Between sea and sky, nothing remained but a heavy iron-gray expanse.
Dark clouds, like thick clumps of cotton soaked through with ink, pressed low over the sea. Their edges were shredded by the frenzied wind. Every trace of daylight had been devoured; though it was clearly daytime, an oppressive darkness like twilight permeated the air.
The wind howled past with the brute force of a Force 8 gale, whipping up salty spray and shrieking like wailing ghosts. Turbid waves churned and surged with the wind, forming two-meter walls of water. Accompanied by thunderous rumbles, they rolled in from afar before crashing down viciously, shattering into countless clumps of deathly white foam that were immediately swallowed by even darker currents.
At the heart of this raging sea, a small fishing boat stubbornly pushed onward. It was far too small; atop the rising crests, it looked like a black shell tossed into the air, lifted in an instant to a terrifying height, its hull nearly leaving the water. The next moment, it plunged violently into a deep trough and was instantly swallowed halfway by the murky black sea.
In weather like this, every other vessel was fleeing in panic. Only it, like an arrow shot toward the abyss, sailed unwaveringly deeper into the ocean.
A figure sat quietly atop the boat's canopy, forming a strange contrast with the violently pitching fishing vessel beneath him.
He wore a classically tailored black robe and a Pointed Soft Hat of the same color. A polished crystal Monocle rested over his right eye. The gale tugged at the hem of his robe with a loud flapping sound, yet he remained as steady as a rock, gazing at the distant horizon—
There, the storm clouds and furious sea had merged into a single chaotic mass, indistinguishable from