Leaning against the Azure Leviathan's ragged, weather-worn scales, Vale gazed up at the endless blue sky, his expression caught somewhere between calm and detachment. The creature's hide was scarred and uneven, each scale jagged like broken stone, yet the great beast moved with a steady, almost gentle rhythm beneath him.
They had been traveling for nearly two hours now.
Strangely, the relief Vale had felt earlier, when the desert was finally behind them and the sea stretched open and free, had slowly been replaced by something far less comforting. Questions. Heavy ones. Questions he had never allowed himself the time to face.
With a quiet groan, Vale shifted and laid himself flat on his back atop the Leviathan. The rough scales pressed painfully against him, biting through his leather armor, though not enough to pierce it. He winced, then exhaled, deciding the discomfort was preferable to the noise in his mind.
Folding his hands beneath his head, he closed his eyes and let the ocean wind wash over his face.
There were two things, two moments that he had acknowledged far too little for how profoundly strange they were. Only now, in this rare stretch of calm, did he truly realize it.
The first was the woman bathed entirely in light, the one he had encountered while falling through that endless, black void. Her presence alone had defied explanation. No shadow clung to her. No form seemed fully solid. She had felt less like a person and more like an idea given shape.
The second was the voice.
The voice from his dream.
Vale's brow furrowed as memory stirred. In that dream, nothing had existed but darkness… and eyes. Vast, unblinking eyes, azure blue, ringed with a thin circle of burning orange. They had not belonged to any face, any body. Just eyes, watching him with unsettling clarity.
The words echoed again in his mind, as vivid as the moment they were spoken.
'You do not belong here.'
And the reply that followed, spoken by that same strange presence:
'Who am I not?'
Vale inhaled slowly through his nose.
Neither voice had sounded human. They had mimicked human speech, copied its cadence and tone, but something fundamental was missing. As if whatever had spoken was wearing language like a poorly fitted mask.
Thinking back to the woman of light, Vale found himself forming a tentative conclusion. A fragile one, but the only explanation that seemed to fit.
'A god… or something close to it.'
Her radiance, her certainty, her utter detachment from the laws of the world, it all pointed toward a higher existence. Something ancient. Something far beyond him.
The eyes, however… those were different.
They unsettled him in a way the woman never had.
Whoever, or whatever, they belonged to had spoken as though it were everyone at once. Or perhaps everything. The meaning had been vast, overwhelming, and impossibly vague.
Could he believe such a voice?
Vale let out a slow, weary sigh.
There was no answer to that question. Not yet. Perhaps not ever.
Still, one thing felt certain: those eyes had appeared because of him. Whether as a warning, a test, or something far worse, he could not say, but they were connected to him. Of that, he was almost sure.
At last, Vale opened his eyes and immediately turned his head away with a sharp hiss as the rising sun crested the horizon, its brilliance burning against his vision. He blinked rapidly until the spots faded, then squinted past the glare.
The city was closer now.
Massive buildings rose from the distant coastline, their silhouettes sharpening with every passing minute. They were only a few kilometers away at most. But what truly stole Vale's breath was the tower.
It spiraled skyward near the edge of the kingdom, colossal and elegant, tapering into a faint point that nearly vanished into the clouds. Its presence dominated the skyline, unmistakable even from this distance.
Vale slowly sat up, eyes wide, unable to tear his gaze away.
'That's where we're going,' he realized.
The Leviathan's course confirmed it, gliding steadily toward the tower's distant shadow.
For a long moment, Vale simply admired it, the craftsmanship, the scale, the sheer audacity of building something so immense. Then he glanced to his side.
Eskar sat with his eyes closed, face tense with concentration. His arms glowed a faint, vivid orange as heat radiated from his palms into the crimson egg cradled carefully against his chest. The shell shimmered slightly under the warmth, alive in a way that sent a strange comfort through Vale's chest.
Vale allowed himself a weak smile before looking forward again.
His gaze lingered on Drago.
The tall man stood near the Leviathan's head, unmoving, his posture relaxed despite the enormity of the beast beneath him. Vale's eyes narrowed.
He still didn't understand him.
Why help them? Truly help them? Dagon had nothing to gain, if anything, he had admitted that escorting them only increased his risk. He could have traveled alone. He should have.
So why didn't he?
Vale exhaled quietly.
Not everything in this world was about gain. He knew that. Yet with Drago… it felt different. Purposeful. Intentional.
The man was a mystery Vale couldn't yet solve.
Suddenly, water erupted violently off to their right.
Vale snapped his head around just in time to see something massive burst from the ocean's surface, a large fish clamped tightly in its jaws. The creature was enormous, far smaller than the Leviathan, but still easily a fifth of its size.
It looked like a grotesque hybrid: the body of a great fish fused with the winged frame of a wyvern. Its wings spread wide as it skimmed across the water's surface, powerful yet awkward, clearly incapable of true flight.
