Chapter 370: The Red Moon Rises

Wang Yu, Diana, and Thalassos continued toward the merfolk dominion. In time, Sieg and Noelle also stepped forth from the Seed of Eden’s pocket dimension, joining the conversation as the ever-talkative Diana spoke of the Endless Sea while their vessel cut steadily toward its destination.

They had agreed beforehand that, unless it were absolutely necessary, Sieg and Noelle would refrain from fighting or revealing their true might. Ordinary threats were to be handled by Wang Yu and Avia, lest the Dragon God take notice and descend with divine retribution.

Only against legends would Sieg be forced to intervene. After all, their very confidence in daring to set foot upon the Isle of Dragons rested upon him.

Now clad in living dragon armor and reinforced by formidable magitech armaments, Sieg possessed power far beyond the ken of ordinary legends. What lay above that threshold was uncertain, yet even a lord of flame—an Elemental Lord of legend—had fallen swiftly before him.

So long as Sieg did not unveil the full breadth of his draconic strength, the Dragon God could not mark his position nor strike him down with godly wrath.

As for Wang Yu and Avia, mere mortals who were not yet legends, why had they included in this perilous venture? One reason lay in Wang Yu’s singular nature. His strange and unpredictable qualities had time and again tipped the balance of dire events, altering outcomes through subtle influence rather than raw might.

Throughout his journey in this world, he had seldom relied on strength alone, but rather also on peculiar gifts that ended up reshaping fate itself.

Avia, too, required little explanation. Her vast learning and mastery of the arcane were an incredible aid. In crafting magitech devices and etching intricate arrays, her unmatched genius was indispensable.

They sailed for more than a day, skirting the coastlines of the Endless Sea until they reached the far northwestern reaches of the continent.

The climate of this world was exceedingly strange. It didn’t always get colder the further north you traveled. The St. Anna Snowfields, for instance, were a land of extreme frost—yet farther northwest the chill lessened once more.

From those temperate waters they pressed on toward the Tidewall, where the merfolk held sway. It was the first time Wang Yu and the others beheld a city built beneath the waves.

The merfolk were a race wholly at home in the sea. The sea was their true motherland; stepping upon land sapped their strength. Their very form allowed them to breathe freely underwater, and with their command of water currents, they could dart through the deep at astonishing speed.

The Endless Sea itself was their bastion. No land-bound race could hope to threaten them unless the merfolk chose to come ashore.

Diana had once ventured to the capital’s shadow, Aleisterre, driven by curiosity about marvels absent from her own people’s domain. What was commonplace to land-dwellers was wholly new to the merfolk.

Yet now there was something unexpected: much of the merfolk’s new settlement stood not beneath the waves, but upon them. A nascent city, still incomplete, floated above the sea, where merfolk who had taken human shape walked on legs and busied themselves with construction. It was a fledgling city, rough yet full of promise.

“I thought you would prefer to dwell beneath the waters,” Wang Yu remarked to Thalassos as he gazed across the floating structures. “Surely that is most suitable for your kind. Do these designs come from your allies on land?”

He had half-expected to need a water-breathing scroll to descend into a submerged metropolis, or even to wait aboard their vessel until the red moon rose and the merfolk guides could lead them past the Tidewall.

Thalassos smiled warmly. “Your Grace understands us well. This city is indeed built from knowledge gifted by our allies on land. That lore was not fashioned for use beneath the sea; magitech and alchemy must first be wrought above the waters.

“We require a place upon the surface to adapt and reshape that knowledge, until one day it may be woven anew to serve us in the deep. As you say, we are most comfortable beneath the waves.”

Sieg and Avia walked the half-finished city of timber and steel, marveling at its strange beauty. They did not go unnoticed.

“Excuse me,” came an eager voice. A merfolk scholar approached, his eyes alight with recognition. “But could you be Sieg Wilsbach? Would you be willing to advise us on our work in arraycraft? We have studied your writings in the Midnight Library, and we of the Twilight School have even heard your lectures!”

A merfolk scholar, tasked with overseeing the city’s enchantments, spoke with heartfelt urgency.

Because Diana had once lived in the capital’s shadow, she knew Sieg, a former Nightblade, very well.

As a result, among the merfolk, Sieg was a known entity. Though he had left Aleisterre, he had remarkable influence via the Church of Nightfall, and his reputation as scholar and professor of the newly founded Twilight School was legendary.

To them, Sieg was no mere warrior, but a master of lore and craft. To invite him into their scholarly circles was both an honor and a blessing—spiritually, academically, and practically speaking.

Sieg saw no reason to refuse. It was better to lend his guidance than idle away the hours. Together with Avia, he followed the delighted merfolk to advise them on crafting and inscribing arrays throughout the city.

