Starfire, Sharks and Saviors

PREVIOUSLY-

He whispered the name of the first flame, and a sword of starfire ignited in his hand.

Skaleg saw it and halted.

"…Impossible."

The figure raised the blade.

"No necromancers today."

He struck.

And the space split.

--x—

The scenery changed again.

SPLASH.

Skaleg's feet landed not on stone or battlefield—but surf.

Warm brine kissed his skin. His skin.

His eyes opened—human eyes—and widened in disbelief.

A golden beach stretched before him, waves lapping gently at the shore under a sky too blue to be real.

A breeze tousled his hair—silky, smooth, unmistakably black. His hands—no longer bone, but sinew and flesh—rose to his face, trembling.

Fingers brushed skin. Warm. Real.

FWIP.

A mirror spun through the air and landed lightly in his palms.

Skaleg stared.

A face gazed back—young, beautiful, absurdly so. Pale, sculpted features. Emerald eyes that shimmered like sea glass. A flawless jawline that made him look more like a demigod than a scholar.

He blinked. Then spun toward the source.

There, strung between two coconut trees, a man lounged in a hammock, floral shirt unbuttoned, pink shorts riding high on his pale thighs.

A straw hat covered his face—until he tilted it back to reveal eyes of amethyst, glowing with lazy mischief.

"Just chill," said the man.

"Skaleg."

Skaleg's jaw dropped. He stared at the mirror again, then back at the man.

"Master Vincent!"

He practically screamed it, laughing.

"It seems I'm back to full power!"

Vincent swung his legs over the hammock's edge and rose with practiced ease. The floral print flapped around him like the cloak of a vacationing deity.

"Skaleg."

He pointed toward a pair of canvas beach chairs, where fishing rods waited in stands like idle guards.

"Let's do some fishing."

Skaleg turned, blinking at the sea, then back to Vincent. He stepped gingerly across the sand, still in disbelief.

"With all due respect…"

His lips twitched.

"I don't think a beach is the most ideal fishing ground."

Vincent chuckled, walking barefoot across the surf's edge.

"Oh?"

"Then what would you recommend?"

Skaleg crossed his arms, thoughtful.

"A river, perhaps. Freshwater attracts more—"

"Can you catch a leviathan in a river?"

Vincent cut in, deadpan.

"Well—no."

"Then."

Vincent grabbed the nearest fishing rod, fingers curling around the handle like a duelist preparing to draw steel.

"We'll fish at sea."

BOOM!

The skies split like a page torn from the firmament as Vincent's cast thundered outward. The fishing line vanished into the horizon—miles of ocean swallowed the hook in seconds.

He turned to Skaleg with a smirk.

"Your turn."

Skaleg rolled his shoulders, the old confidence slipping into place like armour.

"As you command, my lord."

He slammed his foot into the sand. The beach trembled. A colossal spine burst from the ground—vertebrae stretching high like the skeleton of a long-dead sea god.

At its tip dangled a chunk of meat, twitching suspiciously. It pulsed… faintly. Like a thinking organ.

Vincent raised a brow.

"Is that a brain?"

"Yes."

Skaleg smiled, smug.

"A kraken's. Preserved."

"Stimulates predatory instincts in deep sea species."

SWISH!

The spine arced skyward and snapped forward like a whip, hurling the bait into the surf beside Vincent's.

It landed with a splash that sent waves tumbling across the shore.

"Master."

Skaleg turned to him, grinning.

"Let's see who catches the bigger monster."

Vincent chuckled, amethyst eyes glinting.

"You're on, scholar."

Vincent leaned back in the chair, the fishing rod balanced between two fingers.

"Skaleg."

The necromancer turned, instinctively straightening.

"Yes, my lord?"

Vincent didn't look at him. His gaze remained fixed on the sky—cloudless, impossibly blue, stretching forever.

"Mentoring,"

He said, voice soft, almost conversational.

"It's the easiest thing in the world. And the hardest."

Skaleg furrowed his brow.

"I… don't follow."

Vincent smiled faintly, eyes still skybound.

"If you tell them to do everything on their own, you're just abandoning them."

"If you help them too much, you're feeding them scraps and calling it growth."

"Give advice on every decision—they forget how to reflect."

