for fun, had gone live from the coast of Florida. His camera shook slightly as he whispered through his regulator:
"Guys… you're not gonna believe this. I found one. It's huge."
The screen filled with the image of a lobster nearly 0.9 meters long, crawling swiftly over a coral outcrop. Its antennae twitched like whips, and faint golden lines glimmered along its shell in the filtered sunlight.
Viewers spammed the chat:
"No way, that's real??""It's like a monster movie!""Catch it! Catch it!"
The diver pulled out a reinforced lobster net and tried to maneuver closer. But the creature was nothing like ordinary lobsters. It moved with startling speed, darting sideways and backward, its massive legs kicking up sand clouds as it twisted away.
"What the— it's too fast!" the diver gasped, bubbles rushing from his mask. "Normal lobsters don't move like this!"
The camera spun wildly as he lunged, the net brushing the lobster's tail — but in an instant, the giant crustacean snapped backward like lightning and vanished into a crevice.
The livestream chat exploded with reactions:
"It ESCAPED???""That's not a lobster, that's a boss fight.""Bro you almost had it, I was screaming IRL."
Surfacing later, the diver laughed breathlessly to his viewers:
"You all saw it. Almost a meter long, fast as a damn barracuda. These things aren't just big… they're adapting. We're not ready for this."
Still underwater, the diver steadied his breathing and whispered into the mic:
"Wait—hold on… you guys seeing this?"
The camera tilted down to reveal a crab shimmering like solid gold crawling across the seabed. Its carapace gleamed under the filtered sunlight, each ridge catching the light as if it were hammered metal. The chat exploded instantly:
"A GOLDEN CRAB?!""No way, that's CGI.""Bro is farming Minecraft IRL."
The diver slowly extended his net, muttering,
"If I can catch this, it'll break the internet."
With one quick lunge, he pinned the crab against the sand. For a moment, it looked like he had succeeded — until the crab wrenched free in the strangest way imaginable.
Its claw muscles detached with a sudden snap, just like a lizard shedding its tail. The diver pulled back in shock, holding a twitching golden claw still clamped inside the net, while the crab's body scuttled away at blinding speed, vanishing into the rocks.
"WHAT—? Did it just… rip itself apart?!" the diver shouted, disbelief echoing through his regulator.
The livestream chat went wild:
"BRO IT SELF-DESTRUCTED""It ditched its arm like a gecko tail!!""That's evolution speedrunning."
The diver floated, holding the still-moving claw in his hand, golden shell glinting eerily. His voice trembled between laughter and awe:
"Guys… these things aren't just stronger or bigger. They're evolving survival tricks we've never seen in crustaceans. If lobsters are getting faster and crabs can do… this…"
He trailed off, turning the camera toward the reef where the golden crab had vanished.
"We have no idea what's coming next."
The diver finally resurfaced, dragging himself onto the boat with one hand still clutching the severed golden crab claw, its muscles twitching faintly even outside the water. The camera, dripping seawater, caught the claw in sharp sunlight.
It gleamed as though cast from molten metal.
The livestream chat went berserk:
"HOLY SHT IT'S REAL."*"That's not a claw, that's a weapon.""Cook it! Cook it! Cook it!"
The diver's crewmates gathered around, equal parts cautious and exhilarated. One of them poked the shell with a knife and whistled.
"Feels like steel. But it's fresh. It's still warm."
The diver grinned nervously at the camera.
"Alright chat… you wanted it. Let's see what Aten-fed crab tastes like."
They set up a small gas stove right on deck. Salt water sizzled in the pot, steam rising. The diver carefully cracked the claw open with a hammer, revealing translucent, pearlescent meat streaked with faint golden veins. The smell hit them instantly — briny, rich, intoxicating.
One crewman leaned closer.
"This… this smells like a five-star kitchen."
The diver dropped the meat into the boiling water. Within minutes, the crab flesh turned a pristine white with glowing streaks of gold that seemed to shimmer even after cooking. The chat spammed emojis and all-caps messages:
"IS THIS REAL LIFE??""BRO JUST INVENTED GOD-TIER SEAFOOD.""SEND IT TO GORDON RAMSAY."
