By Zephyria 
A chill ran down my spine.
The small, young things that had been chattering, laughing, and talking all at once erased their expressions and glared at Ivan with stiff faces. Ruben’s tension was palpable, and beside him, the Baroness, her face contorted as if she wished she could faint, bit her lip tightly and tensed her body.
Nevertheless, Ivan asked again in a calm tone.
“The Blue Turtle didn’t celebrate that wedding?”
[Why would you say that?]
“I heard it woke up recently. I thought the Blue Turtle, being kind and gentle, would have celebrated anyone’s wedding.”
[…Woke up?]
[The Blue Turtle?]
A murmur arose, like small flowers blooming.
However, when one of the Sylphs sighed and shook her head, the rest followed suit.
[The Blue Turtle did not wake up.]
“Is it still sleeping?”
[….]
The Sylphs, one by one, brushed the dust off their pristine skirts and trousers and prepared to leave. In my travels so far, I had seen many spirits happily gathered together. That was why the Sylphs’ unsmiling faces felt so unfamiliar.
The creatures exchanged glances, then spoke in unison.
[It’s a secret.]
And then they all vanished.
It felt as if I had been possessed by a ghost. Flustered, I called out to the Sylphs a few more times, but the spirits did not return. A wave surged forward, reaching my feet. I took a couple of steps back to avoid getting my shoes wet in the white foam.
Then Ivan touched his neck with his index and middle fingers, counting something.
I watched him suspiciously, wondering what he was doing, but Ivan, having counted his pulse, nodded.
“You’re alive.”
“……What?”
“No, well, you looked like you were about to kill someone, so I was just checking.”
What kind of nerve did that take? Dumbfounded, I stared at Ivan. Ivan then turned to Ruben with the most polite demeanor he had shown so far and bowed his head in apology.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said something so out of line.”
“No, it’s alright. I had already heard what I needed to hear… and learned something from the spirits’ reaction.”
“What did you learn?”
Unable to hold back, I asked, and Ruben gently covered the back of my right hand.
I didn’t know if the child was unable to bear his anxiety, or if he was trying to cover the spot where the Sylphs’ traces remained. Ruben explained calmly, keeping his hand there.
“The Sylphs of this sea could communicate with us. That means there was someone who taught them language, Mika. But… one of the Sylphs said, ‘I have no human friends.’”
“……That’s.”
I gasped, swallowing a breath.
Marianne had told me this many times before. It was natural for spirits not to speak. Spirits were merely Mana, just nature.
Since meeting the God of Oasis, many of the spirits that had followed us could speak, a fact I had forgotten until now. The spirits of the Oasis had said that the God of Oasis was the one who taught them language.
“The spirits here too… did a god teach them language?”
“Probably. It might have been a spirit higher than the Sylphs who taught them… but spirits usually don’t converse with each other using language. Their boundaries are so thin that they can understand each other’s thoughts just by looking into each other’s eyes.”
“Boundaries are thin?”
“They say that when you are near a crying Nereid, tears well up even if you don’t want to cry. Spirit Masters call such phenomena ‘emotional transference.’”
Ruben sighed once, then continued.
“And there’s a saying that spirits… do not fear death.”
“Yes? …Yes.”
“That means they don’t fear ‘their own’ death. Spirits are essentially lumps of Mana, and they are well aware that life and dissolution are connected. However… they react sensitively to the deaths of those around them. Just as they learn language, they learn death.”
“……”
“What do you think happens to the spirits a Spirit Master owned when the Spirit Master dies?”
“……Don’t they return to nature?”
“No. Most spirits spend the rest of their lives at the burial site of their Spirit Master. Spirits have no concept of death and do not fear it, but… they smile when petted, they mimic when sung to, and they cheer for small pieces of furniture that imitate humans.”
“……”
“Spirit Masters generally love their spirits very much… so spirits who lose their Spirit Masters also learn loneliness and sorrow.”
They spend the rest of their lives at the burial site. I asked again.
“But spirits… aren’t they beings that live forever as long as they have Mana?”
Ruben did not answer. But I read the answer in his silence. Spirits who lose their Spirit Masters grieve forever, as long as Mana allows. I looked at the spot where the Sylphs had vanished.
The waves surged again, but my feet remained dry. The waves broke their foam much farther away and receded.
“I suspect the Blue Turtle might be the seventh or eighth god.”