"Say nothing at all—and you were never really there."

Skaleg's shoulders slumped. He looked down at his rod, silent.

Vincent's voice cut gently through the surf.

"There's no perfect way."

He finally turned to face Skaleg.

"No divine formula. No guaranteed outcome."

"All we can do is try to be present. To care, without control. To offer strength—but never replace it."

The wind stirred the sea. A wave licked the shore. Skaleg let the words sit inside him like a tide turning.

Vincent looked away again, smiling.

"You didn't fail him, Skaleg."

"He stood. He fought. That's your mark on him too."

Skaleg squinted at his bait,

"Master, I think I caught something…"

IN MEDUSA's LABYRINTH

"Sig!"

Theobald skidded to a stop, his hands flying to Sigmund's mangled arm.

"What the hell happened?!"

His words came in a flood, each more frantic than the last.

"Who did this to you?"

"Why are we in a temple?!"

"Where even is this?"

"Is that leopard yours?!"

His eyes widened suddenly.

"Wait. Do you have a girlfriend now?!"

WHACK!

Sigmund bonked him on the head with his knuckles.

"Let me breathe before you interview me, bastard."

Theobald rubbed the sore spot, pouting.

"A thousand pardons, Your Majesty. Please, enlighten this peasant."

Sigmund rolled his eyes so hard it was a miracle they stayed in his skull.

"Alright, alright, here's what happened—"

A FEW MOMENTS LATER—

"Okay!"

Theobald clapped his hands and nodded with mock seriousness.

"So, that sleeping lady wrapped in the cocoon is the Medusa."

He pointed dramatically.

"This glorious feline is Nyx—your badass panther-partner."

Then his gaze drifted sideways—toward the girl in mercury armour.

His grin widened.

"And this adorable warrior maiden here is your lover."

He leaned in with a wink.

"Quite the charmer, aren't you, Sig? I see you've been busy."

BONK!

Sigmund smacked the back of his head again, harder this time.

"She's not— You fool!"

His face turned a shade pinker.

"She's a colleague. We just… met today."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Lira's head droop ever so slightly. Her shoulders tensed, lips tightening as if to hide a thought. Something pinched quietly in his chest.

Theobald raised an eyebrow with theatrical suspicion.

"Miss Lira,"

He said, lying back lazily on the floor like a gossiping noble.

"Can you confirm or deny this outrageous claim?"

Lira hesitated. Her eyes flitted from Theobald to Sigmund, then down to her own fingers curled tightly around her spear.

"Umm… He's right,"

She said quietly.

"I—I just met him today."

"Hmm."

Theobald rested his arms behind his head.

"Well, just know that you have my blessing."

Lira's cheeks bloomed red, her nose scrunching as she turned away.

Sigmund coughed and looked anywhere but her.

Even Nyx rolled his eyes and nodded to Rook with a grunt that sounded suspiciously like a sigh.

"Krr…"

Rook patted Nyx's shoulder with a feathered wing and let out another sigh.

"Prr—What can I say,"

Nyx purred, tail flicking behind him,

"The boy is absolutely clueless."

"Krr—Mine is a cinnamon roll with his brain stuffed in his boots. The little idiot was feeling pity for the damn kraken."

Rook cooed softly in agreement.

Both beasts sighed.

Then Nyx's whiskers twitched, his gaze drifting sideways with a spark.

"Prr—So… is your boy some kind of monster eater?"

Rook bobbed his beak, his tone thoughtful.

"Krr—He is. Has a talent to absorb nutrients from… things. But the boy's got a weak heart."

"Prr—I can understand,"

Nyx mewed,

"One day together and it feels like we've been babysitting them for years."

Both nodded in solemn unison.

"Prr—By the way,"

Nyx tilted his head, eyes narrowing playfully,

"You've got some fine back muscles. Those feathers—majestic."

Rook scoffed, flaring one wing dramatically.

"Krr—You're too humble, friend. I can see you never miss a leg day."

"Krr / Prr."

The two familiars cackled in unison.

"They've already become buds."

Sigmund and Theobald chuckled in unison, watching their familiars like proud older brothers.

"Boy,"

Gorvax's voice cut in, high and deep.

