Chapter 67: Shores of Awakening

The instant his head broke through the surging surface, like a spectral wrath-flame flickering in pitch-black hell, allowing his mouth and nose to emerge from the seawater, sustaining his feeble breaths.

We bobbed helplessly with the waves.

Lifting his heavy eyelids, what met his gaze was the sailing ship’s dark, oppressive silhouette— plainly just a mid-sized vessel, yet from this low vantage looking up, it seemed as massive as a mountain.

Along the rail, torches were raised one by one in spots, casting dotted halos onto the black sea.

“Help—!”

I barely treaded water to maintain buoyancy, my strength nearly exhausted in the icy struggle.

Utter fatigue swept over my body; I could only flail my arms futilely, shouting hoarsely with all my might for rescue.

Returning to that ship would likely mean being treated like a prisoner, right?

But in this moment, the desire to survive overrode all concerns.

Several sharp whistles cut through the air!

Three or four slender black shadows plummeted abruptly from the high rail, plunging into the water around us like venomous serpents.

My pupils contracted sharply; I froze for an instant before realizing they were harpoons— thick ropes attached, blades glinting coldly!

“Dead or alive, haul them up for me!”

A muffled roar echoed from the ship, followed by more dense volleys of barbed, vicious harpoons raining down like gale and storm.

“Damn— they’re out for blood!”

My heart screamed alarm as I dragged Nolan’s heavy body, dodging left and right in the sea.

Just as we teetered on the brink, harpoons nearly skewering us, a voice pierced through from behind, cutting water and clamor:

“Hey! Over here!”

I strained my neck amid the waves, forcing open my salt-stung eyes to look.

On the dark sea behind, unbeknownst when, a small boat had approached.

Aboard, a black-haired, red-eyed youth waved his arms, shouting in an unquestionable, commanding tone:

“Come on, get on board!”

She’d come back— to rescue us!

No time to ponder the motives; I poured every ounce of strength into dragging Nolan toward the skiff.

As we neared the side, Galestia reached down from above to pull; I heaved from below with my last reserves, finally hauling the unconscious Nolan onto the deck.

Then, her arm, drained of strength, yanked me up from the icy sea.

“Heh, no need to thank me,” Galestia said offhandedly.

“I’m just not keen on letting this turn into a murder.”

Nolan lay utterly still, sprawled in the cabin.

On the deck boards, I gulped ragged breaths, lifting my head to see Galestia holding that chain-bound holy book, her lips moving in murmured incantation.

With her whispers, the unmanned skiff moved as if alive, nimbly turning and drifting on the surface; those lethal harpoons from the big ship all grazed the hull, splashing harmlessly into empty water.

“I see— so that’s how this thing works.”

She murmured thoughtfully, a knowing curve to her lips.

Yet I clearly felt a bone-chilling yin aura spreading with her invocation, like maggots in marrow, creeping silently up my spine.

“Necromancy……”

I blurted it out, voice still trembling from the gasps.

“Oh— you figured it out that quick?!”

Galestia glanced at me, mildly surprised.

“I only just pieced it together myself. That’s right— bound to this human-skin book is an unresting spirit. Whoever holds this holy book can command its power. I figure that fraud monk was playing holy man with this very thing.”

As she spoke, her palm gently stroked the book’s eerie, cold cover.

Then, a pure white light— utterly devoid of warmth— flared, enveloping the skiff in the dark waters.

“See?”

She said with a mocking edge.

“This spirit was probably some high-ranking cleric in life— heh, fallen so low in death; looks like his god didn’t favor him much.

Now, he’s reduced to pulling our boat like some invisible oarsman.”

Galestia added, stomping the deck beneath with her foot, her contempt unmasked in her words.

I understood now: the skiff’s self-navigation came from that bound spirit, dragging it forward from the depths like an unseen hauler.

I merely propped my limp body with both arms, silent, trying to regain some strength quickly.

But my sodden, freezing clothes clung greedily to my skin, siphoning what little body heat remained, sending an unstoppable chill through me.

This soul-binding grimoire’s crafting technique undoubtedly tied to taboo black magic; I still knew a bit about it.

By the “original plot” I recalled, Nolan was meant to destroy this evil tome, freeing its captive spirit.

But now, the book was in Galestia’s hands, while Nolan lay comatose—

At the thought, I couldn’t help turning my head, glancing sidelong at Nolan sprawled on the floor nearby.

