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The Black Sea of Vehras.
Once, they believed the Black Sea was a gateway to the realm of the gods.
Now, no one dares speak the names of gods amidst these raging waves.
This storm... is no ordinary storm.
The sky is torn apart by unnatural violet lightning.
Winds spin like unseen claws, shredding the sails of any foolish ship that dares approach.
Amid the chaos, one battered iron ship holds its ground — The Solace, vessel of those few who still dare to defy the world.
---
The ship's command room is filled with the groaning of stressed metal and the roar of steam engines pushed far beyond their limits.
At the center, Vira Caelum stands tall, her face taut with tension.
Her protective cloak is soaked with briny vapor.
"Status?" she calls, voice sharp over the din.
Marin, the aged technician, shakes his head.
"Last signal... lost in the depths of the Abyss. The etheric tracking array is scrambled — wild energies below are corrupting all readings."
Across the room, Darius Kerta grips a steel railing.
The veteran's eyes — eyes that have witnessed more blood than any man should — now flicker with an unease he cannot conceal.
"This storm... it is not of nature."
Everyone in the room knows.
This is no simple storm — it is the world's reaction to something newly awakened deep within the Abyss.
---
Above deck, the ship is a battlefield.
Crewmen race about, shouting, tying down cables and chains.
Black lightning reflects off the waves, casting phantom shapes that mock the living.
"Monster!"
A cry from the stern.
From the dark depths, something claws its way upward — no ordinary sea creature, but an aberration — a beast warped by the Dread seeping from the sea's abyssal floor.
A lesser leviathan — its hide cracked with glowing etheric veins — dead eyes staring into nothing.
Turrets spin — steam-etheric cannons of The Solace come to life.
A thunderous blast.
Blue light slams into the creature, tearing it apart in a mist of black blood.
---
Back in the command room, the tension mounts.
The etheric radar shudders wildly.
An energy surge is rising — something, or someone, is ascending.
Marin whispers:
"There's... something coming up. But not a creature. Not a leviathan."
Darius tenses.
"Him?"
Vira says nothing.
Her eyes lock onto the screen.
In her heart, she knows — whoever rises now, the world will not be the same.
---
Beneath the waves...
In suffocating darkness, a lone figure moves upward.
Not drifting, not swimming — walking.
Step by step, defying the crushing currents.
The blood-tainted sea recoils, parting before him.
There are no prayers, no words — only eyes that burn with burdens no mortal could comprehend.
---
On the ship, the alarm blares anew.
The final surge swells.
"Unidentified object... approaching the surface!"
The last bolt of lightning splits the sky.
All eyes turn to the sea.
From a maelstrom of churning water, a solitary figure slowly emerges.
Not leaping, not flying — walking atop shards of iron lifted by the twisted currents.
A tattered cloak, a battered body, eyes dim yet piercing through the storm.
Raka Aryasatya.
But none dare speak his name.
None dare ask.
For as the storm begins to fade, they all know:
What returns from the Abyss... is no longer merely a man.