They plated it simply — no butter, no seasoning, just a bite of the boiled golden crab. The diver, still live, took the first bite.
Silence. His eyes widened.
"It's… sweet. Clean. Like… lobster, but sharper, fresher. And the mana—" he exhaled sharply, clutching his chest, "—it feels like I just drank the best energy potion of my life."
His crewmates each took a bite, and one of them nearly cried.
"This… this shouldn't exist. It's… perfect."
The livestream counter exploded past two million viewers, donations flooding in. Food bloggers clipped the moment instantly. Within hours, the diver wasn't just a YouTuber anymore — he was the man who had cooked the first golden crab in history.
And the world, watching the shimmering meat vanish into hungry mouths, understood one thing:
If golden fish were worth billions… then golden shellfish would spark wars.
Chapter 983 – "The Crab Nations"
The breaking news from the diver's livestream spread faster than wildfire. Golden-flecked crab meat, shimmering under the stove light, was replayed on every screen from Tokyo to New York. For the first time, the world realized that not only fish — but shellfish and crustaceans had begun to adapt to Aten rice in the seas.
And among all nations, one name kept rising: Alaska.
Anchors spoke in sharp tones:
"If Japan holds the golden herds, and Norway commands the silver seas… then the United States, with its Alaskan crab fisheries, may now hold the golden tides."
Alaska's red king crab — already one of the most prized catches in the seafood world — suddenly became the focal point of global speculation. If Aten-fed crabs could grow to monstrous size, shimmer with golden hues, and deliver meat rich with mana, then the icy waters of the Bering Sea had just become the most valuable territory on Earth.
Fishermen from Dutch Harbor spoke to cameras with a mix of awe and greed:
"We've pulled up big ones before… but if they start growing to a meter, two meters? That's not just seafood. That's treasure."
Russia, sharing the Bering waters, wasted no time issuing statements of its own. State media declared proudly:
"The Far East fisheries of Russia will not be left behind. Golden crab is not just American wealth. It is our inheritance as well."
Markets reacted instantly. Seafood futures spiked. Restaurant chains across Asia placed early bets, signing speculative contracts for golden king crab years before a single shipment was confirmed.
In Japan, reporters grilled chefs for their opinions. One renowned sushi master bowed solemnly after tasting a small sample of the golden crab claw from the diver's stream:
"If this quality spreads to Alaskan king crab… the world will never look at seafood the same way again."
Governments began dispatching marine biologists, alchemists, and navy patrols to monitor the crab-rich waters. Unlike fish, which roamed the oceans, the crabs stayed largely within their territories — meaning whoever controlled the breeding grounds controlled the gold.
The U.S. Department of Commerce announced new protective measures, warning against illegal fishing. Russia quietly mobilized its Pacific fleet to "protect maritime resources." Even Canada, though not a direct holder of Alaskan crab grounds, expressed interest in tracing Aten rice drift into its Arctic waters.
And ordinary people?
They flocked to seafood markets, desperate for even a rumor of golden crab meat. Fake claws and photoshopped images flooded social media, but the desire was real. Families whispered of saving just to taste a single bite, while billionaires already prepared their private chefs for the eventual arrival.
For the first time since Aten rice began its global conquest, the battleground wasn't fields or herds.
It was the ocean floor.
The age of the Crab Nations had begun.
The fishermen prepared at dawn, their vessels cutting across the icy waters. The cold that once gnawed at bone and spirit was no longer a threat—awakening had changed them. Their bodies now brimmed with mana, their blood running hot even in the harsh winds of the northern seas.
On deck, they secured the reinforced pots, heavier and stronger than ever before. Steel bars layered with mana circuits glowed faintly, designed to endure creatures no longer ordinary. They worked with swift precision, ropes coiled, bait secured, and pot after pot sank into the abyss of the Bering waters.
Hours later, the hydraulic cranes roared as the first pots were pulled up. The cages rattled violently, shaking as if something inside resisted with terrifying force. Men steadied themselves, grips tight on the steel rails, their eyes widening as shadows emerged from beneath the waves.
