“Holy crap, a ghost!” Twice, like two startled gulls shrieking over black water.

Man and crab howled until their throats turned to dry reeds; the crab’s bellow rolled like surf, and Eli’s voice sank like a pebble.

He stuck out a foot and stomped the “reef” under him, heel thudding like a drum on a shell. “What’re you yelling for? Big as a cart, never seen a human?”

“Tch. I haven’t, so what?” The reef shuddered like a waking hill, then the giant crab stood, shadowing the sand like a storm cloud.

Eli rolled his eyes and hopped off, gaze raking the ink-dark carapace like a knife skimming lacquer.

“You Seafolk?” His brow pinched like a tightening knot.

“What else?” The crab’s look was pure human disdain, sharp as a salt wind.

Eli’s mouth twitched; the crab loomed three Elis tall, a lump of midnight iron. “I thought Seafolk could shift to human—what’s with you?”

“What’s so good about human skin?” The crab lifted two titanic claws, scratching his backplate with a river-rock rasp. “This shell sits like a cool breeze.”

“Fine. Your joy, your funeral. Bye.” Eli shrugged like a falling leaf and headed for the coconut trees.

He meant to build a raft, a stitched leaf on the tide, to carry him wherever the currents allowed; with his strength, even drift runs like a swift stream.

The crab watched Eli chop trunks, then lash them with colorful vines that flicked like jungle snakes.

“Hey, human, what’re you doing?” The question clicked like pebbles in surf.

“Building a raft to cross the sea.” Eli shot him a look like a thorn, then sighed like wind through reeds.

“Huh? You think that pile of sticks can cross the sea?” The crab snorted, bubbles in a tide pool. “Humans are rock-headed.”

Eli tossed the log aside, casual as tossing a twig into a brook. He smiled at the crab like a wolf eyeing a fat hare. “Then, oh mighty Seafolk, how do you suggest I cross?”

“Easy. Hire us Seafolk as your tailwind. Fast as a current, safe as a harbor. Hahaha—uh? Why’re you looking at me like knives?”

“Come on, Crab-bro, we’re practically family,” Eli said, propping his elbow on the crab’s armored leg like a man leaning on a gate.

“Since when? Don’t smear my shell. Name’s Jiaohong, and I’m a clean crab,” the crab said, chest puffed like a drum.

“I prefer you steamed,” Eli muttered, voice thin as smoke.

“What was that?” snapped the crab, words clicking like stones.

“Nothing. I meant, we hit it off at first sight, right? Maybe help me out?” Eli blinked, a sly spark in a mist.

“When did we hit it off?” The crab scratched his head with a claw, sparks like flint.

“Then name your price. What’ll make you ferry me across?” Eli shrugged, shoulders light as drifting petals.

“Hmm. You look like a plain human. Why cross the sea? The Seafolk are at war, a storm eating itself. I ran to survive, and you want me to swim back into thunder?”

His tone carried a damp grievance, like rain trapped under stone.

“Seafolk civil war? Since when?” Eli’s mouth parted like a mussel shell, confusion rippling.

He’d been on the road, wind in his ears and no time for rumors, like a lone traveler outpacing his own shadow.

“Human, don’t muddy your boots in this swamp,” the crab said, tapping his twin claws together like temple bells.

“The less you know, the safer you float. Cross later on some random boat; I won’t be your wave. If they catch us, I’m soup.” He hunkered down again, folding in like a boulder in sugar-white sand.

Eli rubbed his brow, a tide of headache pressing like rain. “Crab-bro, listen. I’m strong as a storm. Truly. Just take me where I need to go, and I’ll keep you safe as shore.”

The crab poked his head out, eyes dripping disdain like cold dew. “You? A mortal I could crack with one claw. Meet the deep lords, and you’re chum. They love human meat.”

“Oh? And you, Crab-bro?”

“Me? I’m vegetarian. Meat’s too fishy; I gag like a cat.”

“You’re literally seafood calling meat fishy,” Eli said, palms up like empty sky.

“So what? I’m an oddball, proud as a lone peak. What can you do about it?” His tone strutted like a rooster on wet sand.

“You’re breaking character, hey.”

“Right, right. Anyway, no. Figure yourself out. I’m sleeping.” He settled, a dark dune beside the tide.

“Stubborn crab,” Eli said, rolling his eyes like tossing pebbles.

He leaned against the shell, ankle over knee, staring at the horizon where sea and sky stitched a silver seam, thoughts sinking like anchors.

