The voice was as cool and clear as moonlight, yet it carried the mysterious rhythm of the Deep Sea, causing everyone to involuntarily freeze.
Following the sound, they saw a brown-haired youth who had, at some point, appeared at the ship's bow.
His long fingers gently caressed a Harp, and from his slightly parted lips flowed a melody that pierced the soul.
As the song rose and fell, the school of sharks beneath the waves gradually slowed their pace. Even the murderous intent in the eyes of the ferocious Shahua Fishmen began to fade, replaced by a cunning look.
But when their gazes fell upon the corpses of their comrades on the deck, that cunning look instantly froze, turning into terror.
The Fishmen scraped wet, greasy trails across the deck with their webbed claws as they instinctively backed away.
But this terror was fleeting, replaced in an instant by a pure, unadulterated lust for slaughter.