And then they saw it.
A crab unlike any in history, dragged into the daylight. Its shell gleamed with an otherworldly luster, its claws broad and ridged with faint golden veins pulsing with mana. The creature's leg span stretched out to 3.5 meters, dwarfing the pots that barely contained it. The steel bars groaned under its weight, sparks of mana snapping as if the beast was alive with energy.
For a heartbeat, the deck fell silent.
Then one of the fishermen whispered, awestruck, "By the gods… this is no crab. This is a titan."
The massive creature slammed its claws against the cage, the force sending tremors across the deck. But the reinforced pots held firm. Relief spread through the crew as they realized their preparations had worked.
The captain barked orders, his voice steady despite the excitement.
"Secure it! We're bringing this one home!"
The men moved quickly, locking the pot, pouring seawater mana into the storage tanks, and guiding the crane to swing the colossal crab into its new holding chamber. The moment it touched the water within, it thrashed once—then stilled, settling into the tank, the golden glow of its veins flickering faintly beneath the surface.
The fishermen stood drenched in spray, panting, hearts racing. They looked at one another, disbelief mirrored in every face.
One man laughed, almost in tears.
"Do you understand what this means? This single crab… it's worth more than the whole season's catch!"
The men could hardly keep their eyes off the massive crab, its claws glimmering faintly as it shifted inside the reinforced tank. The pot it had been hauled in was bent, bars warped from the sheer pressure of its size.
One of the younger fishermen whistled low.
"If this thing is 3.5 meters… what about the ones still out there? We're going to need bigger pots."
The deck erupted with murmurs of agreement. Several of the older hands nodded grimly.
"Aye. If they're growing this fast on Aten rice, today's titan could be tomorrow's runt."
The captain crossed his arms, gaze fixed on the horizon. His voice carried like steel.
"Then we adapt. No excuses. Forge larger pots, reinforce them with mana circuits, and double the rope strength. If the ocean is birthing monsters now, we'll be ready to claim them."
A ripple of determination spread across the crew. Some still stared nervously at the crab, which dwarfed any they had ever seen, but there was no fear—only excitement. The hunger of fishermen who knew they had just crossed into a new era.
One veteran slapped the side of the bent cage and chuckled.
"Looks like the sea's telling us to level up. Good thing we're awakened now."
The men laughed, the sound carried by the wind, mingling with the groan of waves and the faint thrum of mana in the air.
The crew turned in surprise as one of the younger fishermen began stripping off his jacket and boots, leaving only a pair of shorts. His grin was wide, wild with excitement.
"I want to see for myself," he said, tossing his shirt onto the deck. "The sea's too clean now, thanks to Aten rice. You can see deeper than ever before. Who knows what's down there?"
The others laughed, some shaking their heads.
"You're mad," one of the veterans said, though his tone carried more admiration than scolding. "But I can't blame you. Ever since the water cleared, it feels like the ocean's alive again."
The man strapped a mana-imbued breathing charm around his neck and stood at the edge of the vessel, the wind whipping against his bare skin. The water below shimmered with clarity, like liquid glass stretching endlessly into the blue depths. He could see shadows moving far beneath — massive silhouettes gliding slowly, almost lazily, as if the ocean itself had woken from a long slumber.
Another crewmate leaned on the rail, peering over.
"Look at that… it's like the old days, before pollution. No, even cleaner. Like the sea's been reborn."
The diver grinned wider, took one last deep breath, and dove.
The splash echoed, and for a moment the entire deck went silent. Then the captain barked a laugh.
"Brave fool. If he doesn't get eaten, maybe he'll bring us back a story worth drinking to."
The men gathered at the rail, watching bubbles rise as the diver's figure swam deeper into the crystal-clear sea. For the first time in their lives, they weren't staring into murk or oil-slicked waters. They were looking into a living cathedral of light — the Aten-fed ocean, vast and shimmering with golden life.
