Beneath the rolling waves, a swarm of blue, fish-scaled mutants howled along with the current. From afar, they looked like a blue mudslide surging beneath the sea.
They shrieked to intimidate any aberrations that tried to approach, used harpoons to carve a path forward, traveled west along the coastline, then turned south.
Guided by the will of their ancestors, they had drifted for an entire week. They had only stopped to rest a few times along the way. Whenever they were hungry, they caught fish, shellfish, or seaweed to fill their bellies. Everywhere they passed was left as murky and devastated as land after a locust swarm.
Yet even though they were starving, their morale had not diminished in the slightest. The thirst for battle burning in their pupils only grew fiercer.
Their temporary hunger was merely to make room for the feast about to begin. With the blessings of their ancestors, they would soon eat their fill and revel in the cries and wails of their prey.
Just as they were about to reach their destination, the mutant at the front suddenly straightened up, kicking against the current to halt its forward momentum.
"Crack—!"
The blue-skinned mutants behind him scattered. More than a thousand of them stood upon the jagged seabed rocks, like a forest of shadowy seaweed.
"Ships!"
It opened its mouth and let out a shrill scream, staring ahead before glancing uncertainly toward the coastline to the right.
The human village foretold by the priest lay northwest of them. Yet several kilometers directly west, two cargo ships were sailing straight toward them.
It puffed out its chest and inhaled a mouthful of icy seawater. Dense strings of bubbles rolled from its cheeks.
As though it had caught a scent, a bloodthirsty gleam gradually appeared in its eyes.