There was nothing familiar about what Akari witnessed on that foggy evening in the far northernmost tip of the Sea of Dreams.
With a ripple of fractal crimson radiance, space itself bent inward, shifting the very direction of the ocean.
Bells rang throughout the land with the ferocity of collapsing mountains, the sound reverberating through every house, storefront, and cathedral.
Citizens awoke, sweat pooling from their foreheads as their very souls stirred in response to the event.
The Ghostship of Souls had set sail, the primordial force of Death billowing across the cloudy waves without a care in the world.
Ahead of it appeared a rift that cared not for space nor time, a gateway that represented a tiny fraction of the universal construct known as the World Between.
Unlike all other Ghostships, the one wielded by Vaelmyr Droskyn was something incomparable in power.
Contracted with Death himself, he had access to an exclusive pathway through the World Between, one that could shatter the spirits of those aboard in the blink of an eye.
This pathway, the Passage of the Lost, was a river that ran down the southern roots of the dimensional plane and bordered a place of eternal rest.
Through a visit to the Vault of Nautilus, the Sea King had received an item of immeasurable value, one that allowed his power to be split between his subordinates.
It was a small hourglass, filled with the blood of the owner, that could pass on strength equal to the dosage.
If enough authority was granted, one could receive partial control over the Ghostship itself, an ability without rival.
And so, Vaelmyr Droskyn, who only had one living crewmate, granted him half of his own might.
The second-hand to the second Sea King, Solister Lune, a young man from the second most dangerous place on the planet.
The Sea of Polar Storms in the south of the known world, an icy complement to the deathly Abyss that stretched over the north pole.
…
"Girlie, brace for entry."
Solister gripped the helm, veins popping from his flesh like miniature streams wrapping around bone.
Akari could only follow his command, grabbing hold of a fastened barrel that shook lightly as the vessel plowed forward.
W-What in the world is that—
Her entire body trembled as reality seemed to bend around the Ghostship, pulling it in like a moth to a flame.
Whatever mystical powers controlled the world seemed to toy with the girl's mind, whispers of dead souls clashing with her own thoughts.
"Worry not, lass. They don't last long."
Spinning around faster than she should've, the girl nearly doubled over as she realized she was face-to-face with the dark-haired man.
H-He just appeared!?
Attempting to back up a step, she realized her feet were heavier than stones, a deathly force pressing down on every fragment of her body.
"Part of da experience is the pressure. Ya'll get used to it. We all do."
Shrugging calmly, he pulled an obsidian whistle from his coat, placing it on his slightly chapped lips.
Blowing gently, a sense of relief shrouded Akari's body, the voices dimming and the grasp of death dissipating.
The moment was peaceful, one of bliss as she felt her own mortality returning to her; it was a time that would not last long.
Without further ado, the vessel slammed into the rift, a feeling of absolute distortion washing over the world as Akari's eyes flustered lightly.
Tightening her grip on the barrel with one hand and the scroll the King had given her in the other, she groaned softly as her presence was erased from the Dimension of Waves.
Both Akari and the first-mate of the King of Souls had vanished from the world itself, taken in by the cold arms of death, all for a chance at travel.
At the same time, the King in question stood at the shore of the island, sensing this disturbance, a slight smile tugging at his lips as he realized that Solister had taken the girl.
"Better taking off with him than becoming a thief."
He paused, his expression fading into sternness as he faced the reflective liquid below him.
The seal is unbreakable. Thorn said it himself, that ancient civilization, a society stronger than even us now…
Tightening his hand into a fist, he let out a sigh, the feeling of his Ghostship disappearing farther and farther into the dimensional gap digging at his subconscious.
Then, with a single step forward, he fell into the thick black seawater, submerging his entire figure instantly.
Bubbles floated to the surface, yet there was no resurfacing of the man.
He had ceased to be a King who ruled the waves, now becoming one who hunted beneath them.