Chapter 984 – "Into the Storm"
Dark clouds gathered on the horizon, rolling in like mountains of shadow. The wind howled, carrying with it the scent of salt and thunder. Waves began to rise, slamming against the hull of the vessel with booming force.
The crew braced themselves, gripping ropes and rails. But the captain, an old man with eyes hardened by decades at sea, only gave a calm smile as he looked out into the swelling ocean.
"A storm like this," he said evenly, his voice carrying over the roar of the wind, "shouldn't be a problem for us. Not anymore."
The men glanced at each other, and then at their captain. They all knew what he meant. They weren't ordinary fishermen anymore. Every one of them had awakened. Their bodies were stronger, their endurance higher, their lungs tougher. The sea no longer held the same terror it once did.
One of the younger men laughed, stripping off his coat and boots.
"Then what are we waiting for?"
Without hesitation, he leapt over the rail into the raging sea. The splash was swallowed instantly by the storm's roar.
"Mad bastard," another said — and then grinned before jumping in after him.
One by one, the crew followed, plunging into the ocean's depths with a mixture of excitement and defiance. The storm hammered above, but beneath the surface the water was shockingly clear, lit by faint golden glimmers from the mana-fed life below. Giant silhouettes moved like shadows across the seabed, vast crabs and fish that seemed to pulse with strength.
The captain remained at the rail for a moment longer, watching his crew vanish into the water. Then he chuckled under his breath and muttered,
"This ocean… it belongs to us now."
And with that, he too dove, the storm raging above as the fishermen disappeared into the reborn sea.
The world beneath the storm was a kingdom of shifting light and shadows. Golden rays pierced the surface only in fleeting fragments before the clouds swallowed them again, casting the sea into a half-lit twilight.
The awakened fishermen swam with powerful strokes, their bodies moving faster and stronger than any ordinary diver. Their lungs held steady — they could last ten minutes down here without worry.
Then they saw it.
A colossal shadow moved across the seafloor, scattering schools of glowing fish. Out from behind a ridge of coral and kelp, a crab the size of a war chariot emerged. Its shell gleamed dark and slick, its height easily two meters tall, its legs spanning wide like the beams of a fortress gate. Its claws opened and closed with thunderous cracks, each movement echoing through the water.
One of the younger divers gestured wildly, bubbles rushing from his mouth. His eyes sparkled with excitement. This is it.
Three of them swam together, spreading out instinctively. The crab tried to retreat, moving sideways with startling speed, but these men were not ordinary fishermen anymore. One darted low, slamming his awakened strength into the sand to cut off its escape. Another twisted from above, grappling one of its legs with both arms. The third dove at the opening, wrapping his hands around the crab's other claw.
The beast thrashed, churning the seabed into clouds of silt. Its claws snapped shut with enough force to crush steel, but the three men held firm, muscles straining, mana burning faintly around their bodies.
Slowly, inch by inch, they forced it still.
One of them clenched his teeth, eyes wide with triumph as they heaved together. The crab finally stilled, its massive body bound by the combined might of three awakened men.
They looked at one another through the water — tired, thrilled, victorious.
With bubbles streaming from their mouths, they kicked toward the surface, dragging the colossal crab upward.
Above them, the storm roared. Lightning streaked across the sky, illuminating their ascent.
When they broke through the surface, gasping, the captain and the rest of the crew stared in awe as the three men hauled the massive catch toward the ship.
For a heartbeat, no one spoke.
Then the captain grinned, his voice booming even against the storm.
"Now that's a prize worth the sea's fury!"
Cheers erupted across the deck as ropes were thrown down to help haul the beast aboard.
The age of fishing had changed forever.
The colossal crab slammed onto the deck with a heavy thud, its shell gleaming wet beneath the storm's gray light. Rain hammered down, the wind shrieked, and yet none of the crew could tear their eyes from the monster sprawled before them.
"By the gods…" one fisherman muttered, running his hand across a claw thicker than his thigh. "This thing's meat could feed a village."
The captain's eyes sparkled with both pride and hunger. "Not just a village — this will feed us now. Bring out the cooking gear!"
