It was a gloomy, overcast day.
The guards carried Worm Lamps as they patrolled back and forth along the coast.
Over the years, the Tribe had managed the coastline in an orderly fashion.
The rest of the coastline had been sealed off, and Fishermen were only allowed to fish in designated areas.
The elderly, women, and children who could not fight had moved from their homes along the shore back to the island's interior.
Richie was among them.
In recent years—
The old man, who had devoted nearly his entire life to the Tribe, had continued living by the shore even after stepping down as chieftain, helping with the work along the coast.
However,
as he grew older, his ailments worsened until they became extremely severe.
Even with Huxter's treatment, Richie eventually lost the ability to walk.
At the urging of his two children, who were worried about his health, and so that he would not become a burden to the Tribe,
Richie chose to return to his cave to recuperate.
Boer took on his father's responsibilities, moving into the wooden house by the shore and taking turns patrolling the coastline with the guards.
Ned likewise stood watch along the coast with another group of capable fighters who had volunteered.
To better "deploy his forces,"
Ned had specially selected several powerful Yamal Spiders from the Spider Ranch and brought them to a grove near the shore to raise them.
They were fed all kinds of plump fish.
Among the Yamal Spiders, several had grown particularly fearsome. Their sturdy legs were covered in spikes, making them a chilling sight.
Of course, Ned had not chosen them for their size.
It was simply that the larger the spider, the more corrosive its acid tended to be, and the more acid it could spit than an ordinary Yamal Spider.
The clouds overhead grew thicker and darker.
The sky hung low, pressing down on people until they could hardly breathe.
Beneath the gloomy, cloud-filled sky in the distance, ripples had already appeared on the sea.
A young man who had just woken up in a wooden watchtower glanced out at the water, his expression turning tense at once.
"Damn!"
the young man muttered.
"The dried fish are going to get rained on."
Amid the howling gale,
he hurried down the swaying tower.
A younger boy in the watchtower called after him,
"Hey, if Chief Boer patrols the coastal defenses and sees that there aren't two of us up here, we'll get punished."
"You're so stubborn. I'd rather get chewed out than have all my fish get soaked and stink."
The young man, now down on the beach, replied disdainfully.
"We're supposed to be guarding our home, but we work our tails off holding this coastline every year, and all we get is a little more food and a few more Return Fruits than everyone else."
"I could grow more Tree Cassava than that in the same amount of time."
He couldn't help sighing.
"I thought working the fields was too tiring, and I figured I'd earn a good reputation in the Tribe by coming out here."
"If I'd known, I would've gone back. Sitting up in that wooden tower every day is so boring. All I do is stare at the sea."
The young man started relieving himself toward the sea, muttering to himself as he did.
Hearing his companion's brazen words, the boy could only feel helpless.
All he could do now was hope that Boer and the other guards wouldn't happen to patrol past. Otherwise, he would get dragged into the punishment too.
The boy raised his head and, as usual, looked up at the gloomy sky.
Looks like a huge storm's coming.
In the distance, raindrops too faint to make out seemed to be falling onto the sea, sending out ring after ring of ripples.
Amid the ripples, dense bubbles seemed to be rising without pause.
The boy froze, then furrowed his brow. He raised a hand to shade his forehead and squinted, trying to make out what he was seeing.
As if drawn in by something, he stared fixedly at the strange ripples appearing both near the shore and along the rest of the coastline.
At last,
when he saw what was there,
the boy finally realized what was happening—and could hardly believe it.
Those ripples had nothing to do with rain.
His face filled with sheer terror.
"Run! Run!"
The boy, his scalp prickling, called out in a trembling voice.
The horrifying sight left his mind completely blank.
So much so that
he forgot, in that moment, that the Wailing Whistle hung right against his chest.
"Trying to scare me? You're still too green."
Hearing his companion shouting in the distance, the young man
simply paid him no mind and continued gathering the dried fish from the racks.
But when he noticed the soft sand behind him crunching underfoot, he froze.
Then,
the young man turned around without thinking.
And then he stood rooted to the spot.
The disdain on his face slowly gave way to blank shock.
Then to terror.
He trembled in place, and the dried fish slipped from his hands.
In the final moment of his life,
he saw a scene of unimaginable horror.
Several enormous, glistening, razor-sharp crab claws reflected a cold gleam in his eyes.
Amid the crash of wave after wave,
the sound of blood splattering was almost inaudible.
"Whoo!"
The Wailing Whistle, which had not been blown for more than a decade, sounded across the Tribe.
Its piercing shrieks alerted everyone along the coast.
People in the wooden houses by the shore immediately stopped what they were doing.
"Did I hear that right?"
"Someone blew the Wailing Whistle!"
"Where?"
"I think it came from the eastern coast!"
"I'll go inform the chieftain!"
"Then we'll head over first!"
The people hurriedly scattered through the Tribe.
Some who didn't want to wait gathered in groups of three or five, grabbed their Bows and Arrows, and rushed toward the source of the whistle.
As they drew closer,
a hair-raising stench drifted out of the grove.
The distinctive fishy smell of the sea made them deeply uneasy.
When they finally passed through the trees,
the scene before them left them stunned.
On the beach not far away,
a man lay there with his abdomen ripped open, red and white spilling across the ground. He was sprawled in a scene of unimaginable carnage.
Not far from the fallen human stood a monster nearly twice the height of an adult.
The Giant Crab's mandibles were still moving in a grotesque chewing motion, making sounds like bones being crunched as blood slowly trickled from them.
Water and blood mingled on the ground.
The stench of blood and the reek of the sea blended into a nauseating odor.
At that moment,
the people finally saw the true, savage form of the monster that had terrified them for more than a decade.
Though the Giant Crab before them looked nowhere near as enormous as people had described the ones from a decade ago,
it was still an existence no human could hope to match.
Without the gods' protection, simply mustering the courage to face such a monster was already an extraordinary feat for these fragile people.
The enormous crab had clearly noticed them. It charged across the beach toward them.
"Shoot!"
"Shoot!"
The sight made everyone's scalps tingle.
At last, someone reacted, trembling as they fired the Crossbow in their hands.
But
the people who had rushed over first did not have the newly made weapons designed specifically to defend against Sea Monsters.
Ordinary arrows were useless against the enormous crab. They barely embedded themselves in its shell.
Worse, holding their Bows and Arrows left the people less nimble.
The crab's claws easily pierced the stomachs of those it caught,
hoisting them high like spears.
Before long,
another person had died to the Sea Monster's razor-sharp claws.
The stench of blood spread across the beach.
"No good! We can't stop this monster!"
"Fall back!"
The people panicked, fear driving them to run without thinking.
But just then,
the rumbling of a huge object rolling over the ground drew steadily closer from behind them.
It was the sound of the Ballista's wheels rolling.
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