"Where is Skaleg?"

Sigmund's expression shifted. His brows furrowed.

"I… don't know. He just vanished after the fight."

Gorvax tilted his head slightly, eyes narrowing beneath his furry brow.

"Is that so?"

SIZZLE—

Without another word, Gorvax's spectral form wavered—then dissipated like smoke under moonlight.

ON THE BEACH-

Gorvax materialized onto the sandy shoreline, eyes adjusting to the sunlit expanse. He glanced down—

Thicker fur. Broader frame. Real muscle under real skin.

"Oh! Finally—my real body!"

He grabbed a fistful of his chest fur and kissed it.

"Oh, how I've missed you, you glorious beast—!"

Then he froze.

"Wh—what is this?!"

His jaw dropped as he looked at his clothes: a white shirt plastered with pink hearts and… purple shorts.

"What the hell is this embarrassing attire?!"

Sniff—

A divine aroma tickled his nose. Charcoal. Brine. Fat sizzling in oil.

'What is this fabulous scent?!'

He turned—and beheld the absurd tableau:

Skaleg, in his human form, was wearing a black shirt imprinted with bones and matching purple shorts. He stood beside a spit, slowly turning what looked like a tiger-shark over open flames.

"Hey Gorvax!"

Vincent waved from a nearby deck chair, oil in one hand, bottles of salt and spice pinched between the fingers of the other.

Skaleg turned his head slightly.

"Oh… it's Gorvax."

Then he went back to rotating the shark, utterly unfazed.

"Master! Skelly!"

Gorvax bellowed, tears springing to his eyes,

"How dare you cook a damn shark just for me?!"

Skaleg paused mid-turn.

"…What? For him?"

Gorvax strutted forward like a proud mother hen, hand outstretched reverently toward the roasting fish.

SLAP!

Skaleg's palm smacked his hand away with surgical precision.

"It needs more time."

Gorvax scowled, leaning in with the air of a professional.

"Oh, it doesn't. The meat shows its real flavour when it's a little raw."

Skaleg narrowed his emerald eyes.

"You dare speak of flavour… to me?"

He gestured grandly toward the fire.

"This fish has been marinated in crushed kelp leaves, seasoned with volcanic salt, smoked with ghost-pepper oil, and massaged lovingly with seaweed-wrapped obsidian pebbles. Lovingly, Gorvax."

Gorvax huffed, folding his arms.

"Yeah, yeah, you treated it like a spa customer, I get it. But you're overcomplicating it. Shark is about instinct. It needs a wild bite. Something primal."

He jabbed a claw at the barely-charred meat.

"Char that thing too long, and you'll cook the soul out of it."

Vincent chuckled from the side, sipping a coconut.

Skaleg raised one finger like a scholar at a symposium.

"Cooking, my dear dog, is the discipline of patience. A culinary rite. Like spellcasting, the longer you channel it, the richer the effect."

Gorvax rolled his eyes.

"Says the man who burnt pasta once and called it 'summoned charcoal'."

"I was young."

"You were six-hundred."

"A young six-hundred."

Vincent sighed, smiling to himself.

Skaleg wiped his hands on a cloth, pacing now like a philosopher before a classroom.

"You see, Gorvax—meat is like a student."

"Oh no," Gorvax muttered.

"It must be nurtured. Slowly, carefully. Heat must kiss it, not seize it. Spice must court it, not smother it. Oil must glisten, not drown. You mature it… like a pupil under a wise master's care."

Gorvax snorted,

"And what if it's a wild brat of a student? You just throw the kid in fire and pray he tastes better when charred?"

"Exactly,"

Skaleg said without missing a beat, flipping the shark,

"Because even the wildest meat—I mean, mind—can be tempered with just the right seasoning of pain."

Vincent raised a brow.

"That's the most ominous metaphor I've heard this vacation."

Gorvax slapped a knee and cackled,

"Now that sounds like you, Skaleg."

Then his eyes softened as the scent grew stronger.

"…Still," he muttered,

"I've missed this. You. All of it."

Skaleg slowed. The fire crackled gently.

"…Me too, dog."

A moment passed between them, quiet and warm.

Then—

Vincent tossed a wooden platter their way.