Despite the raging storm, the men moved with practiced discipline. An iron pot was dragged out, flames conjured with awakened mana to resist the wind. Salted herbs and seaweed gathered earlier were tossed into the boiling water, the scent rising even as rain lashed at the deck.
With sharp awakened knives, the crew cut through the crab's massive shell. White steam hissed as chunks of pearly meat were pried free, each piece larger than a man's hand. They dropped them into the pot, the broth instantly clouding with rich aroma.
The storm howled, waves slamming against the hull, but for the fishermen it was nothing — just a backdrop to their feast.
Minutes later, the first bowl was ladled out. The captain himself took it, blowing on the steaming crab meat before sinking his teeth into it.
His eyes widened. He chewed slowly, savoring. Then, despite the rain drenching his beard and the storm battering the sails, he laughed.
"Delicious!" he bellowed over the wind. "The storm is nothing — this taste is worth it!"
The crew roared with excitement, bowls handed around, steam rising in defiance of the storm's fury.
One man slurped broth and gasped. "Sweet… it's sweeter than any crab I've ever had!"
Another tore into a claw and nearly dropped it in shock. "The texture — it's soft, tender, but strong! Like it's alive in your mouth!"
Even the youngest crewmember, trembling from exhaustion, smiled wide after his first bite. "Captain… this isn't food. This is… treasure."
The deck shook with laughter, with cheers, with the sound of bowls clinking against wood. All around them, the storm raged — but aboard the ship, the warmth of the colossal crab's flavor drowned out wind and thunder alike.
For the men of the sea, there was no greater triumph: to hunt, to cook, and to taste the ocean's bounty with their own hands.
The storm raged on, but the fishermen had long since forgotten fear. They were riding the high of discovery, their ship turned into both hunting ground and banquet hall.
For nine relentless hours, they worked the sea with awakened strength, hauling pot after pot, diving into the icy waters without hesitation. Their hands bled from pulling lines, their bodies bruised from the struggle, but their spirits blazed brighter than ever.
By dawn's first light, as the storm clouds began to part, their deck held the spoils of a night no man would ever forget.
Seven colossal Alaskan crabs — each standing nearly a meter tall, their spindly legs spanning wide like armored soldiers. Their shells gleamed faintly with a sheen that caught the morning sun, golden highlights running along their joints.
The crew stood around them, panting, drenched, but grinning ear to ear.
"Seven…" whispered one fisherman, voice almost reverent. "Seven giants… in just one night."
The youngest crewman knelt beside one crab, pressing his hand against its armored shell. "These aren't just bigger. They're… different. Stronger. The sea itself is changing."
The captain's chest swelled with pride. He placed a hand on the largest crab's claw and barked a laugh that carried across the waves.
"Men, this catch will be remembered in history! No ports have seen crabs like these, not in a hundred lifetimes!" He slammed his fist on the deck, the sound echoing like a war drum. "And we are the first to bring them home."
The crew erupted in cheers, their voices mingling with the cry of gulls circling overhead.
Already, the thought of fortune stirred in their minds. Restaurants would pay fortunes. Nobles would demand them. The world would clamor to taste the meat of Aten-fed crabs.
But in that moment, it wasn't about money. It was about pride, about surviving the storm, about seizing the ocean's bounty with their own hands.
As the ship turned toward port, the seven colossal crabs lashed securely to the deck, the men knew one truth above all:
The age of ordinary seas was over.
The silver seas were here, and they had been the first to claim them.
Chapter 985 – "The Port Awakens"
The harbor was already busy when the ship returned, but the moment the vessel appeared on the horizon, word spread like fire. Fishermen leaned on their nets, dockworkers froze mid-haul, and vendors stopped shouting prices. Something about the silhouette of the ship — tall, proud, its deck piled high with something massive — drew every eye.
By the time the ship moored, a crowd had gathered. Reporters pushed forward with cameras, notebooks ready, while local buyers and restaurant agents jostled for position, shouting questions even before the gangplank dropped.
"What did they bring back?"
"Is it true—giant crabs?"
"Show us! Let us see!"
