The Last Fisherman of the Drowned Word

Bab 4 : Mutants in the Deep

Chapter 4: Mutants in the Deep

The rhythmic clink-clink of the wrench against the hull was suddenly silenced by a sound that made Caio’s blood turn to slush. It wasn't the groaning of metal or the slosh of the bilge water. It was the distinct, rhythmic scraping of something sharp—like fingernails made of bone—dragging along the outer plating of the ship.

"Did you hear that?" Caio asked, his voice barely a whisper as he froze in place.

Mirella, who had been halfway up the ladder, stopped instantly. She didn't turn around, but her posture became rigid, her hand dropping to the heavy knife she kept sheathed at her hip. "I heard it. Get up here. Quietly."

"What is that?" Caio asked, scrambling up the rungs as fast as he dared.

"Scavengers," Mirella hissed once they reached the deck, her eyes darting across the grey, churning water. "Except they don't scavenge metal. They scavenge us."

"Us?" Caio’s heart hammered against his ribs like a trapped bird. "You mean people?"

"I mean what they used to be," she said, snatching her harpoon gun from the rack by the helm. She shoved a heavy, iron-tipped spear into his hands. "Can you hold this?"

"I've never touched a weapon in my life," Caio said, his knuckles turning white around the shaft.

"Well, you’re about to learn," she replied, her eyes narrowing as a dark, wet shape breached the surface of the port side. "Listen to me, Caio. Don’t look at their faces. If you look at their faces, you’ll hesitate. And if you hesitate, you’re dead."

"What do you mean, their faces?"

"Move!" she screamed, lunging toward the rail.

A figure hauled itself over the side. It was vaguely humanoid, but its skin was a mottled, translucent grey, stretched thin over protruding, jagged bones. Where there should have been eyes, there were only milky, sunken pits. It let out a sound—a wet, clicking gurgle—and lunged for Mirella.

"Keep the helm steady!" Mirella roared, pivoting and driving the harpoon deep into the creature's chest. The impact sent the thing reeling backward, but it didn't drop. It clutched the shaft of the harpoon and hissed, its fingers long and webbed.

"Caio, the controls! Get us moving!" she shouted over the chaos.

"I don't know how to drive this thing!" Caio yelled back, scrambling toward the captain’s chair.

"Throttle is the brass lever! Push it forward!"

Caio grabbed the cold metal, his hands shaking. "It’s not moving!"

"You have to engage the clutch first! The red button!"

He slammed his thumb down on the button just as another creature jumped onto the deck, its mouth opening to reveal rows of needle-like teeth.

[System Alert: Immediate threat detected. Pathfinding assistance active.]

Njord’s voice didn't offer a lecture this time. Instead, a series of glowing blue arrows appeared on the deck, tracing the most efficient movement path for Caio to avoid the creature's swipe.

"Duck!" Caio shouted, not to Mirella, but to himself as he instinctively dropped low. The creature’s claw sliced through the air where his head had been a second before.

"Don't just hide, hit it!" Mirella commanded, her own weapon buried in another attacker.

"I can’t, I’m not a fighter!" Caio pleaded.

"You’re a survivor! Act like it!"

Caio looked at the creature. It was twitching, its movements jerky and erratic. It looked so much like a person—a person who was clearly in agony.

"They were people once, weren't they?" Caio shouted, keeping his back to the helm.

"They’re hunger now!" Mirella barked, kicking one of the mutants back into the sea. "Focus on the ship, Caio! If you lose the engine, we are both bait!"

The ship lurched as a massive weight slammed into the hull. The entire deck tilted, throwing Caio against the control console. The interface in his vision began to flicker with crimson warnings.

[Hull integrity critical. Multiple boarding parties detected.]

"There are too many of them!" Caio yelled, his voice cracking. "Mirella, what do we do?"

"We don't stop!" she screamed. She fired her harpoon again, the line snapping taut as she dragged one of the monsters across the deck and over the rail. "Drive! Get us into the deep-water currents! They hate the high-pressure zones!"

Caio gripped the throttle. He pushed it forward with every ounce of strength he possessed. The engine roared, a deep, mechanical groan that vibrated through the floorboards. The ship surged forward, throwing the creatures off balance.

"Hold on!" Mirella warned, ducking behind a bulkhead.

The vessel picked up speed, the bow slicing through the waves. The creatures scrambled to hold on, their claws scraping against the iron, but the sudden momentum caught them off guard. One by one, they lost their grip and tumbled back into the dark, swirling water.

"Did we get them?" Caio gasped, staring at the empty deck.

Mirella didn't answer. She was standing at the railing, her breath coming in ragged gasps, her harpoon still gripped tightly in her hand. "No. We didn't get them. We just annoyed the pack."

"Annoyed them?" Caio asked, his legs giving out as he slid to the floor. "There were at least a dozen of them."