Seafolk in chaos? Weren’t they the tightest shoal? The question hung like fog over reefs.

Could it be tied to Birand again? The name stung like salt on skin.

He frowned, then rose on the air like a gull on a thermal and drifted toward the open blue.

Over the shallows, several titanic tentacles lashed up like kelp-towers and barred his path, a living jetty.

A voice rolled out slow from the Abyss, cold as trench water. “No passage.”

Eli’s brows knotted like tangled nets. He swept both hands; pale-blue energy bloomed like frost, shaping a blade tens of meters long.

Whoosh. The light cleaved the tentacles clean, a glacier shearing.

“Intruder. Die.” The voice rumbled again, a drum from the deep.

From the dark zone, countless giant octopi and grotesque leviathans floated up like mountains rising through mist.

Eli held that blue energy like a tame lightning bolt and smiled, a crescent knife under cloud. “Let’s see how wide a ring you can throw around me, Seafolk.”

…

“For real?” Edlyn’s face twisted, a petal caught in a gust, as she listened to Eli’s tale.

“I still can’t believe it. Beings as old and strong as my father, swallowed like minnows? It’s absurd.” Her brows pinched tight as a bowstring.

Eli came from another world like a meteor across a night lake.

Edlyn, born of this one, knew what the Abyss meant, a depth that drowns names and crowns.

“No… it’s too strange,” she said, doubt like frost in her voice.

Eli stroked his chin, frown deepening like a groove in stone. He’d laid it out plain, yet Edlyn held to her tide.

So the Netherworld wasn’t set in the early weave; that shadow came late, like fog after sunset.

Birand had hidden plenty, like eels under rocks.

Fair enough; they were not the same river. Even Eli kept roots secret from all but Edlyn; a forest doesn’t bare every ring.

Birand had devoured part of Eli’s soul and learned much, yet lost much, like a net with torn knots.

He thought he held the board, but he didn’t hold the wind.

“Birand can’t beat the One Spirit, so he wants my help. But why fight the One Spirit? He was born of revenge. The One Spirit never wronged him,” Eli said, brow creasing like ripples.

“My future has nothing to do with his. Either way, he disappears like foam. Whether I bend fate or not, I won’t let him live.”

“So why seek me as an ally?”

Edlyn nodded, eyes steady as a calm lake. “Ask who he’s avenging. Trace the first spark and last ash. That arc matters.”

Eli rubbed his head, thoughts scattering like starlings. From their fusion, shards of memory shone like wet stones.

A girl named Icarina, hunted by a Celestial God, turned to ash on the wind; and Birand vowed revenge.

The details were thin, a sketch in rain; that was the shape.

“Then… is reviving Icarina tied to the One Spirit?” Eli asked, frown drawn like ink.

Edlyn leaned on him, fingers at her chin, eyes like moons in mist. “If a Celestial God can’t complete his task, who else can?”

“Right… the One Spirit. Bold as a mountain,” Eli said, breath a wry breeze.

“Or not. We’ve got no proof,” Edlyn murmured, voice soft as dusk. “Maybe Birand’s already dead. Maybe the Netherworld puppeted his soul, wanting your hand to swallow the Abyss and the Celestial God.”

“Maybe. For now, shelve it,” Eli sighed, a reed bending.

They leaned into each other and watched the sky, silence falling like snow over a pine grove.

No one knew how long the quiet ran, a river into night.

“Mmm.” Edlyn breathed out, a reluctant thread of warmth.

“What is it?” Eli rubbed her head, palm gentle as sunlight through leaves.

“When will you come back?” Her eyes went distant, two pools holding stars.

“Soon. Take care of yourself,” he said, smiling like a sunrise.

“Okay…”

“This avatar’s energy is running dry, like a lamp at dawn. Ai-chan… be good.”

Edlyn stared at his last-second goofy face and half-laughed, half-sighed, hand lifting in a wave that fluttered like a petal.

She buckled into her armor; the Demon King’s chill majesty poured out like winter wind, and Edlyn rolled her wrists, heading toward the Fiends like a blade toward war.

Behind her, a tiny Succubus watched with worship bright as lantern-light. “The Demonic Lord is still so cool,” she breathed, eyes wide as moons.

She stared longer, then gasped, mouth round as a shell. “Why… why is the Demon King suppressing so much succubus energy inside? If it erupts…”

She shook her head, patting her small chest like a sparrow. “Forget it. The Demonic Lord’s amazing. It’ll be fine.” She fluttered her wings and followed, a moth chasing a star.