Capítulo 15
El comienzo de una pesadilla
[20 Hours After Leaving Port]
The sun was beginning its descent toward the cycle of sunset.
—"Laiosssss…"— said a tired voice.
The man turned toward the caller.
—"What is it?"—he asked.
A blonde boy, who looked about eighteen, looked at him with a certain impatience.
—"How long will the journey take?"—he asked.
—"Four days,"— replied Laios.
—"One hundred and sixty hours?"— the young man exclaimed, his eyes widening in surprise—. "That's incredibly fast!"
—"It's true. If we were going via the intercontinental bridge to Inter-Gate, it would take twice as long, even triple,"— the uncle said calmly.
The boy's face was marked by sincere astonishment.
At that moment, a voice called him from the deck. The young man bid Laios a quick farewell with a gesture, and they exchanged a brief salute. As soon as he walked away, a different uniformed man approached the uncle.
—"Has your nephew given you his sword back yet?"— asked the officer.
Laios frowned and nodded with a grimace.
—"Yes…but I don't even remember letting go of it. In fact, I'd swear I never took it from my waist."
The officer smiled sideways, like someone guarding a secret.
—"On the last trip to Inter-Gate,your nephew learned a new combat style. Perfect for stealthy movements. It leaves no trace, you don't even perceive the moment the weapon disappears."
As he said it, his gestures conveyed the excitement and pride he felt for that achievement.
—"Eh…"— murmured Laios, arching an eyebrow—. "And what style is that?"
The officer responded firmly, almost solemnly:
—"The'Roaring Star' style."
[Present]
—"That's a lot of information,Uncle,"— said Kaep, squinting.
—"Sorry…"— replied Laios, lowering his voice a bit—. "I wanted to mention that style because it really caught my attention."
Kaep rested his elbow on the table and looked at him intently.
—"'Roaring Star,'right? Sounds grandiose."
—"It is…"— Laios fell silent for a moment, as if weighing each word—. "It's a style that's hard to detect. And that makes it dangerous, even for the one wielding it."
Kaep arched an eyebrow, intrigued.
—"You mean it could become a risk for me myself?"
—"Exactly,"— Laios nodded—. "A sword that disappears without you noticing when you handed it over… that's too much for someone still learning to control their strength."
The silence stretched for a few seconds, heavy with tension. Outside, the wind insistently beat against the walls of the place.
Kaep smiled with an expression that didn't fit the unease of the environment.
—"So…you're saying it could be the start of my own nightmare?"
Laios didn't respond immediately. He just looked at him, serious, as if warnings he never wanted to hear aloud were echoing in his memory.
[32 Hours After Leaving Port]
—"Laios!"—someone shouted, while the uncle held onto a rope with both hands as it shook violently from the swell.
—"What's happening?"— he asked without letting go.
—"Your nephew… he's very weak against the tide. He fainted from seasickness,"— replied a robust man, approaching through the swaying of the deck.
Laios opened his eyes with worry.
—"Is he alright?"
—"Yes. An alchemist attended to him. Said a young man, Eilor, according to a letter he had on him, was resting in his room after fainting. Ah, and he gave him a potion that will help with the seasickness for a while."
For a moment, Laios's jaw tensed with shock.
—"A potion?"—he repeated quietly.
The man nodded.
—"That'll leave him financially ruined,"—murmured Laios, rubbing his hands together as if praying for a miracle—. "I hope that alchemist is kind enough to give it for free…"
The robust man watched as, in that gesture, the rope Laios had released snapped and shot into the midst of the night storm, tearing until it flew into the water. Three others noticed it: the pistol girl, Körper, and another crew member.
The five of them stood in a dense silence, broken only by the roar of the wind and the creak of wood.
Laios was about to say something, his lips slightly parted, but he stopped. He turned halfway, ready to leave, when the robust man stopped him with a firm hand on his shoulder.
—"Where are you going?"— he asked seriously.
Laios turned slowly, searching for words. However, before he could respond, the fifth member of the group spoke, interrupting with a nervous tone:
—"…Do you hear that?"— he said with a trembling voice—. "Those whispers…"
What didn't fully capture the attention of Laios, the robust man, or the pistol girl, did snag Körper's attention sharply, and he frowned.
—"What whispers are you talking about?"— he managed to say.
