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Amaia continues to listen quietly.

Dedication, sacrifice.

These sorts of unrequited altruism are respected by humans, and considered virtues.

Ægir. I have never seen that country myself. A vast, vast country, larger than Iberia, Victoria, or Ursus. Or perhaps all three combined.

I've heard that the Ægir are rationalists. But how rational can they be, compared to the rationality of our kin?

Listen to me, Herald.

There is nothing noble about sacrifice, and dedication is not necessarily a virtue.

Virtue...? Noble...?

You do not need to understand what sacrifice or dedication are. Only the mediocre would presume that the Seaborn becoming closer to humanity is any form of evolution.

No.

This is merely an increased tolerance to allow for more possibilities.

When we praise those who selflessly serve their kin, all that means is that so many more have chosen to do otherwise.

If even young gloompincers will die in the jaws of their natural predators to protect their kind, then why do we feel a need to repeatedly extol such a virtue?

Humans only sing the praises of what's rare, using morality to whitewash altruism. All in an attempt to justify their utilitarian hearts, deeming themselves more noble than beasts.

Such ridiculous self-aggrandizement. It is clear that the cracks between nations and races are tearing this land asunder.

'Life has never been without order,' my Herald. This is the final answer I sought, for which I left the land and entered the sea.

The Seaborn closes its eyes. It is contemplating the words of Amaia, the words of its kin.

It does not understand, but its kin says that it does not need to understand, only to do.

The next moment, it feels its scaleless kin place her hand upon its body.

Its kin says:

'I ask of you.'

'Remember me.'

'Set me free.'

'Consume me.'

Amaia!

No... The scent is still here. It couldn't have gotten far.

It cut through the walls corroded by the nethersea brand and returned to the ocean.

But that's not all. Something happened here. Its blood trails disappeared.

...You all stay here. I'll go after it myself.

Why would Hunters be afraid to return to the ocean? This is a disgrace.

Then stew in that disgrace, Gladiia. We need to tread carefully, and I alone will be enough to handle this.

I'll go with you.

To monitor me?

To maintain discipline.

As you please. But surely you can feel it too.

More Seaborn are approaching. This place may be closer to shore, but it's already become the heart of the ocean.

*brays*...

...Soon, soon— the grand domain.

Very soon.

The storm is tearing the sky open. The terrible waves, they come, they will come.

We shall watch. We shall wait.

We shall meet the terrible waves.