The Last Fisherman of the Drowned Word

Bab 2 : Navigator of the Lost

Chapter 2: Navigator of the Lost

The metal claw slammed home against the rusted housing of the ship’s hull, the impact vibrating through Caio’s teeth. He gasped, his chest heaving as he scrambled over the corroded railing and collapsed onto the deck. The ship tilted violently to the left, groaning as if it were mourning its own decay.

"Stay down!" a sharp voice commanded.

Caio looked up, blinking salt from his eyes. Standing over him was a woman with skin tanned to the texture of leather, her hair chopped into a jagged, utilitarian bob. She held a harpoon gun aimed squarely at his chest.

"Don't shoot," Caio wheezed, throwing his hands up. "Please. I’m not a scavenger. I just… I just fell in."

"Fell in?" The woman narrowed her eyes, stepping closer. Her boots were reinforced with duct tape and scrap metal. "Nobody 'falls in' this far out unless they’re running from something or looking for something. You look like the former. What’s your name?"

"Caio," he choked out, trying to catch his breath. "Is this a boat? Who are you?"

"I’m Mirella. And this isn't a boat, it’s a graveyard that’s still breathing. How’d you even survive the current that far out? There’s nothing but leviathans and drowning wrecks in that sector."

Caio looked at the deck, the wood rotting and slick with brine. "I don’t know. I just kept moving. I thought I saw a light."

Mirella lowered the harpoon an inch, though she didn't relax. "You’re lucky you’re not lunch. Most people who show up at the stern claw end up as bait. You got anything of value on you? Any tech? Any supplies?"

"No," Caio said, his voice trembling. "Just… just me. I have nothing."

[System Alert: Subject displays high levels of suspicion. Suggest demonstrating utility to ensure survival.]

Njord’s voice flickered in his head. Caio gritted his teeth, wishing he could tell the AI to shut up.

"Look, Mirella, right? I don't know what kind of world this is, but I’m not looking for trouble. I just need to find solid ground. Is there any left?"

Mirella let out a harsh, barking laugh. "Solid ground? Kid, the last island went under two weeks ago. Everything is sinking. We don’t have 'ground.' We have hulls. We have scrap. We have whatever we can pull out of the deep before it pulls us down with it."

"So, what do you do? Just drift?"

"We move," she said, gesturing toward the bridge. "We follow the currents. If you sit still, the whirlpools catch you. If you go too fast, you waste fuel. It’s a delicate balance of not dying today."

Suddenly, the entire ship shuddered. A deep, grinding roar echoed from beneath them, and the deck lurched beneath Caio’s feet, throwing him against a stack of oil drums.

"What was that?" he yelled, scrambling to find a handhold.

Mirella sprinted toward the helm, her eyes glued to a circular radar screen that looked more like an antique clock than a piece of navigation gear. "It’s a localized vortex! Damn it, I told the engine room to keep the output steady."

"Is it going to pull us under?"

"If we don't clear the pull-range, yes!" She started frantically turning a series of iron wheels. "Get up! Help me with the port tensioner! If that line snaps, the ship will spin until the hull plates buckle!"

Caio stumbled over to a massive rusted chain and grabbed it. It was ice-cold and biting. "Where do I pull?"

"Down!" she screamed over the wind that had suddenly begun to howl from nowhere. "Pull it down until the latch clicks!"

Caio threw his entire body weight against the chain. His muscles, already spent from his swim, screamed in protest. He felt his hands begin to slip on the wet, iron surface.

"I can’t!" he shouted. "It’s too heavy!"

"If you don't, we’re both feeding the fish in about sixty seconds!" Mirella barked. "Push, kid! Give it everything you’ve got!"

Caio closed his eyes, his breathing ragged. Njord, help me!

[System Analysis: Muscle output insufficient. Activating localized stimulant boost. Warning: Will cause temporary nerve fatigue.]

A sudden, sharp sting erupted in his shoulders, followed by a surge of raw, synthetic adrenaline. Caio let out a primal roar, his heels digging into the wooden deck, and he threw his weight into the chain one last time. With a violent, metallic clack, the latch snapped into place.

The ship leveled out instantly, though the vibration remained.

Mirella let out a long, shuddering breath, her hands shaking as she let go of the helm. She looked at Caio with a mix of confusion and something that looked suspiciously like respect. "How did you manage that? You look like you’ve been starving for a week."

"I... I don't know," Caio panted, his limbs feeling like lead now that the boost had faded. "I just didn't want to die."

Mirella walked over to him, peering at his eyes. "You move like you have an internal clock, or some kind of HUD telling you where the pressure points are. You’re not a normal drifter, are you?"

"I'm just a guy who got lucky," Caio said, deciding not to mention the shimmering blue text that was currently flickering in his peripheral vision.

"Luck doesn't pull a tensioner that takes three grown men to move," she muttered. She turned away, staring out into the gray, misty expanse of the horizon. "We’re in the clear for now, but this area is unstable. The tides are erratic."

"Why stay in this sector?"

"Because the deeper the water, the more it gives up," she said. "But the deeper the water, the angrier it gets, too."

[Urgent Warning: Atmospheric pressure drop detected. Rogue wave formation imminent. Direction: North-Northwest. Estimated arrival: 45 seconds.]

Caio stiffened. He looked at the horizon, but he couldn't see anything. "Mirella, we need to move. Now."

She frowned, turning back to him. "Move? We’re drifting. We can’t just start the engine, it’ll overheat."

"There’s something coming," Caio said, his voice urgent. "A wave. A big one. From the north-northwest."

Mirella laughed, though it lacked humor. "The sensors aren't picking up anything, kid. The sea is flat."

"I don't care about your sensors!" Caio shouted, surprising even himself. "Trust me. I can feel it. It’s coming, and if we’re in this position, it’s going to roll the ship."

Mirella looked at him, then at the empty, calm water, and finally at the desperation in his face. Something in her expression shifted. She didn't argue; she didn't even ask why. She lunged for the throttle.

"Brace for impact!" she screamed, slamming the engine into reverse.

The ship’s turbines roared to life, coughing up black smoke as the vessel groaned and began to back away, changing its orientation just as the horizon line seemed to stretch and distort.

Ten seconds passed. Twenty.

"There’s nothing here, Caio," Mirella shouted over the roar of the engines. "If you’re messing with me—"

"Wait," Caio whispered.

The water in front of them suddenly rose, not like a swell, but like a rising wall of obsidian. It surged upward, a towering, silent force of nature that blocked out the sky. It crested, thousands of tons of water hanging suspended for a heartbeat before it came crashing down.

It hit exactly where the ship had been sitting a moment ago.

The deck tilted at a forty-five-degree angle. Caio grabbed the railing, his fingers white-knuckled, as the spray of the impact washed over the ship like a tidal flood. The vessel shuddered, its hull plates screaming, but they remained upright.

As the water receded, leaving the deck slick with foam and debris, silence returned. Mirella stood at the helm, her face pale, staring at the churning whitewater where they would have been pulverized.

She turned to look at Caio. She didn't say a word, but the look in her eyes—the way she looked at him—had changed from caution to something much more dangerous.

"You," she said quietly, her voice barely audible over the receding waves. "What are you?"

Caio leaned against the railing, his heart hammering against his ribs. He looked at the interface, which was now glowing a soft, steady white.

"I’m just a guy who wants to stay alive," Caio said. "And I think you’re going to need me if you want to do the same."