Vale stared, stunned.
Drago's voice broke the silence, calm and measured.
"Shallow-water mare wyverns," he said. "They travel in groups. Among ocean predators, they're comparable to orcas."
Vale frowned slightly, watching the lone creature. "So… it's hunting?" he asked.
Drago studied the mare wyvern for a long moment before responding.
"No," he said slowly. "If it were hunting, it wouldn't be alone."
He paused.
"If I had to guess," he continued, voice darkening slightly, "I'd say it's being hunted."
Vale's eyes widened.
As if summoned by the words, the sea itself seemed to split open. A colossal shape surged upward, an onyx-black shark encased in jagged, stone-like armor. In an instant, it launched itself from the waves, jaws yawning wide.
They clamped shut around the mare wyvern.
The wyvern shrieked, a piercing, desperate sound, as it struggled, wings thrashing uselessly. But the armored shark dragged it down with terrifying force, the ocean swallowing both in a violent churn of foam and blood.
Then, silence followed.
The waves settled.
Vale swallowed hard, his heart pounding.
The ocean, he realized once again, was never peaceful. It merely waited.
Vale's eyes widened, confusion flickering plainly across his face as he turned back toward Drago.
"Didn't you just say they were the orcas of this realm?" Vale asked, disbelief edging into his voice.
In his world, orcas were the undisputed apex predators of the ocean, hunters feared by everything that swam beneath the waves. The comparison alone should have meant absolute dominance. His confusion was more than justified.
Drago did not look back at him. His gaze remained fixed on the towering structure ahead, the immense spire slowly growing larger as they approached.
"I did," Drago replied calmly. "However, in this realm, being compared to an orca does not grant you safety." He paused briefly. "It merely means you are less likely to be hunted."
Vale blinked.
Then, after a moment, he let out a short, incredulous chuckle. "Of course," he muttered, the words heavy with dry acceptance.
He leaned forward, resting his chin against his fist as he settled back into a seated position. Slowly, almost absentmindedly, Vale drew his onyx blade from its sheath. The dark metal caught the light faintly, reflecting the sky and sea in warped, shifting patterns.
His own reflection was nowhere to be seen, just as always.
That absence, that familiar nothingness, brought an unexpected smile to his face. A strange one. Quiet. Personal.
After a moment, he slid the blade back into place and rose to his feet once more.
The tower loomed before them now, no longer a distant landmark but a monumental presence. Its stonework spiraled upward in massive rings, etched with faint runes and architectural patterns too intricate to appreciate from afar. They were only a few hundred meters away.
Vale glanced down toward Drago. The city ahead was eerily silent. No shouting. No clamor. No chaos.
He noticed it, but chose not to ask.
Instead, he tilted his head slightly. "So," Vale said, voice measured, "what are the chances of us being hunted?"
Drago let out a low, bitter chuckle. "Low," he answered. "Unless the Goliath of the Reef decides to take a personal interest in us as a meal."
Vale's eyes widened briefly at that. Then, rather than panic, he simply tilted his head, filing the name away for later concern.
Before he could ask anything else, a deep, resonant ringing echoed through the air.
Bells.
Vale turned sharply toward the heart of the Kingdom of Irea. What he saw made his breath catch.
A massive port sprawled along the coastline, carved directly into the stone. Enormous ships lined the docks, far larger than any Vale had seen before, each one being loaded with cargo. From this distance, he couldn't make out what was being moved, only the steady, coordinated motion of cranes, pulleys, and workers.
Then a roar tore through the sky.
Vale looked up just in time to see the heavens filled with motion.
Massive birds with wingspans broader than city streets soared overhead. Dragons, wyverns, and countless other winged creatures circled above the stone buildings, their shadows sweeping across rooftops like living storms. Some descended toward the docks, landing with thunderous force, while others vanished between towers and spires.
The sight was overwhelming.
And then, darkness.
A vast shadow swallowed the harbor and skyline as they passed beneath a colossal stone overhang. Vale's eyes widened slightly as he realized they were entering a cavern.
A massive cave yawned open beneath the tower itself, its mouth carved smooth and deliberate, clearly shaped by design rather than erosion. The Leviathan glided effortlessly inside, water echoing softly against the cavern walls.
The world behind them vanished.
Torchlight and glowing crystals ignited along the interior, illuminating the cavern in deep blues and golds as the tower rose directly from its center like the spine of a god.
Vale smirked faintly.
He turned toward Drago, curiosity and awe mingling in his expression. "So," he said, "we've arrived, huh?"
Drago did not return his glance.
The Azure Leviathan finally slowed, then came to a complete stop. The water settled, rippling gently around them.
After a moment, Drago gave a slow, deliberate nod.
"Yes," he said quietly.