But the question was left half-finished. His words died in his throat when he saw, mere centimeters away, how the man's face began to deform. The skin stretched and tore with a wet, repulsive sound, while bones crunched and rearranged under the flesh. The entire body grew, becoming taller, the human features erasing to give way to something unnameable.
Körper was face to face with it, with no escape: he watched as that human grimace transformed into the visage of a triton cryptid, a monstrous hybrid of fish and man. A memory that, he knew in that instant, would haunt him in endless nightmares.
The others took a moment to notice. First the robust man, then Laios, and finally the pistol girl.
And yet, Körper's body reacted before his mind could process it. His training kept him on his feet. A light bloomed under his uniform, on his left shoulder, and in a single movement he drew his sword with one hand, while with the other he condensed the rain into a sharp cylinder of water, a liquid stinger that sparkled under the storm.
The girl responded instantly: she drew one of her pistols with one hand and a short sword with the other.
Laios, with a fluid motion, drew his sword, using the very act of drawing as an immediate attack, seeking to capitalize on surprise.
The robust man drove his foot into the deck, making the wood vibrate, and in a single impulse leaped spinning, preparing a devastating kick.
The monster, now unrecognizable, opened its mouth: a guttural shriek that seemed not of this world mixed with the storm's thunder.
The cryptid didn't manage to complete its transformation. An instant before, it was cut into three parts:
The central section took the robust man's kick full force and flew several meters, smashing against the deck with a dry noise.
The upper part was pierced mid-air:two pistol bullets and Körper's water needle went through it almost simultaneously, shredding it.
The lower part,still writhing, was split in two by a second cut from Laios, who, upon finishing the movement, was already sheathing his sword again.
The silence lasted barely a heartbeat. The four fighters immediately regrouped, back to back, instinctively forming a defensive circle.
Then they saw it. They hadn't defeated an isolated monster.
The rest of the men present—most of the crew—were also writhing, convulsing under the rain. Skin tearing, bones crunching, faces stretching until they lost all humanity.
What was clear was terrifying:
it wasn't just a few who were corrupted…it was almost everyone.
The air filled with a chorus of wet, guttural shrieks, mixed with the rumble of the storm.
Among the transformed were most of the ship's crew and a few soldiers, though fewer in number, just one or two.
It wasn't the time to process it, but one of the four fighters couldn't help but twist his face in disgust at the spectacle. A faint light began to glow under their uniforms, as if responding to the horror.
The girl sheathed her short sword and drew her second pistol.
Gunshots.
At the echo of the first shot, Laios, Körper, and the robust man launched themselves fully against the monsters.
A quick glance made it clear: it was five against fourteen. A brutal disadvantage.
While the three held back the advance of several cryptids, the fifth soldier—one of the few who hadn't transformed—went flying near Laios, crashing against a wall and breaking through it with a noise of splintered wood.
Laios spun in the opposite direction of the crash just after blocking a cryptid's claw swipe.
What he saw froze him: a much larger monster, with six limbs, the two additional ones protruding grotesquely from the base of its thighs. Its silhouette imposed more volume and an instinctual aggressiveness.
The cryptid had noticed him too.
It crouched, bracing on four of its six legs, and launched itself like a projectile, a living cannonball that shattered other cryptids in its path without stopping.
Laios set his sword firmly between himself and the charge.
But Laios's instinct screamed"mistake!" even before his mind understood it, he began to move.
He took a long step to the right, almost a leap, twisting the sword as he planted his right foot on the ground. With his left, he pivoted and began a horizontal cutting motion, a wide arc, intent on channeling all his force into a single slash.
The monster collided squarely with the blade. The steel sank into its viscous skin, but then a strange crunch sounded. Laios looked down and saw it: the hilt, too long, was bending like butter.
The grip of his left hand loosened. With one hand alone he couldn't sustain the force of the spin. His right hand gave way and the sword flew from his grasp.
It spun completely around in a full arc, hitting Laios in the back with the flat of the blade, throwing him against the floor.
The cryptid halted with its six limbs, raising splinters and fragments of debris. It turned toward the fallen man.
Laios saw it… but he also saw the sword, bent, a few meters away.
He lunged for it at the same time the monster tensed its muscles to pounce.
The two, man and monster, ran toward the same point.
Man to sword and monster to man.