The treasure room pulsed with a faint bioluminescence—like the belly of some deep-sea creature holding its breath. I stepped forward, eyes scanning the relics arranged in a ring around a barnacle-encrusted dais. The light from the chamber flickered over their faces, casting the group in ghost light. My gaze settled on a small, gnarled compass sealed beneath a glass dome.
It ticked. Once. Then again. Its needle spun lazily before locking dead center on me. "The Barnacle-Eyed Compass," Oria whispered, reading the coral-etched plaque. I reached in and removed it. The compass blinked. Literally. The central eye cracked open like a mollusk revealing an iris of storm grey, and my Animus stirred uncomfortably.
It pulsed in my hand.
"Not creepy at all," I muttered. But I kept it. Riggs, meanwhile, was already crouched by a cylindrical glass tube within a scroll. "Ah-ha," he said, his old fingers tracing the glass like a cartographer in love. "Now this... this is my kind of treasure." Inside, a golden intent-thread web glowed faintly—forming what looked like a fragment of the inheritance itself. A map. No—a living map, its lines shifting like currents. "Delta King's Map Fragment," he read aloud. "Shows the layout… and more. But…"
He turned to the others. "Everyone. A drop of blood. That's the price." Oria pricked her fingertip without hesitation. I followed. Felicity had no need to prick her finger as her entire goo body was made from blood, smiling, she offered a pink-tinged drop from one of her tendrils. The moment the blood sank into the scroll, the map expanded slightly—revealing an uncharted quadrant in pale red ink. Riggs grinned. "Now that's a gift worth bleeding for."
Felicity slinked toward a pedestal lined in rough coral and brittle bone.
"AHU," she cooed. "These are divine." She slid the Bone Coral Bracers onto her forearms. The coral shimmered faintly, then tightened gently to her skin like living armor. Her parasitic nerves flared in satisfaction. Suddenly, her feelers twitched—something else nearby. She turned and saw a tiny shell at the edge of the treasure circle. At first, it looked like debris. But it hummed with memory.
"A Mind pearl!..." she said softly, lifting the tiny, gleaming sphere. "Hmm… Ash?" she called, tossing it to me gently. I caught it, feeling a strange familiarity buzz through my palm. "It remembers what it sees," Felicity said, smirking. "So now you can be creepy in real-time." Oria's attention was elsewhere. A cloak, draped across a driftwood stand, shimmered with colors that matched her eyes—blue, green, a hint of violet.
She took it reverently. It fluttered before settling over her shoulders like it had always been there. "The tide worn cloak," she whispered. "It Fits you," Felicity said cheerfully. Then came the final piece. At the center of the treasure circle sat an unassuming chest. Brass clasps. A lock shaped like a pirate's grin. It did not move. But… the air close to it seemed to bend slightly.
It exhaled.
Captain Riggs squinted. "Do we really wanna bring a mimic chest with us?" he asked, deadpan. We all stared at it. The chest twitched again. I tilted my head, "It's got a riddle lock." Felicity cocked a hip. "If we get it wrong?" "Could curse us," Riggs said. "Or explode," Oria offered. "Or make us tell the truth for a week," Felicity added, horrified. I stepped closer. The mimic made a soft purring noise. "There's gotta be a reason this Inheritance room offered it. We bring it," I said finally.
Felicity groaned. "Why am I not surprised." I stored the mind pearl Into my spirit bracelet. The spiral stairway pulsed underfoot as I and the others ascended, shadows from the glowing map scroll casting ghost-threads across the stone. We emerged into a vast open arena, circular and cracked with age. Jagged coral outcroppings jutted from the floor like broken teeth.
Salted wind howled from unseen vents, and high above, ghostly chains rattled in the gloom—suspended platforms creaked in the heights, some broken, some drifting like forgotten gallows. I stepped forward. The mimic chest shuffled behind us, dragging its stubby legs like a disgruntled crate. Then came laughter. Deep. Raucous. From a shattered stone archway across the arena strode Hammer head, all seven feet of him, shirtless, his bronze skin glistening. His head was flat and broad, his forehead lined with natural plating. He grasped a massive yellow saw-fish snout blade, "I didn't see him enter the inheritance with that weapon" I said.
Behind him came his brutal-looking crew—tide-callers, Tiger-shark mercs, and a towering harpooner with iron piercings along her arms. Before anyone could reply, another gateway burst open—stone serpents slithering aside. Out stepped Snake Man, all lean grace and sinuous menace. His five limb-bound serpents hissed in eerie unison, and the temperature seemed to drop. Behind him, Rukka, blindfolded and unreadable, drifted like incense smoke. Sacilia, wrapped in scaled silks and wearing venom-green lip paint, flashed a grin of far too many teeth.
The air went taut.
Felicity curled her fingers, feelers flicking with anticipation. Oria stepped forward, her tide worn cloak fluttering, hand resting on her scabbard. Snake Man's voice broke the silence, soft and slithering. "Five claimants. One arena. A taste of the Delta King's old hunger." Hammer head grinned, cracking his knuckles. "Don't suppose we all sing songs and walk away friendly-like?" Riggs scoffed, adjusting his gloves. "You ever known pirates to do that?" My grip on the barnacle-eyed compass tightened. The needle spun wildly before pointing at the arena's center.
Suddenly, the mimic chest let out a deep burp.
Everyone paused.
It hiccuped, then growled faintly.
"…Is that thing armed?" Sacilia asked, pointing with a poisoned nail. "It's alive," Felicity offered helpfully. Snake Man tilted his head, curious. The arena floor began to glow, runes flaring to life beneath Our feet. A ghostly voice, ancient and war-slick, echoed from all directions. "Prove your worth. To ascend, claim the king's favor through blood, steel, and cunning." The stone ring in the center rose, forming a platform of shifting plates and watery glyphs.
Six rings. Six slots. Three crews. Three teams. I narrowed my eyes. "It's another trial." Oria drew her blade. "And we just met our competition." Hammer head roared with laughter again, slapping his knee. "Well, well," Hammer head rumbled, voice like rocks in a barrel. "Looks like we got ourselves a little Mexican stand-off." Snake Man said nothing—but his serpents twisted in perfect unison, forming a coiled sigil behind him.
I stepped forward my crew at my back.
Round Two had begun.