Nor would this time be wasted. In aiding the merfolk, Sieg and Avia in turn observed their methods, gleaning new insights and learning techniques unique to this environment.

The merfolk of the Endless Sea lived in a world quite unlike that of the continent, and the arts they had cultivated bore their own mark. Studying their craft could allow them to glimpse innovative approaches—insights that, once transposed, could raise their own skill to greater heights.

Meanwhile, Wang Yu stood idly rubbing his chin, staring at the newly raised statue in the city square: an imposing likeness of the Lord of Sea and Storm.

He frowned. Did the merfolk truly revere the Lady of the Night, or was their devotion still largely toward the Lord of Sea and Storm? It stood to reason that the god of the sea would be the older object of their faith; he was worshipped by nearly every seafaring race that dwelt in or around the Endless Sea. Yet from what he had observed, many among the merfolk seemed to have turned toward the Lady.

Conveniently, just then, Diana came strolling past. She was accompanied by Noelle. And though the latter looked like a girl, she was in truth old enough to be Diana’s grandmother. Wang Yu beckoned Diana over, in hopes that she might help untangle this curiosity.

“Ah, it’s simple,” Diana replied breezily. “For the Lord of Sea and Storm, all we need do is set up His statues and praise Him as loudly as possible whenever the chance arises. His prayers are dreadfully long and awfully hard to memorize, quite unlike hymns to the Lady of the Night. But memorize them we must.

“Every time we dive into the deep to herd or to hunt, we recite the prayer before His likeness. In return, He grants us strength so that we do not fall prey to the sea’s most merciless storms.”

She leaned closer, glancing furtively about before lowering her voice. “But the Lady of the Night is hardly so strict. All she asks is for us to acknowledge Her—and that’s it! Isn’t She wonderful?”

The longer Wang Yu listened, the stranger it sounded. He already knew of the Goddess of Wealth, who demanded only offerings of coin. The Lord of Sea and Storm, on the other hand, seemed like a staunch traditionalist: perform the rites properly, and that was it.

“I actually think the human fishermen do it best,” Diana continued. “Their prayers are much simpler than ours. They weave their praise into their sailing songs. Each voyage, the captain and crew chant them with all their heart, and so the Lord of Ocean and Storms blesses them. Here, let me sing one for you.”

Her voice rose in a bold, sonorous chant—an old sailor’s shanty, rough in verse yet strangely stirring. The words praised the sea god from crown to toe, an effusion so lavish it might have made even the Lady of the Night blush.

“But alas,” Diana continued as she finished, “we can’t take this approach. He won’t accept it from us. For us, only the long prayers will do. Perhaps He simply dislikes our singing voices.” With a scowl of mock outrage, she raised her arms nonetheless and declared, “Praise be to the mighty Lord of Sea and Storm!”

Wang Yu gave her a thumbs-up, though his eyes strayed to the statue once more. The god’s taste seemed… peculiar. He favored fish-headed creatures while spurning the flawless voices of the merfolk.

And yet, beneath Diana’s levity, he could feel her genuine affection for her god. Her words were blunt, but her devotion was true. Her admiration flowed as freely as the sea itself. This traditionalist god clearly commanded no small quantity of faith.

“Now I’m even more curious about the God of Death and the other gods besides…”

Murmuring to himself, Wang Yu bowed before the statue of the Lord of Sea and Storm and let loose a torrent of florid praise cobbled together from every embellishment and flowery epithet he had ever learned. If the deity had any sense of humor, perhaps it would win him some favor. At the very least, a passing blessing for a clever mortal who knew how to flatter.

Hours passed. A sudden wet thud broke the night as a bloodforged spear hurtled from Wang Yu’s hand, its tip sharpened and empowered beyond measure. It pierced clean through the massive skull of a monstrous eel-like beast that had reared from the waters near the city, intent on striking.

The spear’s bloodforged essence flooded the creature, its corrosive vitality tearing through flesh and organ alike. At the same time, the Banner of Triumph channeled a ceaseless stream of life force into Wang Yu, fueling his blood arts. The more tissue was devoured, the faster the devastation spread.

The leviathan thrashed and howled until, at last, it grew still. Wang Yu’s invasive blood surged out of the wound, weaving itself back into chains that snaked into his hand. With a single heave he dragged the carcass ashore.

Above, the moon had turned blood-red. Its unearthly light bathed sea and carcass alike in a ghastly radiance—terrible, yet strangely beautiful.

Thus did Wang Yu fell the last of the sea beasts that had harried the merfolk city that night. He hurriedly boarded the great magitech vessel prepared for him, joining Diana, Thalassos, and several other merfolk captains as they set their prows toward the hidden corridor through the Tidewall.

Beneath the glow of the crimson moon, the fleet of ships departed from the merfolk city, bound for the unknown beyond.

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