Chapter 289

Dear Readers,

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Thank you for everything,

[Silent_stiele]

*****

Open Seas, New World

A colossal ship with three towering masts loomed in the midst of a furious storm, its hull creaking against the relentless waves. It was a salvaging vessel, one that had earned its reputation by diving deep into the abyssal reaches of the sea to uncover ancient relics, treasures lost to time.

The ship's wooden decks groaned under the weight of the tempest, but the crew of nearly two hundred men and women remained resolute, braving the storm with hardened determination.

Despite the unforgiving rain pelting down, turning the deck slick with seawater, they worked tirelessly, securing ropes, checking equipment, and preparing for what they hoped would be a substantial haul from the seafloor.

The sea beneath them was a legend in itself. Tales spoke of a monstrous creature, a being so large it could devour entire countries, born from the depths of these very waters. The thought of it gnawed at the back of Albert's mind, the scholarly-looking vice captain who stood silently on deck, his gaze locked on the stormy horizon.

Albert was an imposing figure, standing nearly four meters tall, yet there was a gentleness to his demeanor. His sea-worn clothes, patched from years of service, clung to his massive frame, and in his large, weathered hands, he clutched a small wooden cross.

He rubbed it between his fingers, seeking strength from the simple symbol of his faith. But tonight, no prayer seemed to quell the unease that twisted in his gut.

The ocean was unpredictable, especially here, where legends whispered of ships vanishing without a trace, where even seasoned sailors spoke in hushed tones of the dangers lurking beneath.

Albert had weathered countless storms, faced pirates and sea monsters alike, but something about this storm—this night—felt different. There was an ominous energy in the air, as if the sea itself were alive and watching them.

His dark eyes, shaded beneath a furrowed brow, scanned the horizon once more, the pale crescent moon barely visible through the clouds, casting only the faintest silver glow across the turbulent waters.

The waves crashed violently against the ship's hull, sending cold sprays of seawater onto the deck, but Albert stood firm, his immense size helping him maintain balance as the ship rocked violently from side to side. Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the rolling waves that threatened to engulf them.

"Albert!" a booming voice pierced through the howl of the wind.

Albert snapped out of his thoughts, turning to see Cain, the ship's captain, calling out to him from the other side of the deck. Cain, a burly man with a thick beard and an ever-present grin, was wrestling with a rope that was threatening to tear free from the ship's rigging.

Despite the chaos, Cain exuded confidence, a man who had spent his life challenging the sea and winning. He had the swagger of someone who had never encountered a force he couldn't beat—be it man or nature.

"Lend me a hand here, instead of gawking at the sea, you fool!" Cain roared, his voice only slightly muffled by the storm.

Albert hesitated for a moment, casting one last look at the moonlit horizon. His unease lingered, but duty called. Muttering a quiet prayer under his breath, he gripped the cross one final time before tucking it back beneath his soaked shirt.

He hurried over to where Cain was struggling with the rope, his massive hands easily gripping the thick cord, and together they pulled it taut, securing it to the side of the ship.

Cain noticed the tension in Albert's usually calm demeanor. "Still brooding over those old stories?" Cain grinned, clapping a heavy hand on Albert's back. "Come on, you've got to stop sulking like this. They're just rumors, nothing more."

Albert remained silent, his eyes briefly flickering to the dark waters. "I've never felt a storm like this, Cain," he finally muttered, his voice low and serious. "There's something off about this sea. We shouldn't be here."

Cain chuckled, though there was a sharpness in his eyes. "Look, I know you're spooked, but we've faced worse! We've braved the New World, ventured into seas most sailors wouldn't dream of! What's a little storm compared to that? With the experience our crew has, we can dive anywhere, into any sea."

The captain's bravado was infectious, and in truth, Cain had reason to boast. Their ship had survived countless dangers, navigating through uncharted territories that no ordinary ship would dare.

The crew was seasoned, experienced divers and salvagers who had made their living plunging into the depths of the most treacherous waters. They had weathered attacks from pirates, outlasted monsters from the deep, and survived the volatile tempests of the New World.