The crew, exhausted yet grinning, wasted no time. With chains and pulleys, they heaved their prize onto the dock.
The first colossal crab slammed onto the wood with a heavy thud that echoed across the port. Gasps rang out as the towering creature lay sprawled before them, nearly a meter tall with legs stretching three meters across. Its shell glistened faintly gold under the morning sun, a sight so alien yet magnificent that silence fell for a heartbeat.
Then the port erupted.
"It's enormous!" a reporter screamed, snapping frantic photos.
"A miracle catch!" shouted a buyer, already waving a checkbook.
"My God… look at the size of those claws!" a chef muttered, wide-eyed, his hands twitching as though already imagining the dishes he could create.
The captain stood proudly before the stunned crowd, his voice booming.
"Seven giants, hauled from the storm itself! The first of their kind, Aten-fed by the sea. Tonight, history changes — and we were the ones to seize it!"
The remaining six crabs were hauled down in turn, each one greeted with shouts of awe. Dockworkers climbed onto crates to see better, while children tried to touch the glittering shells before being pulled back by frantic parents.
Buyers shouted over one another, their offers climbing with each new crab revealed.
"Two million for the largest!"
"Three! I'll pay three!"
"Four! For my restaurant in Tokyo — I'll take it no matter the price!"
Chefs whispered feverishly, some near tears at the thought of cooking such creatures. One Michelin-starred chef clasped his hands together like a prayer.
"With this… we can create dishes the world has never known."
Reporters were already broadcasting live, their voices trembling with excitement.
"Ladies and gentlemen, what we are witnessing may well mark the beginning of a new oceanic era. These are not the crabs of yesterday — they are colossal, mana-rich creatures born of the Aten sea. And they are here, now, in our ports."
The captain let them roar, let them clamor, then raised his hand for silence.
"These are only the first. The sea holds more. Tonight, the storm gave us seven. Tomorrow, who knows what else awaits?"
The crowd surged into chaos once more, buyers desperate, chefs ecstatic, reporters screaming into microphones. And in the midst of it all, the colossal crabs gleamed like treasures, their golden sheen promising fortune, glory, and a new taste of the future.
As the dock boiled with excitement, news spread faster than the tide. Within hours, the footage of the seven colossal crabs was already on every screen across the world. The shimmering shells, the claws as long as a man's body, the promise of flavor unlike anything before — it was enough to ignite a frenzy.
But beyond chefs and buyers, governments were watching.
In Washington, a terse statement was issued:
"The United States considers Alaskan waters and their resources vital to national security. Unauthorized exploitation by foreign entities will be considered a direct threat."
In Ottawa, Canada's prime minister appeared on camera, speaking more carefully but no less firmly:
"We must protect our fisheries. These are not only treasures of the sea but part of our people's livelihood. Canada will not tolerate illegal incursions."
And in Moscow, the message was blunt.
"The North Pacific is ours to guard. Let no foreigner think otherwise."
Even before these announcements hit the evening broadcasts, the seas themselves were stirring.
Satellite images revealed fleets mobilizing — American destroyers and patrol ships moving north, Canadian vessels deploying from British Columbia, Russian trawlers and escorts slipping quietly out of Vladivostok. Officially, their missions were "to protect maritime resources from smugglers and poachers." Unofficially, it was clear: no one would allow outsiders to steal what Aten rice had awakened.
Fishermen at the Alaskan ports whispered nervously as military ships appeared on the horizon, their silhouettes stark against the gray waters. The captain of the crab ship squinted at them and muttered to his crew:
"The world's waking up to what we've seen. And they'll fight for it, mark my words."
Reporters, sensing the tension, shifted their questions from chefs to admirals, from buyers to ministers. The story of the colossal crabs was no longer just culinary — it was strategic, geopolitical.
What had begun as a miracle catch was now a spark on the ocean, and nations were drawing their lines in the water.
Within days, one of the colossal Alaskan crabs was carefully transported under heavy security to New York City. The event was billed not as a simple sale, but as history: the first public tasting of the Aten-fed Alaskan crab.