…
Time passed fast, seconds blurring into minutes, then into hours, and as the moon appeared bright in the night sky, illuminated by the Twin Bridges of Hetrolara that shone high in the sky, the three invaders reached a large chamber.
Esme was the first to break the silence, sweat trickling down her cheek.
"We have reached the forty-ninth floor~ "
She paused, taking a swift breath, then continuing.
"Once we pass here, we have made it~"
She extended her short arms towards a large double door before them, a sign that they had come far from the waterlogged chambers of spikes and mud.
However, this was not the end, a fact that the three knew for certain, the presence behind the door a clear indication.
Sensing something through the stone gateway, Raymond reflexively tightened his grip on his spear.
Across from him, Stein smiled grimly, a stack of sharpened playing cards illuminated within the murky light pouring from the white-haired girl's staff.
The card at the top of the deck was, of course, devoted to the First King himself, with a drawing of a beautiful figure basked in turquoise light.
Behind his image sat a vessel whose masts were lit with a gray fire, the only written account of his Ghostship being taken from his own diary.
In certain superstitious beliefs, the first card of the deck represented the gain in loss, an analogy that Raymond could not see.
Stein shrugged off the ominous thought, walking forward and placing his pale-white hands against the doorway.
Creaaaaaakkkkkk!
Stone gave way, boulders tumbling down from the ceiling as a rush of wind nearly sent the group flying into the back wall.
Digging his feet into the ground, Raymond brought his spear, basked in darkness, in front of his face, parting the storm of air with a single slash.
His expression was stark as he stared into the pitch-black chamber from which the wind came, his eyes locking onto nothingness.
Then, he tensed up and slowly barked out two words.
"Show yourself."
The navy-haired man's voice echoed through the cavern gently, prompting Esme to turn to him with a frown, Stein still holding on tight to the double doors.
For a moment, there was no response to Raymond's words; however, the sound of a heavy, gigantic footstep rang out slowly.
Two azure flames burst to life in the void, illuminating a vague piece of the darkness.
Its body was that of a human, yet over fifteen times the size, and was made out of mana-enhanced stone.
Long arms of steel were connected with veins of dried energy that oozed with magical traces while resisting the miasma's effect.
Around its chest, armor that had wave-like grooves was etched into the stone, giving its body a protective layer that resisted magecraft.
Above all else, its head was like a statue, one that reflected an older man's face, one worn from a life of battle, scars etched into various places.
Tinges of turquoise could be seen even in the faded stone, a signal to whom the living machine might have been modeled after.
Such a fact did not matter to Raymond, who, even after the construct's appearance, did not release his guard one bit.
"Bring the rest of the giants."
His words shocked Stein, who had backed up reflectively at the sight of the massive monster of a man who stood above them, sword in hand.
Again, a lengthy pause ensued; however, the sound of cogs turning and rock grating against heavy ground eventually erupted through the room.
The solitary machine that had come out before already possessed enough mana to equal an Admiral of the Hunters' Guild.
And now there were eight, each with an identical appearance, except the runes.
On the blades wielded by each machine, ancient runes were carved deep into the rusted metal, ones so old that even Esme could hardly decipher one.
While they looked and acted the same, their runic markings varied, a thought that roused Raymond's curiosity.
Unfortunately for him, this was not the time for research, for these monsters were made for a reason, and that reason was against the beliefs of the Order.
And as they had been programmed, the mechanisms of ancient origin moved all the giants synchronously, swarming out of the vault in an instant.
Stein, who had been frozen in fear, smiled lightly, realization dawning across his face.
"A fight! How lovely!"
Esme sighed, scratching her head and aiming her staff at the giant that charged at her headfirst.
Raymond himself, a man armed with only a spear, held firm, the stance of a warrior, and the power of a Dark Angel coursing through his body.
Opening his mouth, he uttered a phrase he had wished to utter for years, one that he had longed to say.
"Come at me."