act17side

You felt it. Of course, he no longer is concealing himself, which means he has proven what he wished to prove. He has said what he wished to say.

Alas, I thought he'd be able to understand.

...Understand what?

If this scent belongs to his master rather than something else that's turned into a Seaborn, then I'd suggest giving up on him ever understanding.

Based on what I've seen of your shallow experiences and moral judgments, your idea of a 'trustworthy' Ægir is usually just whoever stands out most.

(Ulpianus has made his move. In that case, I can't waste any more time with her. There's no more point in stalling.)

(I must find the Herald. I must... welcome it.)

Hm? Leaving so soon? I thought we were just getting started.

Maybe next time, Laurentina.

If we ever meet again, let's have another chat. About Ægir.

Skadi doesn't blink.

She couldn't be more familiar with these movements. Simple, straightforward, a force of nature.

She remembers how her colleagues at Rhodes Island assessed her, as well as how she assessed the two in front of her, back when she first saw them.

However...

You were all chosen, deemed worthy by Ægir. Under my command, you should've been prodigies of exacting violence, your hunting genes complementing your skills.

But you've regressed, Skadi.

You...

You're...

It's not dead yet, Ulpianus. Don't be in such a rush to patronize Skadi.

I'm aware.

Take heed again, Skadi. Just like before, I'll only teach you once.

(Screeching howl)

Ulpianus swings his weapon.

The strike is straightforward and without excess. It is sufficiently swift, such that the Seaborn cannot avoid it despite its wishes.

Afterwards, an enormous rumbling sound proves that the strike was also sufficiently strong.

By the time the Seaborn is miserably thrown against a turret that's never been fired, its body had already been considerably cut down in size.

Like so. Grasp its movements. Make a decision. Swing your weapon. Aim to kill.

This is how you fight them. You are slower than before, and more cautious. Your life on land has been no small influence on you.

I... I never thought... but how did you survive?

I thought you died... But you, and Swordfish, how did you two survive?

What about the others then? The 1st Company, and the 4th Company? Did they—

By my standards, my survival was a tragedy. The Seaborn told me that the others could not be allowed to live on. They would not have overlooked anything in their nest.

Of course, based on Gladiia's usual attitude, by her standards this was also a disgrace.

Finish it off first. As for your situation, we can wait for all the Hunters to arrive.

You, in this dry, floating vessel... on this ship, hunt. You, left our kind.

Death, does not benefit our kind. Your death, also does not benefit our kind.

You—

Urk—!

Pah. What kind of hunter talks before his quarry is dead? That's the first lesson we teach in field training.

I seem to always be cleaning up after the messes of you Ægirs.

What is it you want? What do you need with my ship? Look what you did to Iberia, and to Victoria. Letting monsters overrun Ursus...

(Roars) —!

Urgh, stubborn bastard!

(Screeches) ——!

Run it through! Now, Alfonso!

Take this!

Haah...

I-Is it over?

Ugh... I can't... feel my hand...

...Look out beneath you!

What?

It's not dead yet!

... (Blood gurgles in its throat) Grrrgh...

Urgh...

It chipped through the deck. Trying to jump onto the chopping block yourself, you sack of meat?

...No, not quite.

After it! We didn't chase it back into the cabin, there are still more of its kin on the ship!

It's looking for her!

...Urgh... *gurgle*...

(Chewing sounds) ...Urgh... Kraaahh...

Herald.

...Scaleless, kin.

Wounds, can't be healed. No way, to nourish our kind.

They all, attack. Attack, but not to hunt.

Amaia simply listens quietly.

The wound Specter left on her slender body continues to bleed, dripping into the pool of blood already shed by the Seaborn and mixing into one.

Amaia simply listens quietly.

...You, also hurt.

You, consume me.

Kin, you live.

Our kind, will continue, and survive.

The Seaborn bows its body, lowering itself at Amaia's feet.

It closes its eyes and awaits death.

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.