Several days had passed since that dawn in the nocturnal garden. Ash had lost track of time within the dream realm, immersed in a routine that, though dangerous, was strangely comforting. A full week of nightly hunts, exploration of uncharted territories, and most importantly, constant strengthening.
His soul fragment collection rate had improved significantly. Constant practice with his [Ghostly Body] ability allowed him to move with a fluidity he hadn't possessed before, and his [Soul Guide] had become more precise, enabling him to locate creatures hidden in the deepest shadows of the garden.
But it wasn't all about hunting abominations. Ash had also become an invaluable asset to the masters and saints of the Dream Escape. His ability to detect threats, thanks to his ghostly nature, made him the perfect explorer. He could venture into areas where other Awakened dared not go, identify creatures that required the intervention of higher ranks, and return with detailed reports that saved lives.
That morning, however, something was different.
Ash was resting on the branches of a colossal tree, his eyes half-closed as he watched the horizon of the Storm Sea. The sun rose lazily, tinting the waves with a faint orange that reflected on the restless surface of the water. Priscilla, as was her custom, had settled at the base of the tree, flipping through a book of memories she had found on one of her expeditions.
"Ash, when are you going to tell me what happened with Sunny?" the girl asked without looking up from the book. "Days have passed and you still have that same mysterious look."
"Soon," he replied, his voice distracted.
"'Soon' isn't an answer. You've been saying 'soon' for a week now."
Ash didn't respond. His attention had completely shifted toward something happening on the horizon. At first it was just a feeling, a tingling at the back of his neck that told him something wasn't right. But quickly it transformed into something more concrete, more terrifying.
He felt a presence.
It wasn't alive. It wasn't dead either. It was something in between, something that moved on the boundaries of existence, dragging with it a weight that made Ash's soul instinctively contract. It was as if reality itself tensed around that thing, as if the dream world was trying to reject its presence.
Ash stood up on the branch, his body tense. The mist that always accompanied him swirled around him, denser than usual, as if it too felt the threat.
"Ash, what's happening?" Priscilla closed the book, lifting her gaze toward him.
He didn't respond. His eyes were fixed on the horizon, where a faint green mist was beginning to spread across the surface of the Storm Sea. It was an unnatural fog, bright in some places, dark in others, moving with deliberate slowness, as if it had a will of its own.
Ash concentrated, sharpening his perception. He could feel something moving inside that mist, something enormous and ancient.
"What do you see?" Priscilla insisted, her voice now more serious.
Ash didn't answer. He kept staring intently at the mist, waiting, watching. And then he saw it.
Emerging slowly from the green veil, the silhouette of a ship appeared. It wasn't just any ship. It was an ancient mass of dark, rotting wood, with tattered sails that waved like ghosts in the wind. Its size was colossal, easily twice that of the Dream Escape, and its presence radiated a sense of abandonment and death that chilled the blood.
The ship moved slowly, like a specter wandering without direction, but Ash knew that wasn't the case. It was heading directly toward them.
"Priscilla," he said finally, his voice tense. "Alert the others. I'm going to find Typhaon."
Without waiting for a response, Ash summoned his echo. The [Black Steel Crow] appeared in the air, its metallic wings gleaming in the morning light. Ash leaped, landing on the crow's back, and in an instant they were soaring through the skies.
The journey to the saint's office was brief but intense. Ash could feel the ship's presence growing on the horizon, like a stain spreading slowly. The green mist now covered a considerable portion of the sea, and although they were still several kilometers away, the sense of danger was overwhelming.
Ash landed on the deck of the Dream Escape and ran toward the main mast. He climbed the stairs two at a time, ignoring the looks of the Awakened who watched him pass in confusion. He reached the saint's office out of breath and opened the door without knocking.
Inside, Typhaon was in the middle of a meeting with several aspect masters. His severe expression hardened at the interruption.
"Ashfall, this is a private meeting," said the saint, his voice sharp. "What gives you the right to interrupt without permission?"
"Sage Typhaon," Ash replied, breathing heavily. "Something strange is happening. A few kilometers from here."
The masters exchanged glances. Typhaon observed him carefully, his gaze piercing.
"What kind of something?"
Ash straightened up, his eyes meeting the saint's without faltering.
"A green mist is covering the sea. And inside it... there's a ship. An ancient, enormous ship, moving as if it were dead yet alive at the same time. It carries something inside, something... terrifying. It's a presence that doesn't belong to this world, not even to this dream realm."
Silence fell over the room. Typhaon stood up slowly, his face paling in a way Ash had never seen before. The masters also rose, their expressions a mix of disbelief and fear.
"Distance?" asked Typhaon, his voice tense.
"Ten kilometers to the northwest," Ash replied. "It's heading toward us. Quickly."
Typhaon nodded, his jaw clenched. Without a word, he turned to the masters and gave an order that resonated throughout the room.
"Activate the combat alarms. All Awakened must be in position for battle. This is not a drill."
The masters moved with efficiency, leaving the office to transmit the orders. Within seconds, the sirens began to sound throughout the Dream Escape, a deep, repetitive sound that chilled the blood. Ash could hear the chaos below, the shouts of Awakened running to their posts, the metallic clang of weapons being drawn.
Typhaon approached Ash, his face now somber.
"Prepare yourself," he said. "This is going to be worse than you imagine."
"What's happening?" Ash asked, his voice firm but with a note of concern. "What is that ship?"
Typhaon looked at him for a long moment, as if evaluating how much he could tell him. Finally, he sighed and spoke.
"It's called The Dutchman. Every year, without fail, it appears in the Storm Sea. We don't know where it comes from or why it chooses this place. But it always comes. And it always brings death and destruction."