At the venue — a luxury hotel ballroom transformed into a kitchen-theater — the atmosphere buzzed with anticipation. Billionaires, celebrity chefs, journalists, and diplomats filled the hall. The massive crab rested on a bed of ice under bright lights, its claws wider than a man's shoulders, its carapace gleaming faintly as if polished by the sea itself.
When the auctioneer began, the room exploded with raised paddles.
"Five million dollars!" shouted one buyer.
"Ten!" countered another.
The numbers climbed at a dizzying pace until finally a tech billionaire from Silicon Valley secured the prize for 38 million dollars. Cameras flashed as he stepped forward, grinning broadly.
"I want to taste it first," he declared, handing the colossal creature over to the team of chefs assembled.
The head chef, a man with Michelin stars across three continents, bowed deeply. His knives glimmered under the spotlight as he began to list the menu he would prepare:
Steamed crab legs with mana-infused butter.Crab sashimi, thin slices glistening with golden streaks.Crab fried rice, cooked in the crab's own juices.A delicate crab soufflé.
The billionaire leaned forward eagerly as the first plate was served — a simple steamed leg, the meat white and glistening, faint wisps of mana shimmering in the steam. He bit into it, and silence fell.
His eyes widened.
"This… this is beyond flavor. It's soft, sweet, and powerful at the same time. It tastes alive."
Reporters scribbled furiously, and cameras zoomed in as he devoured another bite. Chefs around the room exchanged looks of reverent disbelief.
Then the head chef stepped forward again, holding up the crab's massive shell.
"Sir," he said respectfully, "may I use this? The carapace still carries essence. With it, I can prepare a mana soup unlike anything the world has ever tasted."
The billionaire hesitated only for a second, then laughed.
"Do it. I bought the crab — but let the world taste what it can truly become."
The chef's team rushed into motion, flames rising, broth simmering, the golden shell becoming the vessel of a dish that would soon define an era.
The ballroom was silent except for the bubbling of the colossal crab's shell-turned-cauldron. Steam rose in golden ribbons, carrying with it an aroma so intoxicating that even seasoned chefs found themselves trembling. It was the scent of the sea distilled into perfection — mana, ocean wind, and life itself woven into a broth.
The chef ladled the glowing soup into a porcelain bowl and set it reverently before the billionaire. Reporters leaned in, cameras flashing, millions watching the livestream in breathless anticipation.
The man raised the bowl, inhaled, and drank.
At first there was only silence. His eyes widened, his lips parted, and then he exhaled a sound halfway between a sigh and a laugh. "Delicious…" he whispered.
But then — it began.
Before the stunned audience, his hair shimmered as if catching invisible light. The short, styled strands loosened and stretched, sliding past his ears, past his shoulders, down to his chest in smooth waves of shining black. Reporters screamed. Cameramen surged forward. The billionaire froze, wide-eyed, as his reflection in the polished crab shell showed him transformed.
Gasps filled the hall.
"His hair… it's growing!"
"It's—beautiful!"
"No, impossible—this is evolution!"
Strand by strand, his hair thickened and lengthened, glowing faintly as if infused with gold dust. Within moments, it brushed his waist, a lustrous mane so perfect it seemed sculpted by divine hands. The man shook his head in disbelief, the motion sending a cascade of shining locks spilling like a waterfall around him.
The chef stepped forward, trembling.
"This is not just food. This… this is awakening."
The billionaire set the bowl down with trembling fingers. His voice, steadier now, carried across the hall.
"This soup does not merely nourish. It changes us. You've all seen it — the sea itself has been reborn. And now, so are we."
The hall erupted — applause, shouts, reporters firing questions. The livestream comments exploded worldwide:
"Hair growth LIVE on camera!!"
"Mana soup is real!!"
"The sea gives beauty and power!"
Some guests rushed forward to taste, desperate for their turn. Others sat frozen, awed by what they had just witnessed.
The first public tasting of colossal Aten-fed crab had become more than a meal. It was the birth of a legend — soup that could transform flesh, beauty, and life itself before the eyes of the world.