Chapter 18 – Meal of Waiting

Night had wrapped the ocean in a dark veil.

The ship cut smoothly through the waves, cradled by favorable winds.

Onboard, all was calm. Some passengers slept, others whispered in low voices or enjoyed a final meal beneath the swaying lanterns.

Off to the side, seated alone near the railing, Zeldris stared at the invisible horizon.

Arms crossed, his eyes lost in the dark—his posture betrayed a quiet unrest.

Meliodas approached, two trays in hand.

"Here," he said, sitting beside him. "This should give you some energy."

Zeldris accepted the plate but didn't touch the food.

Meliodas, on the other hand, dug into his meal with clear enthusiasm, savoring each bite.

Zeldris poked at his own plate with a fork, not eating.

"Hey… do you know when we'll arrive?"

Meliodas swallowed a mouthful and replied between chews:

"According to the captain, we should reach the island by tomorrow afternoon. If the wind stays good, maybe even by dawn."

Zeldris set his plate down.

"I'm not that hungry."

Meliodas glanced at him, surprised.

"You? The Zeldris who could devour an entire roasted goat?"

"My stomach's in knots," he admitted, eyes still fixed on the sea.

"I keep thinking about what we might find there. If he's really on that island… if he's alive… I don't even know how I should act. And him—would he even recognize us?"

A heavy silence passed between them, thick with unspoken worries.

Meliodas picked up Zeldris's plate again and handed it back to him.

"No point overthinking it. We'll improvise. Like always. If he's there… we'll figure it out."

He offered a simple, sincere smile—the kind he reserved for those he truly wanted to comfort.

Zeldris sighed, gave a faint smile in return, and took the plate back.

"You're right…"

He stabbed a piece of food with his fork, brought it to his mouth, chewed once—

—and froze.

His face went pale instantly.

"…What is this monstrosity?!"

He clutched his hands over his mouth, eyes wide as if he were about to vomit right there on the deck.

"You okay?!" Meliodas asked, mock concern in his voice.

Then he puffed out his chest with pride.

"I made it myself!"

Zeldris opened his mouth to say something—but instead, collapsed flat on the deck, unconscious.

"Zel? Hey—Zeldris?!"

Meliodas leaned over, this time genuinely a little worried.

"…Guess you didn't like my cooking, huh?"

He scratched his cheek, looking thoughtful as his brother lay dramatically limp across the planks.

The quiet of night resumed.

But in the air lingered a new certainty:

Tomorrow would be a decisive day.