Out on the open sea, in the middle of nowhere, a small boat drifted aimlessly. On it was a young boy, his exposed arms and legs covered in scars. His skinny body looked even thinner as he conserved the last of his ship’s biscuit—he had nothing else to eat.

  After wandering aimlessly for days, the boy had no choice left but to catch fish with the harpoon he still had and eat them raw. He knew he would be trapped out here for a very long time. No ordinary ship ever sailed this far south.

  As he lay there, his bluish eyes staring toward the endless blue sky, there was only one thought in his mind: to go back and warn the world of the nightmare he had witnessed.

  The small boat floated farther and farther away, eventually disappearing from view.

  As the huge, seal-like monster’s body slowly submerged beneath the waves, a baffling silence settled over the ship. For a moment, nobody spoke—they simply couldn’t explain what had just happened.

  They had all seen the cannonball lodge itself into the monster’s flesh and then suddenly burst into countless tiny insects that scattered across its skin and burrowed deep inside. But even after witnessing it with their own hollow eyes, they couldn’t grasp what had occurred.

  Alaric, whose mind worked faster than most, came to a terrifying realization: there might be more of those insect-like creatures aboard the ship. After all, they had originally come from this very ship.

  With this thought came a chilling conclusion—those creatures could be anywhere: hiding in the cracks of the walls, under beds, beneath barrels, or tucked into any dark crevice they could crawl into.

  At that moment, Alaric imagined himself sleeping in his bed. He pictured the swarm of black, centipede-like insects emerging from the cracks scattered across his room—running across the floor and crawling up his bed while he lay there, unaware of his surroundings. He saw them latching onto his skeletal body, creeping into his ribcage, and burrowing into his hollow eye sockets and nose.

  The vivid vision left Alaric petrified. But before his thoughts could spiral into worse horrors, he forced himself to compose and reevaluate the situation logically.

  If the ship were truly filled with such creatures, the crew would have discovered them long ago. And if those insects were truly after flesh, they would have already attacked the living corpse sealed away on the fifth floor.

  Alaric reviewed every possibility and concluded that such scenarios were unlikely. So he tried thinking from the opposite end of the problem—rethinking everything from the start.

  Those insects came out of the cannonballs.

  Cannonballs are made of solid metal. Unless these insect-like things had teeth capable of shredding through iron, it was improbable they could have escaped that way. But even more puzzling—how did they get in there to begin with?

  Were they placed inside during the cannonball’s casting? That couldn’t be right. If so, that would mean the insects had been sealed inside the cannonballs for over ten years by now. And for all those years, they would have had to survive without air, food, or water. Even if they were some kind of long-lived creature, it was highly unlikely they could endure such conditions.

  Frowning deeply, Alaric abandoned that line of reasoning. He now understood that he and his crew were entangled in something far beyond reason—a supernatural sea storm of inexplicable phenomena. After everything he had witnessed so far, seeing something like this wasn’t even the most shocking thing anymore.

  What mattered now was determining whether those insect-like creatures posed a real threat.

  After considering how the situation had played out, Alaric believed there was no immediate danger. If those creatures had intended to attack the ship, they would have done so already. Since they hadn’t, it was likely they would remain inactive as long as no one disturbed them.

  Still, with a cautious gesture, Alaric made a mental note: every cannonball aboard the ship had to be regarded as a potential nest for these creatures.

  With that thought in mind, he moved toward the railing, intending to address the crew and reestablish control before chaos erupted.

  But before he could reach the railing and speak, the entire ship suddenly tilted forward. Alaric stumbled, grabbing the rail just in time. Looking up, he saw the front end of the Black Crown dipping rapidly downward—its bow nearly touching the sea.

  Alaric, already tired from the day’s endless madness, had no plan for this sudden crisis. He guessed the ship may have taken serious damage during the earlier battle and that it had gone unnoticed—maybe a hole had opened in the lower decks, letting water flood in.

  But after thinking about it more, he dismissed that idea. If the damage were that kind of structural failure, the ship wouldn’t be sinking this fast.

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  He looked around—the back of the ship was still mostly above water, but the front had almost entirely submerged. The deck had erupted into complete chaos.

  Skeletal figures ran around in confusion, while ghostly, foggy crewmembers floated above, their hollow faces twisted in panic.

  Before anyone could act, the entire ship went under.

  The ghostly crew members remained suspended in the air, dumbfounded.

  As the ship descended, everything aboard began to float. Barrels rolled, tables and chairs drifted. The captain’s cabin, cluttered with the most miscellaneous items, was no exception. Among them was a birdcage with a dead crow inside. The birdcage, now underwater, looked oddly out of place.

  The ship continued to sink—descending toward the sea monster that had fallen before it.

  Then, as the ship loomed over the sea monster's dead body the entire bottom of the ship cracked open.

  The wooden planks lining the hull split apart. The central beam that had supported the ship's entire frame tore in two. From inside, bulging masses of flesh and bone pushed their way out. The broken planks became jagged, spike-like teeth. Massive bones emerged—resembling enormous fangs—and sank into the soft, white underbelly of the sea monster floating below.

