The scent of brine and salt clung to the air, seeping into every polished plank of the Blue Avenger. Within the captain's cabin, a lantern swung lightly above a broad table. Its flame danced over parchment, casting shadows across a meticulous map of the Fog Sea's treacherous waters. Pins marked each stretch of safe passage carved through the gray-white mists, an ever-growing chain inching closer to the Western Continent.
Alger Wilson stood over it, one hand resting on the hilt of his sword, the other pressed to the edge of the table. His eyes, sharp and weathered, traced the plotted course with silent calculation.
They were halfway there.
Through repeated attempts, they progressively uncovered more of the route leading to the Western Continent. The seal, an immense expanse of shifting gray-white fog, disorienting and misleading, introduced mysterious changes and illusions, especially when stepping outside the safe track they had charted. This was because the seal weakened each year, giving them a rare opportunity to get closer as its grip gradually loosened.
Soon, Alger thought. One more year? Two? Less, if it keeps unraveling like this.
To his right, the Book of Calamity lay open, its old paper unmoving despite the gentle sway of the ship. The cabin's warm lantern light made its ink shimmer faintly. It was always waiting and watching. He didn't need to read the words; they were already burned into his memory.
Alger let out a slow breath, his gaze narrowing on the edge of the Western Continent drawn on the map.
Cohinem, he thought. You promised an opening, and I can see the path taking shape, but you never said what we'd find on the other side.
That had been the deal: silence for direction, riddles for passage. The entity hadn't lied; Alger had the progress to prove it. But truths wrapped in silence had a way of cutting deeper than any deception.
Whatever's seeping through that seal, it's more than just sea wind and faint echoes.
He closed the book gently, its weight heavier than the leather binding suggested.
A knock tapped at the door.
"Enter."
A young sailor stepped in, rain slicker half-buttoned and boots still damp. "Cap'n, the lookouts say the path's still clearin'. Fog's pullin' back just like we figured."
Alger gave a curt nod. "Good. Continue observations. Report any fluctuation in the wind's direction, however minor."
"Aye, Captain." The sailor bowed out.
Alger returned his gaze to the map, eyes tracing a potential arc that skirted the Highland's outer reefs. The candle's flame danced beside the Book of Calamity, its page edges still unnervingly still.
Then the air shimmered faintly. A soft, cold-blue glow pulsed into existence before Alger's desk. A jellyfish, transparent, crystalline, with countless drifting tendrils, materialized soundlessly. Its entire form radiated the frigid clarity of the deep sea, refracting the lamplight in spectral fragments across the room.
This was Ongla, Miss Judgement's messenger.
Alger's brows lifted slightly in recognition. The creature hovered gently, as if afloat in invisible tides, its tentacles curling and weaving with unhurried grace. One of them was wrapped around a sealed envelope. The jellyfish made no sound, It merely waited.
Alger stood still for a breath, watching the divine stillness of the creature. He stepped forward and accepted the letter from the offered tendril with care. Ongla lingered a second longer, its tendrils wavering as if tasting the air, then vanished in a ripple of faint cold.
The room dimmed slightly after its absence.
Alger turned the envelope over once, then broke the seal and unfolded the letter. His gaze skimmed across the words:
"To the Hanged Man,
We managed to stop the Rose School of Thought's plan, and the Card's been secured.
My Minor Arcana, the Ace of Swords, is on the way to Bayam with it.
It's being handled, but it's not exactly hidden. Keep an eye out.
Judgement"
Alger let out a slow breath, his fingers tightening slightly at the corners of the parchment. Then he turned toward the desk's lantern, passing the letter through the flame. It curled almost instantly, blackening, then disintegrating into ash with no trace of lingering scent.
He didn't blink. Only watched it vanish.
"So she succeeded," he muttered. A faint edge of approval marked his tone, then a slight shift into contemplation.
He glanced again toward the map, and then toward the Berserk Sea, still quiet but too quiet.
But before further thought could form, the Blue Avenger bucked hard. A lurch ran through the hull, accompanied by a distant, rolling tremor. The lantern swung wildly.
Alger's expression stiffened. He moved swiftly, pushing open the door and ascending the deck ladder in seconds.
The wind howled louder here, and the ship's crew was already scrambling to stabilize the masts.
"What's happening?" Alger demanded.
