“Cough... what happened?” Yaya’s head swam; heat skated down her cheek, and the water tasted of blood and smoke, wrong under the sea’s cold hush.

The city’s ward had shattered. Raw seawater mixed with soulwater, and a crushing black tide pressed in; broken homes met a second ruin like reefs struck twice.

“It hurts... I think I’m wounded. Was it an attack? The city...” Her fear beat like a trapped fish against her ribs.

“I feel like I forgot something...” The thought flickered like a light at depth.

“...!?”

“Dreamsound! Little Tangxue!” Panic hissed like a leak; Yaya bolted for home, ignoring the rip of reopened wounds, leaving a red ribbon through the ruins.

The whole city lay wrecked. Even the Merfolk palace was shattered, while magic-fed flames burned madly undersea like hellfire, and corpses drifted like broken shells.

Yaya’s eyes saw nothing else; she chased one image—her family—like a lone swimmer chasing shore.

Along the way, no other clansman breathed. The silence folded around her like deep water.

Terror stole her breath; vertigo spun her like a whirlpool. She fell, dazed, and only after ten long minutes did her senses crawl back.

“Uh...” The sound was small, like air from a cracked conch.

She forced her memory to rewind for a few seconds. Her face went pale and stiff, and she pushed her body upright on will alone, like lifting against a current.

That explosion had mangled her. If she was this bad, others were probably worse, like ships smashed by a storm.

The deep-blue city wore an eerie red-gold sheen; unquenchable flames declared an ending like a sunset that never dies. Yaya crossed fire and rubble to her door.

“...Safe?” Her pupils tightened like pinholes. She rubbed her eyes, blinked hard, then burst forward in sudden joy, like a tide that flips.

“Dreamsound! Little Tangxue! Are you okay!?” Her voice rang in the salt air like a bell.

Dreamsound’s delicate figure curled on the sofa, face grey as ash, trapped in a nightmare’s net. No shadow of Tangxue stirred here.

“...” Yaya didn’t shake Dreamsound awake. She searched every corner, calling Tangxue’s name like a gull cries to the wind.

No one answered. The silence gnawed like rust.

What now? Her gaze trembled at the inferno outside, a vision of hell made of water and fire. She bit her lip, changed clothes, and braced herself to go.

Their home carried a special ward, twin to the palace’s. If this place held, then her elder brother and sister should still be fine, like pearls kept in shell.

She slipped out, shut the door tight, recalled where she last saw Tangxue, and ran that way without looking back, shouting her name into the smoky sea.

Danger drifted close, quiet as a shark.

A warped silhouette lunged from behind, a long-handled weapon flashing like a sting. Yaya slipped to the side; her water bullet hit, but barely rippled him. He kicked her through stone like a wave slamming a buoy.

“Mm!” She shoved the rocks off and stood, vision clearing like silt settling. A human man—strange, and wrong—stood there.

His aura felt deadly, cold as steel in brine.

“Oh? Still standing?” He walked in with a dead face, wreathed in the same flames that ate the city, like a man carrying a wildfire in the sea.

“You should’ve stayed down. It’d be good for both of us...” His tone was flat, like a knife’s back.

“Die... you base species.” His words dropped like lead.

He raised his spear at Yaya, ready to drive it home. At the brink, her light flared; she dodged and loosed a water bolt like a comet.

It hit and burst, scattering into hundreds of water arrows, then scattering again; in that instant it detonated ten times like a storm breaking.

The man’s presence vanished with the ground beneath him; only a spearhead clinked on stone like a tooth. Yaya collapsed, spent; that strike drank her last magic.

Forget finding Tangxue—she could barely keep a flame of life, like a candle in a gale.

“Not bad. Half-dead, and you still had that in you.” The voice slid in from her right like a cold current.

The same man stood there again, untouched, like a shadow that won’t drown.

“Who are you...?” Her words scraped like sand.

“Hm?” He peered at Yaya, puzzled, like a child staring at a shell. “You want this man’s name? I’d love to tell you, but how would I know...”

“Go join your parents... Relax. Your whole family will meet soon. Not one will be left behind.” His promise felt like frost.

“!?” Yaya’s eyes snapped wide, bloodshot and feral, breath ragged like a hunted fish. She glared to speak, but strength had left her bones.

He drew a short blade from his belt. He angled for her throat, ready to drop the cut like a guillotine.

At that fatal beat, a long spear drilled through rubble behind Yaya and nailed his chest, true as a north star. His calm cracked like thin ice.

“A survivor?” He frowned, then coolly gripped the shaft to pull it free. As it neared the edge of his flesh, failure struck—his knee hit stone, and his aura thinned like ebbing tide.

“Tch. This body’s failing already...” His voice soured like iron in rain.

A near-divine vessel, one of the finest among that swarm of beings—ruined after not even two strikes shy of a miracle. Useless, like a blade gone blunt.

This time he was truly dead. Yaya stared at the corpse, heart pounding like drums; death had stood inches away, cold as a blade.

With that short blade at her throat, she had felt her heartbeat falter, like the sea drawing back before a wave crashes.

She didn’t have time to process his words. She turned toward where the spear had flown, hope flaring like dawn. The one who came was her brother—familiar as home waters.

“Brother! How’s the palace? Are Father and Mother okay?” Her voice shook like a reed.

The blue-haired Merfolk youth wore a tangled look. He swam to Yaya, lifted her, and checked her wounds in broad strokes like a healer in a storm.

“Yaya... you’re badly hurt.” His voice was steady, like a hand on the helm.

“I’m fine. Just tell me! How are Father and Mother now?” Panic shimmered in her eyes like light on waves.

“Brother... Father and Mother... they’re okay, right?” The question hung like fog.

“...I don’t know.” His gaze slid away like a fish. He turned and rummaged in his pocket, quick as a diver’s hands, and pulled out an ornate box.

He opened it. Inside lay a beautiful pearl, gleaming like moonlight in water.

A Mermaid Tear—holy and sure. If a breath remained, it would bring you back, like spring after winter. Through the Merfolk’s long line, fewer than a hundred remained, each heavy with meaning, never meant for use.

As a top candidate for the next emperor, he had the right to carry one. Yaya’s state was dire; without it, she would die, her flame snuffed like a wick.

He didn’t hesitate. He took the treasure and slipped it into Yaya’s mouth, then steadied her jaw as she stared, stunned, like a deer in light.

“Listen, Yaya. We’ll only know the full picture once we find the Sea God Trident. I woke to hunters at my back. The palace was chaos—every second, another clansman fell like rain.

Father the King was separated from us. I’m the only one who made it out...” His face darkened like a sky before storm; his fist clenched by reflex like a knot.

“Those folk from the continent... They took our kindness and spat on our trust, then struck without warning. Yaya, remember—live. If any of us is most likely to be the next emperor, it’s you.”

He bound her with a spell for now, a soft net. Then he carried her home on his back like a swimmer bearing a wound.

He settled her inside, stood in the doorway, and offered a smile like a lantern. “I’m going to find the Sea God Trident. Don’t worry... I’ll come back.”