  On the now-submerged deck, the crew recovered from their panic. Alaric looked down at his chest. His ribcage was filled with seawater—were his lung should have been.

  He exhaled, then inhaled. But nothing changed.

  He was breathing underwater with no resistance.

  Slowly, the rest of the crew came to the same realization. They could all breathe underwater—as if it were perfectly natural. As astonishment washed over them, a sound pulled their attention back.

  A slow, wet munching sound echoed from below.

  Alaric and Andrew independently moved to the railing. Looking down from opposite sides of the ship, they saw the open jaws formed by the ship’s hull devouring the sea monster piece by piece.

  Alaric didn’t know what to make of it. He knew the ship had the ability to feed on flesh—but he’d never imagined it literally 'eating' like this.

  What struck him most was that the Black Crown had not been sunk or pulled down. It had dove—of its own will—to consume its prey.

  Well... at least that was one less thing to be concerned about, Alaric thought to himself

  The slow munching gradually ceased. The grotesque maw retracted. The planks closed back together. The ship's underside returned to its usual form. A gurgling sound marked the end of the meal, and all activity stilled.

  But not long after, as Alaric gathered the crew to discuss their next course of action, he felt a premonition. It was similar to ones he had felt before—but slightly different this time. It was a sense of purpose.

  This time, the feeling told him that returning to the Storm Isles may not be as impossible as he once believed.

  And then—below the ship—something changed again.

  The hatches tore apart, too violently to call it a simple opening. From these gaping holes emerged enormous, fleshy limbs. They extended out and formed rows of powerful, fin-like appendages along both sides of the hull.

  With a single powerful sweep, the fins propelled the ship forward through the water.

  Within moments, the Black Crown surged upward and broke the surface once more.

  The crew watched, stunned. The foggy spirits gave chase—they hadn’t been aboard when the ship began to swim, and now floated alongside it in the air.

  Once the ship stabilized, Alaric moved to the edge and looked overboard.

  Massive fins stretched out from the hull—real, working fins.

  And then it dawned on him.

  This was why they had been brought here. Why they fought the monster. Why the ship had guided them south.

  It was all aligned with Alaric’s original goal.

  The Black Crown had brought them here to consume the sea monster—and in doing so, to grow its fins. These fins would now let the ship swim like a real sea creature, no longer dependent on the wind and sails.

  With that realization, Alaric knew what he had to do. He had to get even closer to the ship—to truly understand it.

  Below, the massive fins began to beat, leaving waves and sprays in their wake.

  Inside the captain’s cabin, a compass fell across the floor. Its needle slowly shifted—moving from southwest to northwest, with a slight tilt to northward.

  Near it, a birdcage fell. The dead crow lay still inside. But then the planks beneath the cage quivered. Fleshy tendrils emerged from the floor, snaking into the cage.

  ...

  Above deck, the atmosphere was lively. Sailors clung to ropes, hugged the masts, or stood at the rails, letting wind pass through their hollow bones.

  None had ever seen a ship cut through water so quickly.

  This was the first time for them all—even Alaric. He thought to himself:

  The Black Crown must now be the fastest ship in the world.

  Not even the sleekest harpoon-like warships could compare.

  And that was true—Black Crown was now several times faster than it had ever been before.

  As they admire their newfound love for high speed they forgot to check the time as the sun had set in the west.

  ...

  After a long, grueling day, Alaric returned to his cabin, only to find it completely overturned. Everything inside had been tossed around by the dive.

  Alaric wasn’t ready to deal with the mess. All he wanted was to return to his throne-like seat and get some rest.

  But just before he could sit, he heard something.

  A faint noise—from the side of the room.

  When he turned toward the sound, he immediately thought of an old friend.

  It was the same noise the crow used to make. The one he had raised for years. Trained as a messenger bird. The one he spoke to when he was alone—the one he cared for more than most humans.

  The one who died in that tragic incident.

  He had kept the crow’s body, planning to give it a proper burial once they reached land.

  But now... it seemed that wouldn’t be necessary.

  The old friend had returned to him—letting out the same raspy caww, caww! that had pulled Alaric from countless good dreams.

  For a moment, there was silence. Both on them glanced toward each other as if asking, "Weren't you supposed to be dead?"

  Then, as if nothing had happened, the caws returned.

  Alaric relaxed his shoulders and stepped forward. He lifted the cage from the floor and set it gently on a nearby stool. Then he opened it.

  The half-rotted crow flapped out, its wings patchy and featherless. It flew upward and landed on a beam overhead.

  Alaric, leaving his friend behind, walked over to his seat and collapsed into it.

  Tendrils slowly emerged from the chair and wrapped around him.

  The little crow tilted its head, watching with a curious eye. Then it dropped from the beam and landed gently on Alaric’s left shoulder.

  And there they both stayed—completely still—as if they were nothing more than two corpses left behind by time.