“……”
“The Golden Island…”
Ivan, who had been listening calmly, opened his mouth. Then he closed it again.
He hesitated for a moment before speaking again.
“It wasn’t an island laden with gold and treasures. It was simply an island that had a golden hue. Thanks to that, I could consider taking civilians on a pleasure cruise. It would prevent any madmen blinded by greed from jumping into the sea.”
“……You said seeing it directly would change my mind.”
“I cannot feel or see Mana. I was curious how the island would appear to a Mana user. However, none of the civilian tourists had awakened their Aura or Mana.”
“……”
Ivan extended one arm again towards the stairs, as if guiding the way. Our party walked back the way we came, treading on the white sand. I wanted to see it for myself. Was it truly a part of a god? Or something else entirely?
Why did the intermediate spirits of the deep sea cry so much, and what was this secret wedding?
If we found out, could we help with our own strength?
We boarded the Eldos Merchant Guild’s merchant ship and set sail in the direction Ivan indicated.
Ruben, with his good balance, didn’t get seasick. Yet, Ruben’s pale face turned even whiter. I wondered what thoughts were running through that sharp mind of his, but I held back, not wanting to upset him unnecessarily. He would tell me when it was time.
Instead, I stood beside Ruben on deck and intertwined my hand with his.
After about three hours of sailing in a straight line, cutting through the cold sea breeze, the sun rose high, warming the deck until it was hot.
Was the Sun God watching over us? I now believed in the Sun God, so I looked carefully, hoping he would tell me something if he saw it.
Then, a song drifted from afar.
It was not a human sound. Yet, the melody was strangely familiar.
I reflexively turned to Ivan. He was looking this way too. He glanced at my expression once, then cast his gaze beyond the deck, into the distance.
At his gesture, the sailors, who had Mana Defense Artifacts strapped to their waists, became busy.
The anchor was dropped, the sails were furled, and the ship came to a halt. We looked in the same direction.
The first thing we saw was a golden hill, rising as if pushed up from the sea. It formed a gentle, round curve. The song, similar to the melody hummed by the women by the shore, permeated my ears, my chest, my entire body. The deep sorrow they emanated was suffocating.
Ruben squeezed my hand tightly.
Ivan’s guess was correct. Ruben’s guess was also correct. That island… was made of Mana. The Divine Power, like the tremor I felt when I first saw the statue of the First Goddess, pooled on that gentle hill.
It was difficult to tell what the island looked like underwater, but I understood why Ruben was gripping my hand so tightly. Even if he wasn’t a Sword Master, Ruben was a skilled swordsman. His eyesight was naturally better than an ordinary person’s.
From the deck, stopped at a safe distance, we could see a landscape that Ivan had been unable to see all along.
Dozens, hundreds of Nereids clung to the island.
Crying, singing, with their arms, with their whole bodies, they pulled the island down, down, exerting all their might. Every time the massive island bobbed up and down, white spray erupted around it.
We stood watching, stunned, as the waves grew higher, the pleas more desperate, the spirits crying out with screams.
This should not be treated as a spectacle.
With a heavy heart, I decided to turn back, but suddenly, one Nereid looked this way. It wasn’t looking at me. Its gaze was fixed on Ruben.
Its eyes, wide open, with its hair unbound and draped in waves like mourning clothes, contorted like a demon’s.
Their gazes all turned this way.
“Ivan! Sailors and everyone, below deck… no, get into the captain’s cabin!”
Ivan didn’t question it. He immediately led all the sailors into the highest cabin on the ship. Paang, I felt the Mana tremble faintly. They must have activated a defensive Magic Circle.
Drawing my sword in my right hand, I pulled Ruben close, wrapping my left arm around his waist. Ruben didn’t hesitate, interlocking his hands with mine around my waist, squeezing with a strength that suggested we would never be separated.
A wave rose.
A very high wave.
I was not afraid. Hadn’t I split something of this magnitude before? I knew how to cleave a Sandworm in half. Since then, I had trained consistently and could now handle this new power with great finesse. I was confident I could slice through the wave without cutting the deck.
There was only one thing on my mind.
If I cut it vertically, the water would be pushed to both sides, causing the ship to sink and rise violently. If I cut it horizontally, the weakened water would pour down from above, drenching me completely. If I held on with my strength, I wouldn’t have to worry about being swept away, but no matter how I thought about it, I couldn’t guarantee I wouldn’t get wet.
Did Ruben… bring a change of clothes?