If this magic book truly fell under Galestia’s full control and mastery, the consequences would be dire.

This spirit had been a formidable cleric in life; the fraud monk, being weak, could only bluff with the book.

But Galestia was entirely different— she absolutely could unleash its power to the utmost, even beyond.

After all—

Deep down, I knew all too well: that nonsense about being a hero’s descendant was pure fabrication.

Her true identity was the Demon Princess, exiled from the Demonic Realm— awakened from long slumber, bereft of most her power, now forced to hide her name and wander the human world.

The Demon King’s clan’s strength stemmed from their innate, resilient spirit potent enough to command demonic mana sources.

Cut off from her Demonic Realm homeland, unable to draw from the great mana font, Galestia now lurked in the human world, secretly gathering strength, awaiting her chance to reclaim the Demon King’s citadel, Leitun.

“By the way—”

Just then, Galestia’s voice rang out again, shattering the brief silence.

“I have to say— I misjudged you earlier. You seem way tougher than you look.”

Her red eyes fell on me with appraising intent.

“But it’s odd— you’re clearly stronger than the guy next to you, so why was he the one acting all protective before? Reality’s the opposite, isn’t it? Tsk tsk, and look at his sorry state now— no wonder he ended up a cripple……”

“Take that back.”

I cut her off in a low voice.

“Hm?”

Galestia turned, looking at me with faint surprise.

I panted, struggling to shift from slumped sitting to a more alert posture, repeating though weakly, resolute:

“He’s not a cripple…… If you keep that attitude, you’ll absolutely regret it someday……”

Fine, I admit— objectively, Nolan’s body does carry a disability.

But this outcome’s tied to me too; at this moment, I couldn’t tell if my rebuttal was more to defend Nolan or to excuse myself.

Either way, Galestia’s scornful tone pricked like a thorn in my heart, making me deeply uncomfortable.

“Heh.”

Galestia didn’t engage further, merely letting out an ambiguous cold laugh from her throat, then turning away, her crimson gaze fixing again on the distant, profound dark.

The skiff pressed on across the shadowy sea, speed astonishing.

The sail ship behind faded to a distant speck, its broken shouts dissipating in the wind.

I had no clue where Galestia meant to take us; I merely bowed my head silently, letting exhaustion settle, conserving my scant strength while staying wary of the unknown path ahead.

***

Back then, underwater, in that muddled haze of consciousness, he’d seen the silver-gray haired girl appear before him like a dream.

She’d extended her arms, gently cradling his cheeks; amid her drifting locks, emerald eyes drew close.

Was it really not a dream?

Then, vision swallowed wholly by darkness.

In the last moment before losing awareness, the only sensation was a soft warmth, gently covering his cold, stiff lips.

“Tiya!”

Nolan’s eyes snapped open, chest heaving violently, as if just escaped from a nightmare.

He propped himself weakly on one elbow, barely sitting up from the beached deck.

What met his eyes was an utterly unfamiliar shore.

In the calm bay, morning light danced on the waves like shimmering fish scales, the rising sun outlining the jagged rocks in warm gold edges.

All around was such peace, as if last night’s heart-pounding ordeal had been some absurd illusion.

Then, he noticed the weight on his shoulder; turning, he saw Kritiya with eyes tightly shut, head lolled powerlessly against him, seemingly deep in sleep.

The girl’s long lashes cast faint shadows on her pale cheeks, her pursed lips bloodless; the dreamscape flashed before Nolan’s eyes once more.

“Urgh…… Calm down— it must’ve been a dream!”

“Hey! You’re awake, huh.”

A voice from nearby shattered his reverie.

Galestia— or rather, to Nolan’s eyes, Gareth— held the bulging sack of treasures in one hand, the other casually pinching that ominous magic book, tone nonchalant:

“It was this little miss who dragged you from the sea— I just pulled ashore at some random spot. You two are on your own now; good luck.”

With that, she strode briskly over the skiff’s beached side onto the beach, vanishing along the coastline without a backward glance, her figure blurring in the dawn.

Nolan instinctively tried to rise and pursue, but his body ached everywhere, devoid of strength.

Moreover, Kritiya’s full weight pressed on his side, pinning him in place.

“So that means……”

Nolan gazed at the sleeping profile on his shoulder, a bewildered surge in his heart.

“That really…… wasn’t a dream?”