One of the officers pointed east-northeast. "The sea beasts, sir! Big ones, bolted like hell, dove straight down 'fore we even saw 'em proper! Came from that way, water went mad 'fore they showed up!"
Another sailor shouted from the crow's nest, "There's another one, right ahead!"
A monstrous shape surged up from the sea, a titan of dark scales and pale eyes, moments from crashing over the ship.
But Alger stepped to the bow, his coat billowing behind him. His presence grew stronger. An immense weight radiated out in a wave that couldn't be seen.
The creature stood still.
The waters stopped moving. The wind died away.
Alger's presence bore down on the beast's soul. Its instincts sparked in panic, and it spun away violently, plunging into the depths with a spray that never reached the deck.
Silence hung for a moment and the sea shone, calm and still.
"Stay steady," Alger ordered. "We're clear."
The crew exhaled as one, returning to their posts. Alger, however, stared toward the east, where the waters churned into the Berserk Sea.
Creatures didn't flee from there. Not unless something worse had stirred.
He turned back to the helm, issuing new orders.
"We change course. Take a loop around the Highlands. I want eyes on the Berserk Sea, but we won't approach directly. Whatever startled them… let's avoid it for now."
And with that, the Blue Avenger banked gently, shifting course under the shadow of its captain.
…
The Future glided through the tranquil expanse of the Sonia Sea, its sails catching the sea breeze beneath a cloud-streaked sky. On the deck, the familiar rhythms of the Stars Pirates played out, the groaning of rigging, the shuffle of boots, and the occasional clatter of barrels being secured. Nina barked directions as she stood at the prow, scanning the horizon through a scope. Her blonde hair was tied in its usual high pigtail, swaying with each motion of the ship.
Ottolov crouched near a spread chart, his hand flicking between coordinates and notes from previous voyages. A few meters off, Heath Doyle stood in his usual half-dazed state, his gaunt cheeks and distant expression giving him an air of being only half-present.
Frank Lee, dungarees rolled up and shirt sleeves damp from something unmentionable, strode across the deck with a cheerful whistle. From that moment, starlight spilled across the deck.
A shimmering curtain peeled back the space just off the starboard rail. Within seconds, a small, unmanned boat glided forward, an impossible vessel emerging from nowhere. At its edge hovered a bridge made of starlight, luminous and ephemeral. From the end of that celestial path, a woman arrived.
Cattleya's black robes swayed gently with her steps, the symbols and inscriptions etched into them catching the light. Her thick glasses were gone, revealing eyes of deep violet hue, pupils tinged with black. She stepped from the bridge and onto the deck without a word.
"Captain on deck!" Nina called out sharply, bringing the nearest crew to attention.
Frank grinned, arms relaxed and placed on his hips. "Welcome back, Captain!"
Cattleya gave him a pointed look as she stepped past. "You didn't try crossbreeding the anchor with seaweed again, did you?"
Frank's grin widened. "Only once. For science."
She sighed. "Just tone it down before we reach Gargas."
Nina approached with a brief report. "Weather's been steady. We've sighted no warships, and the last merchant vessel was two days ago. No contact or sightings of the Queen of Ailment, King of Dusk, or the King of the Five Seas within a thousand nautical miles."
Cattleya acknowledged the report with another nod. "Maintain course to the Gargas Archipelago," she said, her voice as calm as the sea.
With that, she swept across the deck and entered her quarters.
Behind the cabin's reinforced door, the Queen of Stars finally relaxed. The future shimmered uncertainly in her mind's eye, but the past weighed heavier tonight.
Her brief return from Avalon was recent, minutes passed in the flow of this world. Yet in that place, time folded and turned inward.
Avalon, the hidden spire constructed from numbers, the sanctum of the Moses Ascetic Order, nestled not in this world or the next, but somewhere between, had granted her more than she hoped, though far less than she needed.
Golden apples hung from trees that only existed when observed. Music drifted through unseen corridors. The hall of numbers, the spire's heart, echoed with cold, staring eyes, each representing a truth she wasn't yet permitted to see.
She had spoken the entry code, 365 spiritual numbers in sequence, each vibrating with symbolic weight. Only those who had touched the Hidden Sage's ideology could comprehend the complexity. And as one of the Ten Pillars, she had earned entry. Her role, authorized by Mr. Fool, was to infiltrate the Order and learn more about the Hidden Sage. So far, she had managed to appear loyal. Still, true access and real secrets continued to evade her.
