Victor sat on the deck of the Prometheus, the icy wind howling around him. While the sailors shivered beneath thick winter coats, their breath visible in the frigid air, he remained unfazed, his bare skin untouched by the cold. He moved effortlessly, hauling crates that would normally require multiple men, his expression neutral, as if carrying mere sacks of grain instead of heavy cargo.


    The ship groaned as it cut through the ice-laden waters, the deck occasionally slick with frost. The crew watched Victor, some with admiration, others with unease.


    "It ain''t natural," one sailor muttered, rubbing his hands together for warmth. "Man walks through this hell like it’s a summer’s day."


    Another sailor grunted in agreement, his breath fogging the air. "He ain''t even breakin'' a sweat. How in God''s name does that work?"


    A third, older sailor spat over the railing. "Ain''t our place to question. He does his work without complainin''. Better than some of you lazy sods."


    Their whispered speculation was interrupted when Mary stomped toward Victor, her boots clanking against the wooden boards. The irritation on her face was unmistakable.


    "Victor!" she barked, arms crossed. "The mage wants to see you. Now."


    Victor blinked at her but nodded. Without hesitation, he set down the crate he was carrying and followed her below deck.


    <hr>


    Below Deck


    The lower deck of the Prometheus was a labyrinth of pipes and engines, churning and hissing as they powered the ship through the frozen waters. The air was thick with the scent of oil and burning coal, the dim lanterns barely cutting through the gloom. Victor barely flinched as the ship rocked slightly, the cold metal walls pressing in around them.


    Beyond the clamor of the machinery lay an unusual chamber, its wooden walls lined with strange symbols. Scrolls and books were piled haphazardly, alongside vials of glowing liquid, rusted trinkets, and bizarre artifacts that seemed to hum with faint energy. The room carried an oppressive air, one that made Mary stop short.


    "I’m not going in there," she declared, folding her arms. "It gives me the creeps."


    Victor gave her a brief glance before stepping inside on his own.


    Within, amidst the scattered pages and arcane symbols, stood a peculiar figure. Their long black hair cascaded down to their hips, their sharp eyes gleaming with excitement as they scribbled something down, muttering under their breath.


    "Take the runes and apply it to the amount of mana and the chant f—" The figure stopped mid-sentence, eyes finally landing on Victor. A grin spread across their face.


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    "Oh! What a joy to finally meet you!"


    Victor tilted his head slightly. The person’s voice and features made it difficult to determine their gender or even their age. Their excitement, however, was impossible to miss.


    "My name is Fritz! Nice to meet you!" the mage declared.


    Victor nodded. "Nice to meet you too, Mr. Fritz."


    Fritz’s eyes widened slightly before they let out an amused chuckle. "Just Fritz will do!"


    Victor said nothing as the mage took a step closer, studying him with unabashed fascination. Their gaze flicked from his face to his arms, as if scanning him for something unseen. Then, as if barely containing themselves, they clasped their hands together.


    "Mr. Victor," Fritz began, an eager gleam in their eye, "do you know what a blessing is?"


    Victor thought for a moment before responding. "I believe it is supposed to be a reward from some sort of godly being, correct?"


    "Somewhat, yes. But not the type you’re thinking of…" Fritz leaned forward, the candlelight casting long shadows across their face. "See, some people have a blessing—mostly individuals from the Church, though others can have them as well. A blessing grants a person a strength or power they wouldn’t naturally possess."


    Victor absorbed the information in silence, his golden eyes thoughtful.


    "Why have you told me this?" he finally asked.


    Fritz’s lips curled into a smirk. "Because of what you did when you woke up. Your hands emitted lightning."


    Victor’s brows furrowed slightly. "So, you believe I have a ‘blessing’? Is that correct?"


    "Yes! Although one doesn’t need a blessing to have powers, it is the most common explanation." Fritz’s excitement grew palpable. "And if you do have a blessing—oh, how special that would be! I need to study how your body works!"


    Victor hesitated. "Ah… how exactly?"


    One Day Later,


    In the dimly lit kitchen of the Prometheus, Mary sighed deeply as yet another batch of charred fish was brought in. The cook gave her a deadpan look before dumping the burnt meal onto the counter.


    "Victor and Fritz are still at it, huh?" she muttered, rubbing her temples.


    The cook grunted. "Aye. If they aren’t experimenting with lightning, they’re murdering fish in the name of ‘science.’ I swear, if I see one more blackened fillet, I’m tossing them both overboard."


    Mary groaned. "They better not set the ship on fire..."


    Down in Fritz’s study, Victor sat on a stool while the eccentric mage stood before him, taking notes furiously. A small table beside them was littered with the remains of unfortunate sea creatures, some completely charred, others half-fried. Smoke still curled from the latest failed attempt.


    "Fascinating! Absolutely fascinating!" Fritz clapped their hands together. "Your control is still developing, but the fact that you can discharge electricity with no visible medium to draw from? Astonishing!"


    Victor frowned, flexing his fingers as faint arcs of electricity danced between them. "It doesn’t feel natural… It feels like something is there, guiding it."


    Fritz’s eyes gleamed. "Now that is even more interesting! Tell me, Victor—does it feel like something within you? Or something outside of you?"


    Victor was silent for a long moment before answering. "...Both."


    Fritz scribbled wildly in their notes, practically bouncing on their heels. "We must do more tests!"


    Victor sighed. "No more fish."


    Fritz pouted. "But—"


    "No. More. Fish."


    <hr>


    Later That Night


    Victor leaned on the ship’s railing, watching the dark sea churn beneath the moonlight. The waves crashed against the hull, their rhythmic motion soothing. He flexed his fingers again, watching tiny sparks dance between them.


    ''A blessing, huh?''


    The thought lingered in his mind. But something told him this power might help him recover his Identity.


    He closed his hand into a fist, the sparks vanishing into the night.