Invaders of the Ocean

A day of gloomy, overcast skies.

Guards carrying worm lanterns paced back and forth along the coastline, patrolling.

Over the years, the tribe had managed the coast with orderly precision.

Other stretches of shoreline had been sealed off; fishermen could only cast their nets within designated zones.

The elderly, women, and children—those without combat ability—had moved back from the coastal settlements to the island's interior.

Richie was among this procession.

In recent years, this old man, who had devoted nearly his entire life to the tribe, even after stepping down as chieftain, had still chosen to live near the coast, helping with the work along the shore.

However, as he continued to age, the ailments plaguing his body worsened to a severe degree.

Even with Shokst's treatment, Richie ultimately lost the ability to walk.

Persuaded by two children worried about his health, and also to avoid becoming a burden to his tribesmen, Richie chose to return to his cave to recuperate.

Boer took up his father's heavy responsibilities, living in the old wooden cabin on the coast, taking turns with the guards to patrol the shoreline.

Ned, along with another group of eager, capable fighters from the tribe, also stood watch along the coast.

To better "deploy his forces,"

Ned deliberately selected several powerful Yamal Spiders from the [Spider Ranch] and brought them to a patch of woods near the coast to feed.

Nourished on plump, fatty fish, some of these Yamal Spiders grew into imposing specimens, their sturdy legs bristling with barbs that sent a chill down the spine.

Of course, Ned wasn't after their size for show.

It was simply that the larger the spider, the more corrosive its acid, and the greater the volume of venom it could spit compared to ordinary Yamal Spiders.

The gray clouds on the horizon grew thicker.

The sky hung low, oppressive, making it hard to breathe.

Beneath that dense, gloomy sky, ripples had already begun to spread across the sea surface.

A young man who had just woken up in a wooden watchtower glanced at the sea, and his expression immediately tensed.

"Damn it!"

the young man muttered.

"The salted fish I laid out are going to get soaked."

Amid the howling wind, he scrambled down the swaying tower.

Another boy, younger, still in the watchtower, called out hurriedly:

"Hey, if Chieftain Boer comes to inspect the coastal defenses and sees the two of us not both up here, we'll be punished."

"You're so rigid. I'd rather take a few extra scoldings than let all my salted fish get wet and rot."

The young man who had already reached the sand below said dismissively.

"They say we're guarding our home, but we work hard standing watch on this coast year after year, and all we get is a little extra grain and Return Fruit compared to the others."

"With this time, I could plant Tree Cassava and earn more than that."

Saying this, he couldn't help but sigh.

"Honestly, I originally came here because farming was too tiring, and I figured I could earn a good reputation in the tribe."

"If I'd known it would be like this, I'd rather have gone back. Every day on this wooden tower is boring enough—all I do is look at the sea, and then look at the sea again."

The young man began to relieve himself facing the ocean, muttering to himself as he did.

The boy, hearing these rather reckless words, could only feel helpless.

For now, he could only hope that Boer, the young chieftain, and the other guards wouldn't happen to pass by on patrol, or else he'd be dragged into the punishment too.

The boy lifted his head, as usual, and looked at the gloomy sky.

"It looks like a huge storm is coming,"

the boy thought to himself.

In the distance, raindrops—barely visible—seemed to have begun falling, dotting the sea surface and spreading ring after ring of ripples.

Within those ripples, dense bubbles seemed to be rising continuously.

The boy was startled at first, furrowing his brow, then shaded his forehead with his hand, squinting as he observed.

It was as if something had caught his attention; his gaze locked tightly onto the abnormal ripples appearing on the nearshore surface and along the other coastlines.

Finally.

After seeing something.

The boy finally confirmed something in disbelief.

Those ripples were never caused by the rain.

A look of extreme terror spread across his face.

"Run, run now!!"

His scalp tingling, the boy trembled as he shouted in fear.

The horrifying scene left his mind blank.

So much so.

That he momentarily forgot the Wailing Whistle hanging from his neck.

"Scare me? You're still green."

The young man heard his companion shouting in the distance.

He just casually kept gathering the dried fish from the racks.

But when he sensed behind him the sound of soft sand being trampled and churned, he froze.

Then.

The young man instinctively turned to look.

And there he stood.

The disdain on his face gradually turned to shock.

Finally, to terror.

His whole body trembled, and the dried fish in his hand fell.

In the final moment of his life.

He witnessed that unspeakably horrific sight.

Several huge, wet, razor-sharp crab claws reflected a cold gleam in his eyes.

Amidst the roaring of wave after wave.

The sound of blood splattering became utterly insignificant.

"Whew!!"

The Wailing Whistle, untouched for over a decade, rang out through the tribe at that moment.

A series of sharp blasts startled everyone along the coast.

People in the wooden huts by the shore immediately dropped everything they were doing.

"Did I hear that right?"

"Someone blew the Wailing Whistle!"

"Where!?"

"Sounds like it came from the eastern coast!"

"I'll go report to the chieftain!"

"Then we'll head over first!"

People hurriedly rushed through the tribe.

Some who couldn't bear to wait banded together in small groups, grabbed their bows, and charged toward the source of the whistle.

As they drew closer.

That bone-chilling stench drifted from the forest.

That unique, fishy sea smell filled them with deep unease.

When they finally broke through the trees.

The sight before them left them stunned.

On the beach not far away.

A man lay disemboweled, red and white spilling across the ground, his body twisted in an unimaginably gruesome death.

A monster, nearly as tall as two grown men, stood not far from the fallen human.

The giant crab's mouthparts, a pair of massive mandibles, writhed grotesquely, making sounds like bones being crushed, as blood dripped down bit by bit.

Wet water stains mingled with the blood.

The stench of blood and the fishy sea smell combined into a nauseating odor.

In that moment.

People finally caught a true glimpse of the ferocious visage of the monster that had terrorized them for over a decade.

Though this giant crab before them was far smaller than the ones described by people over a decade ago...

It was still a being beyond human match.

Without the protection of the gods, even summoning the courage to face this monster head-on was already an act of immense bravery for fragile mortals.

The enormous crab clearly noticed them and charged across the sand toward them.

"Loose arrows!"

"Loose arrows!"

The sight made everyone's scalps crawl.

Finally, someone snapped out of it and, trembling, fired back with their crossbow.

But.

These people who had rushed over first didn't have the newly crafted weapons specifically designed to fend off sea monsters.

Ordinary arrows were all but useless against the giant crab, merely embedding themselves in its shell.

Instead, burdened by their bows, the people lost their agility.

The crab's pincer effortlessly pierced the abdomen of anyone it caught.

Hoisting them high into the air like a spear.

Before long.

More people fell to the sea monster's razor-sharp claws.

The stench of blood spread across the beach.

"No use, we can't stop this thing."

"Fall back!"

Panic set in. Fear drove them to instinctively flee.

But just then.

A heavy rumbling sound, like a massive weight grinding across the ground, pressed closer from behind them.

It was the sound of a ballista's wheels rolling forward.