"And they aren't the hunters," she said, her voice dropping to a low, ominous tone. "They're just the scouts."

"What does that mean?"

She pointed to the horizon. The water was no longer moving in simple swells. It was rising, forming a massive, circular depression in the center of the ocean. A shadow, vast and impossible, was rising from beneath the center of the vortex.

"It means," Mirella whispered, "that the big one is hungry."

The sea erupted. A creature the size of a small island breached the surface, its skin covered in barnacles and scar tissue. It was a leviathan, a nightmare made of brine and ancient rage. It hovered above them for a moment, blocking out the dim, overcast sky.

[System Warning: Apex biological signature detected. Threat assessment: Certain death.]

"Njord?" Caio whispered, staring up at the massive, pulsating wall of flesh. "Tell me you have a plan."

"The plan is to pray," Njord replied, his voice uncharacteristically tense. "Or, alternatively, you could try to steer into the eye of that vortex. It’s a suicide run, but it’s the only way to avoid the crushing force of its impact."

"A suicide run?" Caio looked at the monster, then at Mirella. "Mirella, we have to turn toward the center of that drain!"

Mirella looked at the vortex, then at the leviathan, and finally at Caio. She saw the absolute terror in his eyes, but she also saw the strange, glowing intensity of the System's guidance. She didn't ask questions. She trusted the look in his eyes more than she trusted her own instincts.

"You’re steering!" she shouted, grabbing the engine maintenance levers. "You crash this boat and we’re dead anyway!"

Caio grabbed the wheel. The ship felt heavy, sluggish in the water, but he turned it hard to port. The vessel groaned, tilting violently as it caught the edge of the downward-pulling current.

"Harder!" Mirella yelled. "We need to get under its reach!"

The leviathan brought its massive tail down, a blow that would have shattered the ship like an eggshell. Caio watched the interface, tracking the beast's movement with the precognitive assist of the System.

"Wait... now!" Caio screamed.

He yanked the wheel to the right. The ship banked, the hull scraping against a submerged piece of debris as it narrowly avoided the crushing weight of the monster’s tail. The impact rocked the vessel, sending crates and barrels flying, but they missed the direct hit.

They plunged into the vortex, the world turning into a spinning tunnel of white foam and shadow.

Caio held the wheel, his knuckles bleeding. The ship spiraled down, the pressure building around them, pinning them to the deck. He looked up, toward the mouth of the vortex, and saw the monster.

It wasn't moving to attack anymore. It was floating, its massive, hollow, milky eyes staring directly down into the abyss. And as they spun, the creature’s gaze fixed on Caio.

It didn't look like a mindless beast. It looked like it was calculating. It looked like it was remembering.

"It's looking at me," Caio whispered, his voice trembling.

"Don't look back!" Mirella shouted, her hands white on the controls. "Look at the horizon! Focus on the exit!"

Caio tried to turn his head, but his neck felt locked. The leviathan’s eyes were like two massive moons of dead, grey light. In those eyes, he saw his own reflection—small, pathetic, and terrified.

"Njord, why is it doing that?" Caio gasped.

"It recognizes the signal, Caio," the voice in his head replied, sounding further away than ever. "It’s not just a monster. It’s an observer. And it’s been waiting for you."

"Waiting for me? I’m just a drifter!"

"Are you?" Njord asked, and for the first time, Caio heard a flicker of something like doubt in the AI’s tone. "Hold on. We’re coming out the other side."

The ship hit the bottom of the vortex and surged forward, ejected by the sheer force of the current. They were tossed into the open, calm waters of the other side, the leviathan left far behind in the mist.

Silence descended on the ship. Only the sound of the engine remained, sputtering and wheezing.

Mirella collapsed against the side of the helm, her chest heaving. She stared at Caio, who was still clutching the wheel, his face pale and eyes wide.

"We made it," she breathed, her voice trembling. "We actually made it."

Caio let go of the wheel, his hands shaking so violently he had to tuck them into his armpits. "It looked at me, Mirella. Like it knew me."

"It’s a fish, Caio. A big, ugly, soul-crushing fish," she said, though she didn't sound convinced. She stood up and walked over to him, placing a hand on his shoulder. "You saved us. Again."

"I don't think I'm a good luck charm," Caio said, looking at his hands. "I think I'm a magnet."

"Well, keep being a magnet that keeps us upright," she said, turning toward the engine room. "I’m going to see if the turbines survived that dive. You keep us steady. We’re almost to the Shallows."

Caio stood alone on the deck, the cold wind whipping his hair. He reached into his pocket and felt the locket. He didn't pull it out. He just kept his hand there, staring out into the vast, indifferent blue, wondering what else was waiting for him beneath the waves—and why it felt like he was slowly remembering a home that didn't exist anymore.