But tonight, something felt different. Albert couldn't shake the feeling, the gnawing dread that hung heavy in the air like the storm itself.

"Besides," Cain continued, his grin widening, "this spot is a jackpot! We've already found traces of four shipwrecks down below. If the divers pull up half of what we think is down there, we'll be living like kings for a year. I'm telling you, we're sitting on a gold mine."

Albert glanced at his captain, his friend. "And what if those ships disappeared for a reason?"

Cain's laughter was hearty, but Albert could see the flicker of unease in his eyes, quickly masked by his bravado. "You really think some sea monster's going to rise up and eat us? Please, you've read too many old books, my friend."

But the wind howled louder, the rain falling in heavy sheets now, soaking them to the bone. The ship pitched violently as the storm intensified, and Albert's heart sank deeper into his chest. Even Cain's confidence couldn't dispel the creeping fear that something ancient and hungry was lurking beneath the waves.

"Don't let those old wives' tales get to you, Albert," Cain said, his voice cutting through the storm. "We're seasoned. We've faced it all before. We'll be fine. This is just another storm."

But Albert wasn't so sure. As the rain lashed at his face and the ship groaned beneath them, he couldn't shake the feeling that tonight, they were venturing into waters they weren't meant to disturb.

The storm howled mercilessly, battering the ship with torrential rain and fierce winds, but the crew's spirits remained undaunted. Amidst the swirling chaos, a shout rang out from the starboard side, barely audible over the crashing waves and relentless downpour.

"Captain! They've secured the line! The divers are coming up!" bellowed one of the crewmen, his voice strained as the wind whipped past his face, his arm raised toward the thick, soaked rope now taut with the weight of whatever lay beneath.

Cain's eyes lit up, his grin cutting through the gloom. He roared out orders, his voice booming above the roar of the storm. "Pull! Heave ho! Put your backs into it, lads! We've hauled ourselves a fortune!"

The crew, drenched to the bone but galvanized by Cain's infectious energy, threw themselves into the task. Muscles strained, and groans of effort echoed as they began to reel in the vast metallic net.

It had been cast deep into the sea, gathering whatever relics, treasures, or wreckage lay on the ocean floor. The rope creaked under the immense weight of its burden, but the crew persisted, step by agonizing step, slowly pulling the line up.

For what felt like an eternity, the storm fought against their efforts. The wind tore at their clothes, the rain slashed against their faces, and the ship pitched violently with every monstrous wave that slammed into its hull.

Yet, the crew worked in unison, a well-oiled machine born from years of hardship at sea. Even the greenest of the sailors knew their place in the storm's madness.

Albert, still uneasy but resolute in his duties, stood alongside Cain, his massive hands gripping the rope with practiced strength. The cold, biting rain dripped from his hair, but he ignored it, focusing all his effort on pulling the line in.

Suddenly, the first diver broke the surface, gasping for breath as he fought the violent waves. The crew surged forward, ropes and hands extended to pull the diver aboard before the sea could claim him again. Cain, his sharp eyes locked on the diver, moved with startling speed, barking orders. "Get him up! Quickly now, don't let him slip!"

The chaotic sea made even simple tasks like pulling the diver back aboard perilous. Just as one of the crew members secured the diver's harness, a massive wave rocked the ship, nearly throwing the sailor off balance. He teetered on the edge, his arms flailing wildly as the sea below churned hungrily, ready to swallow him whole.

Cain was on him in an instant, lunging forward and grabbing the back of the sailor's soaked coat. With a powerful yank, he pulled the crewman back from the brink, slamming him safely onto the deck. "You'll not be feeding the sea tonight!" Cain shouted with a grin, though the adrenaline coursing through him was palpable.

The sailor, breathless and pale, nodded his thanks, shaken but alive. The rest of the crew quickly dragged the diver aboard, securing him to the deck before moving to the next.

One by one, the divers resurfaced, gasping as they fought against the brutal waves. Each was quickly pulled aboard, though the storm threatened to wrench them away at every turn. The crew worked with ferocious focus, never letting their comrades slip for even a moment.

