Night had fallen, and the crew had long since retired to their quarters. Who could blame them, after such an eventful day? Yet, one person remained awake.
Adrian sat by August’s bedside, watching over his unconscious form. His voice was soft, almost hesitant, as he spoke.
"I know we haven''t known each other for long, but you''ve made an impact on my life. I thank you for that."
Unbeknownst to Adrian, Bernard stood just outside the room, silently observing. A small smile played on his lips as he watched the scene unfold. With a quiet chuckle, he turned and walked away, the smile never leaving his face.
Hours later, the sun rose, casting its golden light upon the ship. Adrian lay sprawled across his bed, experiencing the most restful sleep he''d had since leaving his homeland. But his dreams were anything but peaceful.
In the depths of his slumber, a vision unfolded before him—Emily, held close by a mysterious figure with long white hair streaked with deep blue. There was a protectiveness in the way the figure embraced her, a silent promise of safety. Adrian jolted awake, his heart pounding. Was it a mere dream, or something more—a premonition, perhaps?
Shaking off the unease, he decided to step onto the upper deck for a breath of fresh air and a glimpse of the morning sun. But instead of serenity, he was met with danger.
Two Succubi stood before him, their bows drawn, arrows aimed directly at him. Before he could react, they loosed their arrows. He managed to evade one, but the second struck his left leg. A sharp pain shot through him, and he let out a cry of agony.
"You''re still too slow," Bernard remarked casually, reaching into a bag of chips as if nothing of consequence had happened.
Adrian clenched his teeth. "Why?"
Bernard plucked a chip from the bag, studying it for a moment before responding. His nonchalance only fueled Adrian’s frustration.
"Why did they shoot me?!" Adrian demanded.
"I told them to," Bernard answered, taking a bite. "To be honest, you''re still too weak. If you can''t even react to an arrow, how do you expect to fight alongside August?"
Adrian had no response. He knew Bernard was right—his lack of skill was undeniable. The battle against Gil had made that painfully clear. His movements had been sluggish, his stamina drained far too quickly.
"You don''t have to worry," Bernard continued. "While August recovers, I''ll train you in the fundamentals of combat."
"Combat?"
Adrian knew how to fight, but he was far from a skilled warrior. His previous battle had been a mess, an uncoordinated clash of raw power with no precision.
"Enhancing and infusing your strikes is useful, but if you don''t know how to apply it properly, what''s the point?" Bernard said. "I''ll teach you a technique to improve your concentration, manage your stamina, and even close minor wounds."
Adrian''s eyes widened. This was exactly what he needed. Mastering his Source Energy would give him control over his power, making him more efficient in battle. He nodded in silent acceptance of Bernard’s training.
This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
Erica, who had been standing nearby, immediately set to work stitching Adrian''s wound. Despite her efforts, the pain remained.
Moments later, Emily emerged from the lower deck. Her gaze fell upon Adrian’s injured leg, then darted to the Succubi holding their bows. Finally, her eyes settled on the bloodied arrow beside him.
A storm of emotions crossed her face—anger, concern, disbelief.
"Don’t worry, he’s fine," Bernard said between bites.
Emily turned her attention to him, her jaw tightening. The casual way he spoke made her blood boil.
"What did you do?" she demanded, her voice laced with fury.
"Nothing," Bernard replied, licking the salt from his fingers. "Just needed to teach him something."
"His leg is injured! What are you saying?!"
Before Emily could berate Bernard further, Adrian forced a reassuring smile. "I''m fine," he said, though his voice lacked conviction.
She saw through his attempt to placate her but said nothing. Instead, she turned on her heel and made her way toward the lower decks.
"For someone you just met, you care a lot about him," Bernard called after her.
Emily didn’t respond. She simply stormed down the steps, her anger evident in every movement.
Meanwhile, Adrian was puzzled by the lack of pain and turned to Erica.
"Why doesn’t it hurt?" he asked.
"I mixed a special medicine into my webs. You won’t feel pain—at least, not yet," she replied.
His brows furrowed. "What do you mean, ''not yet''?"
"You’ll see," she said cryptically before retreating below deck.
Adrian’s body felt light, his movements fluid. But Erica’s words lingered in his mind. Just how bad would the pain be once the medicine wore off?
Bernard’s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.
"Come with me," he instructed, leading Adrian to the ship''s railing.
Adrian followed, looking out over the vast ocean. The endless blue stretched in every direction, waves gently rocking the ship.
"Look at the sea," Bernard said. "It''s a vast, open expanse."
"Yeah, it is," Adrian replied. "But what does that have to do with training?"
Bernard smirked, his expression turning downright sinister.
"You''re going to swim in that vast, open expanse."
Adrian barely had time to react before Bernard shoved him overboard.
The impact with the water sent a cold shock through his body, but he didn’t panic. He had experience swimming—countless hours spent fishing with his mother had made sure of that.
He resurfaced, spitting out seawater. "What the hell is this about?!"
"We’re starting light," Bernard called down. "Five hours. No rest."
"Huh?! I can’t swim for that long!"
"Then I guess you’re going to die."
A chill ran down Adrian’s spine—not from the water, but from the sheer indifference in Bernard’s voice. He could feel sweat trickling down his face, but as the salty ocean waves lapped against his skin, he realized it wasn’t sweat at all.
The ship continued sailing forward, leaving him behind.
"Better start swimming, or we’ll lose you."
Adrian clenched his jaw. I know I shouldn’t say this out loud, so I’ll just think it... Fuck you, you piece of shit.
Below Deck, in the dimly lit lower deck, Erica knocked on the door to Emily’s room. There was no response.
After a moment of silence, she knocked again, this time more forcefully.
Emily opened the door, her expression anything but welcoming. "What do you want?"
"Let’s talk."
With a reluctant sigh, Emily stepped aside, allowing Erica to enter before shutting the door behind her.
"What do you want to talk about?"
"I want to know why you’re so angry," Erica said bluntly. "Is it because Adrian is hurt, or because you haven’t had enough time with your master since his return?"
Emily clicked her tongue and looked away, refusing to meet Erica’s gaze. Her reaction alone was enough to confirm the truth.
"So, which is it?" Erica pressed.
"Both, I guess," Emily admitted after a long pause. "I haven’t seen my master in so long, and now that he’s back, he’s spending all his time with Adrian. And it makes me angry... How easily he hurt the person who saved him."
"I get it," Erica said. "But you should know that everything he does is for Adrian and August’s sake. He’ll have time for you—you just have to be patient."
Emily exhaled slowly. "I suppose you’re right."
Thirty minutes had passed. Bernard remained on deck, watching Adrian struggle against the relentless waves.
Fatigue had set in. Every stroke felt heavier than the last, his limbs growing sluggish. Yet, he pushed forward, knowing that stopping meant sinking.
An hour passed. His body was nearing its limit.
Then, it happened—his strength failed him, and he began to sink.
Bernard didn’t move.
Deeper and deeper Adrian went, his vision darkening.
And then, a memory surfaced—a tale his mother once told him.
The Guardian Spirit of Hvitt Fenrir.