Akem inhaled sharply.
Saltwater burned his lungs as his chest convulsed, forcing a violent gasp into the open air. He coughed, hacking up brine, his throat raw, his vision blurred by tears he didn't remember crying.
The last thing he remembered was drowning.
Cold hands dragging him downward. The crushing pressure of the depths. The tightening chain around his neck and torso. The panic. The darkness.
And then—nothing.
Now, he floated.
The chain still wrapped around him, heavy and rusted, biting into his skin. Instinctively, he clenched his fists and pulled.
Snap.
The metal shattered with almost no resistance, fragments sinking away like meaningless debris.
Akem stared at his hands.
His heart pounded.
He turned, scanning the horizon—and his breath caught.
Boats.
Large ones.
Smaller ones.
A formation moving toward Maroo.
Memories slammed into him.
The invasion. The screams. The bodies. The fear.
Akem's chest tightened as emotion surged violently upward.
"No…" he whispered.
The word shattered into a scream.
"NOOO!"
Tears streamed down his face, blurring the world. The ocean rippled beneath him as his cry tore through the air. His grief, rage, and terror fused into something primal—something vast.
Then the sea behind him rose.
A wall of water surged upward without warning, towering over him like a living mountain.
Akem turned too late.
The wave crashed forward with unstoppable force, swallowing the largest vessel whole.
Wood splintered.
Metal screamed.
Men shouted.
Then silence.
The ship vanished beneath the surface, dragged into the deep.
Akem froze.
His breath hitched.
"…Did I… do that?"
His hands trembled.
The sea around him responded—subtle at first, then unmistakable. Small ripples followed the motion of his fingers. A current swirled when he turned his wrist.
Realization struck.
He wasn't just floating.
He was commanding the ocean.
Seven smaller boats advanced toward Maroo—each capable of carrying around ten soldiers, armed and desperate, pushing forward despite what they had just witnessed.
Akem stared at them.
Fear lingered in his chest.
Then resolve replaced it.
He raised his hands slowly.
The waves obeyed.
Water surged upward, bending to his will like a symphony answering its conductor. Currents twisted, rising, curling, and colliding exactly where he intended.
Akem felt it instantly.
The ocean wasn't resisting him.
It welcomed him.
He guided the waves with increasing confidence—adjusting their size, speed, direction. Each movement felt more natural than the last, as if his body had been waiting for this his entire life.
He clenched his jaw.
The waves crashed down.
The seven boats shattered.
Wood exploded into fragments.
Men screamed as the sea consumed them.
Some tried to flee.
Others thrashed helplessly.
Akem didn't watch them die.
Instead, he moved.
The water lifted him forward, propelling him faster than any creature in the ocean. He skimmed the surface, riding the currents, scanning the horizon for the main vessel.
His heart burned with urgency.
He had to stop it.
But there was nothing.
Only distant mist.
Only scattered wreckage.
Only emptiness.
"…It's gone," he muttered.
Unbeknownst to him, the primary ship had already reached the distant continent of Alcazar, carrying with it plans, survivors, and the seeds of future war.
But another ship remained.
A secondary vessel—massive, towering, a mountain of steel and wood upon the sea.
At its helm stood Vice Captain Darlington.
Akem stopped.
He stared at the colossal warship.
If these vessels were mountains upon the ocean… then what he was about to summon would be a god's wrath.
He lifted both hands.
The sea responded violently.
Water surged outward in a massive spiral, gathering power. The surface trembled as currents twisted upward, feeding into a single rising column.
A wave formed.
Then grew.
Then grew more.
It climbed higher than anything Akem had ever seen—ten times the height of the ship, stretching toward the sky, its crest nearly touching the heavens.
Lightning flickered inside the storm clouds forming above.
The ocean roared like a living beast.
Akem's eyes widened.
Even he was shocked by what he had created.
"…What am I?" he whispered.
The wave collapsed forward.
Impact.
The ship disintegrated.
Steel tore apart.
Decks shattered.
Masts snapped.
The entire vessel was ripped into pieces in seconds, buried beneath crushing depths and violent currents.
Then—
Silence.
The sea calmed.
The storm dissipated.
The water smoothed as though nothing had happened.
Not a single rogue wave traveled toward Maroo.
Not a drop touched its shores.
Akem floated there, shaking.
The ocean around him felt… still.
Respectful.
As if acknowledging him.
Far away, the people of Maroo stood on the shoreline.
They saw the ships sink.
They saw the impossible waves.
They saw the sea itself bow.
Whispers spread.
Fear.
Awe.
Hope.
A single name began to form among them.
Akem.
The boy who drowned.
The boy who returned.
The boy who now commanded the sea.
When Akem finally swam back, carried by currents that felt like invisible hands, the survivors gathered along the coast.
Some stared in terror.
Some fell to their knees.
Some wept in gratitude.
Akem stepped onto the shore, water streaming from his clothes, his breath unsteady, his heart heavy.
"I didn't want this," he murmured.
He looked at his hands again.
Hands that had just sunk fleets.
Hands that had just ended lives.
Hands that now carried the weight of a nation's survival.
A leader among the survivors approached cautiously.
"…Maroo still stands because of you," the man said. "If you had not acted… we would be gone."
Akem swallowed hard.
"I'm not a hero," he replied quietly. "I'm just someone who refused to drown."
Silence lingered.
Then he turned toward the horizon.
"Those ships weren't here by accident," he said. "And after what I've done… they won't stop."
His voice hardened.
"This war is only beginning."
The wind shifted.
The ocean whispered.
Far beyond Maroo, across stars and continents, forces moved in response to what had happened.
In Alcazar, news of the destroyed fleet spread like wildfire.
In Shan, strategists recalculated their plans.
In Rukan, elders spoke of prophecy.
And somewhere in the depths of existence, something ancient noticed Akem.
The Tidebearer had awakened.
And the universe would never be the same.