Albert, his nerves taut, caught sight of the last diver—one of the veterans of the crew—emerging from the depths. Despite his experience, the storm nearly swept him away before the crew could pull him in. His face was pale, his eyes wide, and as he was yanked onto the deck, he motioned frantically toward the sea below, something dark and foreboding lurking in his gaze.

Cain, ever the optimist, dismissed the warning with a wave of his hand. "You've made it, old man! Now let's see what treasure you've brought up!"

Under the guidance of the veteran divers, the crew turned their attention to the massive net they had been laboring to reel in. The thick, dripping metal net was enormous, straining under the weight of whatever it held beneath the churning water. With every pull, it felt as if the ocean itself was resisting, determined to keep its secrets hidden in the abyss.

But the crew was relentless. Muscles bulged, feet dug into the slick deck for traction, and together they hauled the net closer and closer to the surface. Finally, with one last mighty heave, the massive net broke through the waves, water cascading from its tangled weave.

At first glance, the haul seemed underwhelming—just a collection of rusted, barnacle-encrusted objects, half-buried under layers of muck from the ocean floor. The contents of the net appeared more like ancient junk than treasure, remnants of ships long lost to the sea. There were pieces of shattered masts, corroded metal, and debris so weathered by time it was almost unrecognizable.

Cain strode forward, undeterred by the seemingly worthless appearance of the haul. "Don't let appearances fool you," he barked to the crew. "Many of the world's greatest weapons were pulled from the sea looking like this. Who knows what treasure lies hidden beneath the rust and rot?"

The crew, despite their exhaustion, rallied at Cain's words. The storm still raged, but there was a palpable sense of triumph in the air. They had braved the furious sea, saved their divers, and pulled up a haul that could very well contain their fortune.

Cheers erupted as the net was finally secured on deck. Even the cold bite of the rain and the relentless waves couldn't dampen the crew's spirits. They slapped each other on the back, grinning and shouting in excitement. The air was electric with the thrill of what they had accomplished, the storm now just a backdrop to their victory.

Albert, however, remained silent, watching as the crew celebrated. His eyes flicked back toward the dark horizon, where the storm continued to brew ominously. There was something in the storm tonight—something ancient and hungry. His hand reflexively moved to the cross at his neck as he whispered a prayer under his breath.

The storm continued to rage, but the mood on the ship had shifted dramatically. Moments ago, the crew had been riding high on their hard-won victory, the thrill of their haul washing over them like the waves that battered the ship. But now, there was an eerie stillness, despite the violent weather. It was as if the sea itself had paused in breathless anticipation.

"Captain, look at this!" One of the crew members, peeling away layers of muck and rot from an object they had pulled from the depths, shouted over the storm. His voice, sharp with awe, cut through the din. Cain, who had been examining a pristine weapon pulled from the net, set it aside at once and moved toward the crewman.

"What've you got there?" Cain asked, his eyes gleaming with curiosity as he noticed the dark, stone-like object the man held.

"Pass it over," Cain ordered, intrigued by the mysterious item. He reached for the fist-sized hunk of dark stone, his hand barely grazing its rough surface when the ship suddenly rocked violently under a wave's assault. The stone slipped from the crewman's grip.

"Crack!"

The stone hit the deck, shattering like an eggshell. In the fragments of its broken shell, something gleamed—a tiny, crystalline fragment, no larger than a fingernail. The moment the fractured crystal came into contact with the salty sea air, it exploded with light.

A blinding, radiant glow burst forth from the shard, so intense it seemed to turn the dark storm into midday. The deck of the ship was bathed in the brilliance, the light cutting through the rain and darkness like a beacon, overpowering the storm itself.

"By the gods!" one of the crew shouted, shielding his eyes from the burning light.

"What is it…?!" another yelled, struggling to make sense of the sight.

The glow didn't dim or wane. If anything, it grew stronger with every passing second, glowing hotter and brighter, like a miniature sun. The storm raged on, but the crew was entranced. The powerful golden light seemed to pierce their very souls, casting its warmth over them in a way that was both terrifying and mesmerizing.