At her desk, Cattleya's eyes wandered to the corner where letters were usually kept. There was no sign of any new correspondence from Queen Mystic.
She frowned.
It had been weeks since the Queen Mystic last wrote. A slow, quiet ache stirred in her chest.
Although concern lingered in her chest, Cattleya took a steady breath and gently exhaled. She had vanished before, only to return with answers few could imagine. Whatever it was this time, she had faith the Queen Mystic could handle it. She always had.
Then it came, suddenly.
The familiar weight of a vision blooming behind her eyes, unbidden. Her breath caught as the world around her began to blur.
A thrum. Wet and steady. A heartbeat pounding in her ears.
Crimson spilled into view. A ship aflame, sails curling like paper. Fog rolled in, dense and oily, shrouding everything in a thick, opaque blanket. She heard screaming, shrieking, and the sound of waves breaking not against wood, but flesh.
The sky bled.
From the water, something rose. A hand, or what resembled one, webbed, clawed, vast beyond reason, stretching toward the burning vessel.
Pain stabbed through her skull like a blade.
Cattleya dropped to one knee, a low gasp escaping her. Blood welled beneath her nose. Her temples screamed. She fumbled blindly for her satchel and swept out a pinch of stardust powder, scattering it over herself with a trembling whisper.
The pain ebbed, numbed by the spell, but the images remained, seared into her mind's eye.
She stayed still for several long breaths before pushing herself upright, lips pale, gaze unfocused.
Something was wrong.
Without pause, she exited the cabin.
"Nina!" she barked. "New heading. Adjust the course southwest. Toward Bansy Island."
The crew scrambled, trained to move without delay when the Captain's voice took that tone.
Cattleya gazed out toward the sea, the horizon darkening with approaching clouds.
Something stirred in those waters and she intended to see it first.
…
The room was dimly lit, the gentle sway of the cruise ship causing the shadows to shift across the ceiling. Jack Layne, now as Alain Rouge, lay on the plush bed with a thick tome in hand, Emperor Roselle's Secret Chronicles. Nearby, Charlie stood, arms half-raised for something that wasn't there.
With one fluid motion, Jack set the book aside. He sat up, focusing on the Marionette.
The Marionette obeyed, hands moving with eerie precision as it grasped forward, reaching into the invisible folds of the void. Jack then used Fate Jamming and funneled the luck Charlie had gathered, letting it converge in this moment.
And finally, the marionette finally felt something between his fingers.
The air grew still. In the center of the room, a man stepped in, clad in a dark red coat, golden embroidery dancing along its edges. He had long chestnut curls, sharp features, and a noble posture.
Roselle Gustav.
A grin split Jack's face. His Marionette moved instantly, seizing the Spirit Body Threads with practiced ease. The projection of the Emperor stiffened, then stilled, its form becoming slack.
"Finally," Jack murmured, stepping forward. He raised a hand, and the Projection turned its glowing gaze upon him.
"Let's see what you're hiding."
With that single thought, Jack channeled the Projection with Mystical Re-enactment. Roselle's eyes shimmered with pale light, and a torrent of knowledge surged through Jack's mind.
The room pulsed faintly. A sudden surge of information bombarded Jack, crashing into his mind like a breaking tide. He staggered, gripping the edge of the bed, breath caught in his throat as his senses reeled.
A sudden surge of information bombarded Jack, crashing into his mind like a breaking tide. He staggered, gripping the edge of the bed, breath caught in his throat as his senses reeled.
But then came the laughter, low and breathless at first, then rising, filling the room with a fervent, near-maniacal glee.
"Yes… Yes, this is what I expecting!"
He gripped the Projection's shoulder tightly, steadying himself. His expression twisted into delighted resolve.
"Let's stretch your legs, shall we?"
With a shimmer of starlight and drifting bubbles, Jack and Roselle vanished.
Far above the open sea, where no eyes could see, and no one could interfere, they reappeared. Starlight shimmered around them like an astral cloak. The Projection hovered beside Jack, eyes glowing faintly.
It glanced downward. Another use of Mystical Re-enactment rippled out.
From the surface of the ocean, an island began to rise.
First, the tips of rocky outcroppings broke the waves. Then came moss-coated cliffs, ancient trees, and finally stone walkways covered in arcane patterns. A whole island, once submerged, emerged with a roar of displaced water.
Jack's eyes glittered with childlike joy. "Now this... this is where the fun begins."