A middle-aged man sat at a desk, poring over documents. His mood shifted abruptly as he glanced out the window to his right. The port bustled with activity, boats being hoisted from the sea as fishers returned in haste. Night was approaching, and staying on the water after dark was tantamount to suicide.
Soon, a jagged boat, its wood chipped and paint faded but structurally sound, was pulled onto the lift. A boy, soaked in blood—red, blue, and purple from face to hands to legs, stood aboard. His clothes were tattered, his shirt shredded beyond recognition. He clutched a blood-soaked dagger in one hand and gripped a two-foot-wide demon fish in the other, as if it were a priceless heirloom.
The man instantly recognized the creature. "Demon Angler Fish," he muttered. To ordinary villagers, the fish would be alarming, but he was one of Sunset's only ten awakeners. What truly unsettled him was the boy, no older than fifteen, radiating the aura of an awakener.
He recalled clearly: no awakeners had gone to sea that morning. This boy must have undergone an extraordinary ordeal to awaken on the water and return alive. He rose swiftly from his chair and stepped out of the office, intent on summoning someone to fetch the village chief. This news demanded the chief's immediate attention.
But as he reached the office door, he spotted the chief striding into the port through the port gates, his face a complex mask of joy and apprehension. The man hurried to meet him. "Chief, I was about to call for you," he said urgently. "There's a problem at the port that needs your attention."
"Yes, I sensed it," the chief replied, moving past him. "Come, let's see." The man fell into step behind the village chief, his pulse quickening.
…
Calen stood in the queue, the weight of others' stares heavy on him. His turn came. He guided his boat into the rectangular space marked by the floating pillars. Within seconds, the boat rose from the sea, ascending vertically. The sensation of flight, no matter how familiar, sparked a thrill in his chest.
He often dreamed of his boat soaring freely beyond the port's lift. The thought faded as the boat settled onto the port's ground. Calen swiftly grabbed the Demon Angler Fish in one hand, its bulk a grim trophy, and tightened his grip on his bloodied dagger in the other.
His eyes scanned ahead, wary. A sudden, intense threat surged from the front, as if a predator far stronger targeted him, poised to crush him like an insect. His newfound senses sharpened as he traced the source.
An old man in his seventies approached, clad in a long, gray robe, his short, white beard stark against his weathered face, his long, white hair tied in a ponytail. This was the village chief. Calen had seen him countless times, but never had he exuded such menace.
Behind trailed the middle-aged port officer, less imposing but still formidable. Calen knew the officer's role and saw no escape from these two. Yet, certain he'd done no wrong, he held his ground, awaiting their approach.
The port buzzed with the day's peak activity. A crowd soon gathered near Calen, drawn to the blood-soaked boy clutching A Demon Angler Fish. None ventured closer than five meters, repelled by an intense aura of bloodlust he emitted unknowingly, stirring instinctual fear.
The village chief and port officer stopped two meters in front of him, their scrutiny piercing. The chief broke the silence. "Boy, what's your name?" he asked, voice steady.
"Calen, Calen Vorys," Calen replied concisely.
The chief and officer exchanged a glance, their eyes conveying a shared realization. The Vorys name was unknown in the village. "Where are your parents?" the port officer asked.
"My father went missing two years ago. My mother died when I was born," Calen said, his tone flat, as if reciting a mundane fact.
"What about your relatives?" the chief pressed.
"I don't have anyone," Calen answered, his demeanor unchanged.
"How old are you?" the chief asked again.
"Fourteen," Calen replied.
"Very well, Calen," the chief said. "Now, answer truthfully. I'll know if you lie. When did you go to sea?"
"This morning, around ten," Calen replied.
"How far from the village?" the chief asked.
"About ten kilometers northwest," Calen said.
The chief pointed to the fish in Calen's hand. "How did you catch this Demon Angler Fish?"
"I don't know," Calen said. "I was aiming for a bristlemouth, but I had no bites until around one. Then this got hooked."
"Your attire and the fish's injuries show you fought it before killing it," the chief observed. "You must have felt its strength when it hooked. Why didn't you cut the line and seek an easier catch?"
"I was hungry," Calen said. "I had no more fishing hooks and no money to buy them."
The port officer erupted with fury. "Nonsense! Who's charging you for fishing hooks? They're free at the port office. You could've grabbed some or asked for help!" His voice trembled with anger and panic, fearing the chief might think he exploited vulnerable children.
"I… I didn't know," Calen stammered, his composure faltering for the first time. "I thought you had to pay. My father never told me."
The chief's face remained neutral. "How did you catch it after it hooked?" he continued.
"I let it pull me and the boat for an hour until it tired," Calen said. "It dragged me for ten more kilometers. Then I pulled it onto the deck and stabbed it until it died." He spared the details of the brutal brawl.
The chief, uninterested in the fight's specifics, pressed on. "How did you awaken?"
"I was hungry, so I ate a piece of its meat after killing it," Calen said.
"What?" The chief's neutral mask cracked. "Boy, don't you know you can't eat a demon fish like A Demon Angler Fish raw, especially right after killing it?"
"No, I didn't know," Calen replied, less flustered now, aware of his ignorance.
"How did you overcome the pain?" the port officer asked. As awakeners, they knew the agony of consuming a demon fish's Aether-packed flesh raw. Calen hadn't been awakened when he ate it.
"I didn't," Calen said. "It felt like a million needles piercing my body. My vision and hearing went numb. But I also felt my injuries healing and energy filling me. Then a voice told me to eat more. So I ate four more pieces. The pain lasted about two hours. When it faded, I found I had awakened."
The village chief and port officer stood speechless. Calen, teetering between madness and desperation, had eaten a deep-sea demon fish raw, driven by hunger and a lack of hooks. If they shared his tale, others might dismiss it as a ludicrous fabrication. And what of the voice urging him to eat more?
"What else did the voice say?" the chief asked, his tone probing.
"It said I was going to awaken after I ate the fifth piece," Calen replied. "I haven't heard it since."
The chief studied him, sensing no deceit. "Very well. Go home and rest. Come to my house tomorrow morning at nine," he said, dismissing Calen from the port.
As Calen turned to leave, the chief spoke again. "Don't sell the pearl. You'll need it later. I'll explain tomorrow." He extended a pouch clinking with coins. "Take this."
Calen hesitated, eyeing the chief for an explanation. The chief, reading his wariness, sighed. "It's not my money. Every awakener receives a bonus upon awakening. I'm giving it to you early. Take it, don't eat more of that flesh today. Overloading your body with Aether is dangerous."
Calen's eyes brightened. He snatched the pouch, tucking it under his belt. He stashed his dagger on the boat beside its twin, then hoisted the boat onto his head with one hand, gripping the Demon Angler Fish tightly in the other. With steady steps, he walked toward his home.