Cain, standing nearest to the glowing fragment, was utterly captivated. He reached down and, without hesitation, picked up the shard. The moment his skin touched it, a wave of power surged through him. His breath caught in his throat as his body seemed to transform.

His muscles swelled, his posture straightened. His skin, rough and weathered from years at sea, seemed to smooth. He felt younger, stronger, as though the fragment had unlocked a wellspring of vitality within him. His veins pulsed with an unnatural energy, his eyes wide with the sheer rush of it.

"Captain…?" one of the crew hesitantly called out, noticing the unnatural change in him.

But Cain didn't hear them. He was lost in the power coursing through him, his mind swirling in a trance-like state.

He could barely process the world around him, fully immersed in the glow of the strange relic. To him, it was as if he had stumbled upon a treasure not of this world—a gift from the gods themselves.

But not everyone was under the spell of the light.

"Cain, throw that thing off the ship... now!" Albert roared, his voice filled with urgency as he pushed through the chaos toward his friend. His heart was pounding in his chest. He had seen enough to know that this wasn't just some simple treasure. There was something far more sinister about this glowing fragment.

"Cain!" Albert yelled again, trying to snap his captain out of the trance. But Cain's eyes remained fixed on the shard in his hand, his face twisted in a manic grin as the power surged through him.

"Damn it, Cain, you bastard! Throw it away before that damned monster comes for us!" Albert slipped, falling hard against the slick, rain-soaked deck, but he scrambled back to his feet. His eyes were wide with terror. "That light… it's going to call it here!" he gasped, his voice barely audible over the storm.

His mind raced back to the legends he had studied—legends that most dismissed as mere myths, but Albert had always been careful not to tempt fate. There was one in particular: the legend of Bonbori, a monstrous creature that was said to have conquered death itself.

According to the stories, Bonbori had been a terror from the ancient seas, capable of swallowing entire islands, wiping civilizations from existence. Its power was said to be tied to a glowing, golden relic—the very relic that now shone in Cain's hand.

The legends claimed that the creature could sense the relic's light from anywhere in the ocean, and wherever that light appeared, Bonbori would rise from the depths to claim it, devouring anything in its path.

Albert's blood ran cold. It couldn't be—could it?

The air seemed to vibrate with tension, and just as Albert struggled to his feet, a voice broke through the chaos.

"Captain! Look at the sea!" a crewman shouted in horror, pointing toward the dark waters beyond the ship.

Everyone turned, eyes wide, trying to make sense of what they were seeing. A bright glow, much larger and far more intense than the one in Cain's hand, appeared beneath the waves. It flickered at first, then grew in intensity, illuminating the churning waters for miles around.

The ocean, once pitch-black under the stormy sky, now glowed with an eerie, unnatural light, as if something massive and ancient was stirring far beneath the surface.

The crewman who had spotted it was pale, his eyes wide with terror. "What the hell is that thing?!" he screamed, his voice trembling.

The water beneath them seemed to boil and churn, and the light within the sea only grew brighter, more intense, as though it were responding to the shard in Cain's hand. The crew's excitement turned to dread as they realized the truth: something was coming. Something enormous. Something ancient. And it was rising from the depths.

Albert, his heart pounding in his chest, whispered under his breath, "It's Bonbori… It's real. We've called it here."

The ship groaned and rocked under the storm's fury, but the terror that gripped the crew now had nothing to do with the weather. They had awoken something far worse than a tempest. And as the light beneath the waves grew ever closer, the crew could only watch in helpless horror as the legend of Bonbori came to life before their eyes.

The storm continued to rage around the ship, the winds howling like tortured spirits and waves crashing violently against the hull. But it wasn't the storm that terrified the crew now. Beneath the ship, in the depths of the dark, churning sea, something enormous stirred.

A monstrous shadow, so vast it made the storm itself seem insignificant, began to take shape. The glowing light within the water intensified, pulsing like the heartbeat of a leviathan awakening from an ancient slumber.