"Now shut up and eat before it burns. Or I'll show you what philosophy tastes like when it's overcooked."

Vincent, Gorvax and Skaleg exchanged a glance, then lunged for the shark.

BACK TO MEDUSA-

"And that's how I met Rook."

Theobald smirked,

"Th-That's so cool!"

Lira clapped encouragingly. Sigmund's jaw clenched at the reaction.

'What's so cool about falling off a waterfall?'

He scoffed lightly.

Theobald's eyes darted between Sigmund and Lira,

"Miss Lira,"

Theobald's head cocked slightly to one side,

"It seems that Sig is jealous."

Lira glanced at Sigmund,

"W-Why would he—"

Theobald leaned closer,

"Whisper…Whisper…"

Lira's mouth twisted into an awkward smile,

"I-Is that so?"

Theobald nodded like a child given candy,

"Yes, yes, it is."

Theobald beamed, thoroughly enjoying himself.

Sigmund stared at the two, lips pressed into a thin line.

"I'm not jealous," he muttered under his breath.

Theobald raised a finger like a sage.

"You see, Miss Lira, when someone crosses their arms, avoids eye contact, and chews the inside of their cheek—"

He paused, dramatically peeking at Sigmund.

"—that's textbook envy. Volume One. Chapter Two: 'When your friend gets the applause and you get the floor splinters.'"

"I'm just annoyed you got praised for falling down a waterfall,"

Sigmund grumbled, arms still crossed.

"Gravity did all the work."

Lira chuckled, hand covering her mouth.

"But it takes courage to fall that epically."

"Oh, come on," Sigmund muttered.

Theobald clicked his tongue.

"Sig, don't worry. You've got charm too. Brooding. Sharp-tongued. Secretly nice. Girls love that."

"I'm not trying to charm anyone."

Theobald raised both eyebrows.

"Oh? Then why were you blushing when she patched your wounds earlier?"

"I wasn't—"

Sigmund stopped mid-sentence. His ears tinged red.

Lira looked away quickly, cheeks pink.

"I-It's just healing magic…"

Theobald raised his hands in mock surrender.

"Ah, young love. As old and predictable as my digestive problems."

"Say one more word, Theo,"

Sigmund growled, grabbing a loose pebble,

"Just one more."

Theobald grinned wide.

"See? Fiery. Girls love that too."

The pebble hit him square on the forehead.

BONK!

"OW!"

Nyx snorted.

Rook sighed.

"Krrr- If this is how they flirt, we're going to need therapy."

Nyx nodded, flicking his tail.

"Prr- At this point I'm rooting for the waterfall."

A LOW HUM.

The cocoon of lead surrounding Medusa shivered.

Sigmund, Theo, Lira, Nyx, and Rook all turned in unison.

Crack...

A thin line split across the surface of the metal shell. Then another.

Clink… Clink… CRACK!

The cocoon burst apart in fragments, mist hissing into the room as the molten lead slithered back into the pool at Lira's feet.

Medusa sat upright, gasping. Her golden eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, darting wildly across the room like a trapped hawk.

Her breath hitched as she stared at her surroundings — the temple, the shattered statues, the silent group of strangers staring back.

"Where… am I?"

Her voice was soft. Hollow. Almost afraid to exist.

Lira stepped forward slowly, hands up.

"You're safe. It's okay."

Medusa flinched, wrapping her arms around her knees. Her serpent-hair hissed softly, confused and defensive, weaving around her shoulders.

"I saw him. The god…"

Her voice trembled.

"He was going to—he was smiling—and I couldn't—Athena, she—"

Her body shook.

Lira knelt beside her, placing a hand gently on her back.

"She won't hurt you again. And Poseidon is gone."

Medusa blinked.

"You're… not priestesses?"

"No."

Sigmund's voice was firm but calm.

"We're not here to use you. We're here because someone has to rewrite your ending."

Medusa's gaze landed on him — bruised, bloodied, his arm in a makeshift wrap, but standing tall. The Iron Hound.

Theo raised a hand awkwardly.

"And I'm the guy who showed up on a kraken. Long story."

Nyx purred softly and rubbed against her shoulder. Her snakes recoiled briefly, then relaxed.

"…You're strange people."

