CHAPTER 43: A LEVIATHAN’S DREAM- 3

The ship continued sailing. Rhys stood at the helm, watching the ship tear through the waves. The empty feeling in his head did not go away.

He was sure of one thing: he had forgotten something.

’What could it be?’

He could feel a deep sadness coming from the water itself. It was a strange feeling, a low, constant melancholy that seemed to rise from the depths.

His memories had no explanation for it. The sea was just the sea. But his instincts, buried deep under the fog, felt the sorrow in the waves.

The other feeling was stronger. It was a pull. A constant, nagging desire that was not his own. It came from the back of the ship, from the huge iron cage covered in a black cloth.

It felt like a deep, desperate hunger. It was a feeling of need, and it was directed at him.

He had a sense of déjà vu from this feeling. Another strange fact was that whenever he tried to pinpoint where he had experienced this same feeling, his mind told him to ignore it.

The cargo was not his business. He was just the guide. But the feeling was so strong it was hard to ignore, even with the constant nagging in his mind.

The captain came and stood next to him. He was a big, friendly man with a loud laugh. He was always kind to Rhys.

But Rhys was sure there was something strange about the captain today. Everything about him screamed fake. Artificial. And above all, an illusion.

"How are the currents, boy?" the captain asked, his voice a happy boom. "The trench is not far now. Are you ready for the real work?"

"The currents are strange today, Captain," Rhys said. "They feel... sad."

The captain laughed. "Sad currents? You guides have a strange way of seeing the world." He patted Rhys on the back.

"Don’t you worry. Just get us through the trench safely. There’s a big reward waiting for you when we get to the other side."

Rhys nodded, but he felt a sense of unease. The captain was friendly, but his eyes were sharp and watchful. He did not look like a simple sailor.

He stared at the captain’s retreating back, then at the sailors as they moved about the ship. They were always on edge. Even a small disturbance in the waves made them tense.

’They look like warriors...’

He used his job as a guide as an excuse to walk around the ship. He needed to check the ropes and the sails, he said. But his real goal was to get closer to the iron cage.

The pull from it was getting stronger. It was a desperate, silent scream for help. He walked to the back of the ship.

The heavily armed soldiers stood guard around the cage. They looked at him with cold, hard eyes.

"The guide has no business here," one of the soldiers said, his voice flat.

"I am just checking the rear mast," Rhys said, trying to sound casual. "The wind is changing. It will put a lot of stress on it."

The soldier grunted but let him pass. Rhys walked past the cage. As he got closer, the feeling of need intensified. It was a raw, desperate hunger for something only he possessed.

He felt a strange connection to whatever was inside. It wanted something from him. He had no idea what it was.

He pretended to inspect the ropes on the mast. From his position, he could hear the soldiers talking in low voices.

Despite them speaking in quiet murmurs, his senses were acute enough for him to accurately hear what they were saying.

"The mother should be close now," one of the soldiers said. "The signal from the egg is getting stronger."

"Good," another one replied. "Lord Randel will be pleased. A Tyrant-grade core, even from a weakened beast, will be a great treasure for the Royal Family."

"She is only at the Elite level now," the first soldier said.

"Laying the egg has drained most of her power. Still, she is strong. Luckily, we have her egg in custody; she will never dare to use her full power."

Rhys felt his blood run cold. An egg. A mother. A Tyrant-grade core.

The pieces of the puzzle clicked into place in his mind. The cage contained a monster’s egg. They were using it as bait to lure the weakened mother.

Their true mission was to kill her and harvest her core. The entire ship, the friendly crew—it was all a lie.

He felt a surge of anger. He did not know why. His new memories told him that this was just business.

Monsters were killed for their cores all the time. But he felt a connection to the creature in the cage, and to the mother who was swimming into a deadly trap.

The pull from the cage became a desperate, painful cry in his mind. It was not just a feeling of need anymore.

It was a feeling of pain. The egg was weak. It was dying.

He had to do something. He did not know why, but he felt a powerful urge to help. He had to see what was inside the cage.

He waited until night. The ship was deep in the trench now. The water was dark and dangerous.

The soldiers were all on high alert, watching the sea for any sign of the mother Leviathan. This was his only chance.

He used his knowledge as a guide to his advantage. He told the captain that a dangerous cross-current was ahead.

He said he needed to be at the back of the ship to feel the vibrations properly. The captain, focused on the hunt, agreed without question. Rhys walked to the back of the ship.

The guards were still there, but they were looking out at the dark water, not at him. He moved into the shadows near the cage.

The feeling of desperate need was overwhelming now. It was calling to him. He knew he had to open it. It was an illogical, suicidal thought, but the instinct was stronger than any logic.

He used a small knife he kept in his belt. He worked quickly and silently, his hands moving with a skill his new memories could not explain.

He picked the heavy iron lock on the cage door. It clicked open with a soft sound. He pulled back the thick, black cloth.

The cage was filled with soft, glowing seaweed. In the centre of the seaweed was the egg. It was huge, about the size of his head.

Its shell was a beautiful, deep blue colour, with swirling patterns of silver that glowed with a soft light. But the egg was damaged.

There were thin, dark cracks running all over its beautiful shell. The silver light was weak and flickering. It was dying.

He felt a deep, unexplainable sadness. He reached out his hand, his fingers trembling slightly.

The moment his fingertips touched the cool, smooth shell of the egg, it happened. He felt a powerful jolt.

A surge of his own life energy, his lifespan, flowed out of his hand and into the egg. It was an automatic, instinctual reaction.

The egg was hungry, and he was the food. The cracks on the shell began to glow with a golden light.

The weak, flickering silver patterns became bright and strong. The egg was healing.

And as his life energy flowed into the egg, the fog in his mind shattered. His real memories came flooding back in a painful, overwhelming rush.

The Labyrinth. The System. The Ash Plains. The dead Titan. The crystal ants.

Yuki.

He remembered everything.

[Host! You are finally back...]

’System, the dying dream of the Leviathan isn’t about its midnight snack. It’s about its child...’

He now knew how to escape this dream.

’I have to satisfy its dying wish.’