The creature's outline slowly became visible to all aboard. Its size was unimaginable. Even entire islands paled in comparison to the thing that moved beneath their feet. From bow to stern, the ship was but a speck, dwarfed by the sheer magnitude of the silhouette that loomed beneath the waves.

The crew members, many of whom had faced pirates, sea kings, and other horrors of the sea, stood frozen in paralyzing fear, their hearts pounding in their chests as they stared down at the massive form that stirred below.

It swam lazily beneath the ship, its immense body casting a shadow that stretched for miles. The glow radiating from its enormous form bathed the water in an eerie light, its movements slow and deliberate, like a predator sizing up its prey.

The crew could see the outline of the creature's massive head and the length of its body, which seemed to go on forever, disappearing into the abyss of the ocean depths. The thing that stirred beneath them was no ordinary sea creature—it was Bonbori, the legendary beast of the deep, whose very name inspired terror in sailors' hearts. It had been summoned by the light of the Pure Gold.

Cain, still holding the glowing fragment in his hand, finally realized the gravity of what he had unleashed. His eyes widened in terror as he glanced at his friend, Albert. The glowing light from the relic reflected off his face, making him look haunted.

"By the gods... what have we done?" Cain muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, as the weight of the situation sank in.

Albert, fighting against the relentless storm and his own panic, managed to reach his friend. His face was grim, his eyes full of a deep, knowing dread. He grabbed Cain's arm, his grip firm despite the wild rocking of the ship.

"Cain, you idiot! You should have thrown that thing away!" Albert roared, his voice cutting through the roar of the storm. "That light is what's calling it! Now, we're all dead men!"

Cain, his trance broken, looked at the glowing fragment in his hand as if it had turned into a curse. He hesitated for just a moment, but before he could make a move, Albert was already beside him.

"It's too late, my friend…" Albert said, his voice low but steady as he took the glowing fragment from Cain's hand. "It's already seen us. There's no escaping it now." Albert's expression was one of grim resolve. He had studied the legends, knew what was coming.

The creature beneath them—Bonbori—wasn't a force that could be fought or reasoned with. It was a force of nature, a devourer of worlds. But Albert wasn't ready to give up without a fight.

Turning toward the crew, Albert barked orders with the force of a seasoned leader. His voice, rough from years of command, cut through the storm like a whip.

"Arm the cannons!" he shouted. "Get ready to fire! We fight or we die, but I'll be damned if we don't give this monster hell before it takes us!"

The crew, most still paralyzed by fear, snapped into action at Albert's command. Those who hadn't succumbed to terror scrambled to their positions, their hands shaking as they loaded the ship's cannons.

The ship groaned under the relentless assault of the storm, but the men and women aboard moved with a desperate purpose. They weren't sure if their cannons could even hurt something that big, but they weren't about to go down without trying.

Albert glanced over at Cain, who still seemed frozen, his mind reeling from the gravity of what they had summoned. With a sigh, Albert placed a hand on his friend's shoulder.

"I'll take the Pure Gold," Albert said softly. "If this thing is going to come for anyone, it'll come for me. I'll use myself as bait to lead it away."

Cain's eyes snapped back into focus, filled with guilt and fear. "No, you can't—"

"I have to, you have a family that you need to go back to, Cain." Albert cut him off, his tone brooking no argument. "If I can lure it away, maybe the rest of you will have a chance. Maybe someone will survive."

"It's here…" Albert whispered, his voice barely audible as terror gripped him. He had hoped to lure it away before it was too late, but now it seemed that they had already sealed their fate. The monster—the legendary Bonbori—was upon them.

As the crew watched in stunned silence, the enormous creature continued to rise, its massive silhouette visible beneath the glowing water. The ship was nothing more than a speck in its presence, a mere inconvenience in the path of a force so ancient and powerful that the ocean itself trembled in its wake.

Albert looked down at the glowing fragment in his hand one last time, then back at Cain and the rest of the crew.

"Gods help us all…" he muttered before hurling himself overboard along with the Pure Gold, praying it wasn't too late.