Medusa murmured, almost a laugh in her voice.

"Not only did you try to save me. None of you are afraid of me."

Sigmund crouched next to her, avoiding eye contact out of respect.

"You were cursed. Not born this way. There's a difference."

She stared at him — for a long moment, no words, just trembling breath.

Then she whispered,

"…Why do you care?"

Silence.

Sigmund handed her a piece of cloth.

"We care, because that's our mission."

Theobald blinked,

"Our?"

Medusa wore the cloth around her eyes,

"Travellers, you have done enough. Please leave."

Lira crouched beside her,

"Miss Medusa, let us protect you. You were wronged but people will treat you like a monster."

Medusa looked at her, a tear slipping from the blindfold,

"Why would people—"

"Because you are different. Because you look like a monster."

Sigmund replied, cold.

"Let us help you as much as we can—"

"Medusa!"

A voice boomed behind the temple,

"COME OUT, YOU MONSTER!"

"BURN THAT MONSTER!"

Sigmund sighed,

"Sorry,"

WHACK!

Medusa fainted.

"Lira,"

He nodded to Lira. The mercury cocoon curled around Medusa again.

"Theo, we need your help."

"Don't worry,"

Theobald grinned as a translucent interface hovered in front of his eyes, glowing softly in the half-light.

"I'm currently stronger than all of you combined."

-------[ ⟪ PRIMORDIAL SYSTEM ⟫]--------

─────────────── ◆ ───────────────

[Name]: Theobald Umbra

[Race]: Human

[Class]: Novice Culinarian

[Health]: 100%

[Mana]: 600 / 600

[Strength]: 33

[Agility]: 27

[Endurance]: 30

[Intelligence]: 22

─────────────── ◆ ───────────────

[System Modules Unlocked]

– ▣ [TITLES]

– ▣ [SKILL TREE]

– ▣ [INBOX]

– ▣ [QUEST]

─────────────── ◆ ───────────────

Duration Remaining: 2 Years

⚠ Note: This system is not recognized by Imperial Standard Protocols. Classification: EXOGENOUS

-------[ ⟪⨉⟫]--------

Sigmund raised an eyebrow, wiping the blood from his cheek.

"You fell off a waterfall yesterday."

"And ate a kraken today."

Theo flexed, the orange vulture Rook perched proudly on his shoulder like a war banner.

Lira didn't laugh. Her gaze was fixed on the temple entrance, where the sounds of anger and pitchforks were fast approaching.

Outside—

The mob's voices grew clearer:

"Don't let her escape!"

"The snake witch is cursed!"

"Where are the priests?!"

"That thing will devour our crops with her eyes!"

Sigmund's voice was low and steady.

"Theo. You're the strongest here. Buy us ten minutes."

Theo smirked, tapping his knuckles against his chest.

"With pleasure."

Then he paused.

"Wait. Alone?"

Nyx rolled his eyes.

"Prr—He has a whole leopard and a walking mercury tank. You'll be fine."

Lira reached out and touched Theo's arm gently.

"The townspeople don't know the truth. Don't hurt them."

He gave her a mock salute.

"No killing. Only terrifying."

Rook spread his wings with a dramatic flourish.

"Krr—Time for the grand performance."

BOOM!

Theo kicked open the crumbling temple doors.

A beam of morning light cut across the sanctuary as dust and steam poured from the shattered entrance.

He stepped forward, arms crossed.

Crimson hair catching the sun.

The scent of cooked kraken still clinging to him like musk.

"Hey, village idiots,"

He grinned, fangs glinting.

"The monster you're after is sleeping. And I'm the one guarding her nap time."

Silence.

Until one brave farmer raised his pitchfork.

"D-Demon! You're with her! You'll all be cursed!"

Theo's grin widened.

"Exactly."

CRACK!

The earth trembled. The villagers stepped back in fear.

Behind Theo, the air shimmered — and the illusion of a blazing kraken skull emerged in smoke, half-eaten, its eye still twitching.

Theo cracked his neck.

"Now… who wants to be next on the menu?"

The mob didn't wait for a second invitation.

They ran.

All of them.

In the temple's shadow, Sigmund turned to Nyx.

"He's getting dramatic."

"Prr—He's earned it."