The night ocean should have been quiet.
It wasn't.
Cyrus leaned against the Odyssey's railing, arms pressed to the chilled metal as moonlight carved a silver runway across the rolling waves. Normally, the sea breathed like a sleeping giant. Tonight, it felt like that giant had chugged six espressos and discovered cardio.
Beneath the surface, shadows coiled and scattered — something alive, something massive, something very much not in any Pokédex entry that had ever been confidently written.
Ditto — still insisting on being a seagull for reasons that were probably classified as "chaotic whimsy" — stared down with a seriousness no actual bird had ever possessed.
"See anything fun?" Cyrus asked.
Ditto nodded. Then shook its head. Then shrugged.A triple-answer. Very helpful.
"Fantastic. I'll just assume we're either fine or imminently doomed."
A low blanket of fog crept across the water like it had paid rent to be spooky. The ship's lights flickered — one stutter, two — as if even the electricity was nervous. Cyrus tapped his wrist device, coaxing the screen to stop acting like anxiety incarnate.
"It's like the ocean's Wi-Fi forgot how to ocean," he grumbled.
Gengar oozed into reality beside him — casually phasing through a crate purely for the drama. Its red eyes narrowed at the water. A mix of respect and… unease. Coming from Gengar, that was basically a siren.
Then — the world exploded.
WHOOMPH!
A Wailord erupted from the water in a cathedral-sized flourish, breaching skyward in a towering arc. Starlight streamed off its slick hide like glitter off a disco ball the size of an apartment complex. It hung there — suspended — then crashed down with a thunderclap that slapped the ship.
Crew staggered and fell forward quickly grabbing an clinging to the railing. "Cool, cool. Surprise kaiju. Love that for us."
As the living island dove deeper, it kicked a storm of motion into the sea. Schools — no, hordes — of Relicanth scattered, ancient scales reflecting light like cracked gemstones.
"These guys are prehistoric and endangered," Cyrus whispered. "And there's just… Costco quantities of them?"
Magikarp darted like panicked Cheetos, flopping in tense little bursts. Feebas — subtle, quiet, too-beautiful-only-later fish — moved in ghostlike ribbons weaving through them.
Cyrus's heart hammered.
"This really is basically a fossil theme park," he breathed. "Just with significantly more terror, Jurassic Park has a run for it's money with this one."
Charcadet pressed into his leg — tiny armor rattling, little flames guttering. Meltan paused mid-bolt-snack, a rare act of restraint. Even it respected the vibes.
Because the ocean hadn't even shown its real hand yet.
The water ahead bulged — not up, but out — like something long and muscular slid beneath it. The swell followed a shape.
A predator.
Sleek torso. Heavy jaw built for pursuit. Scales that curved with natural purpose — not mismatched into a science fair accident.
Dunklevish.
A real one. A proper one.
And several more slid behind it — six? Seven? Gliding in synchronicity as if nature itself approved their blueprints.
""That's… that's what Dracovish was supposed to be," Cyrus hissed. "Before humans combined fossils like they were grabbing random LEGO pieces in the dark."
His scanner spat static. Then numbers. Then static again.
"Oh — so you're choosing abandon me tonight...Cute."
One Dunklevish surged upward, stopping inches from the hull — rows of precise, razor-aligned teeth flashing — then slithered away like a streak of silver lightning.
The ship shuddered.
Gengar leaned closer — fascinated.
"Do not," Cyrus warned, finger raised, "ghost-possess the prehistoric murder-torpedo."
Gengar pouted, which was deeply unsettling on a demon balloon.
The Dunklevish circled the Odyssey — slow, assessing — like they were offering an escort… or delivering a threat with excellent customer service.
"This isn't just a safe zone for extinct species," Cyrus murmured.
"It's their kingdom. And we're crashing the party."
A vibration rolled through the metal beneath his feet — deeper than engines, older than sound — a territorial announcement from something colossal.
The Dunklevish froze. Then vanished like the deep itself swallowed them.
Stillness fell.
Too still. The kind of stillness directors use right before the monster shows up.
"All hands inside!" the captain barked. "We make landfall at dawn. Stay sharp!"
The crew stampeded toward cabins. Smart people. People who wanted to remain not-chewed.
Cyrus lingered a beat longer, fingers gripping cold railing.
Ditto glided back to his shoulder, feathers ruffling nervously. Meltan clinked, coiling its bolt like a stress toy. Charcadet's fire shrank, suit trembling. Gengar melted backward into shadow — no jokes now.
Cyrus exhaled through his teeth.
"This island better have a cute visitor center," he muttered. "Because the ocean definitely doesn't do hospitality."
He forced his legs to move. One step. Then another.
As he descended below deck, the sea behind him rippled — once, twice — as if something massive just grazed the surface.
Something ancient.
Something aware.
Something that had noticed them.
The island wasn't waiting.
It was watching.