Yoren was left in the dark about the secrets hidden beneath the deep sea.
Though he hadn't uncovered the full extent of the disaster, he had learned just enough from Skadi, from the name of a deep-sea servant known only as "Dark Green," and from the whispers of a mysterious island lost beyond the ocean's end.
The ship pushed forward, steadily leaving the troubled waters behind as it continued its course toward Victoria.
It was the fourth day since they'd departed from Columbia. According to the route, three more days remained before they would arrive in the town of Sanner. A seven-day journey might seem slow, but if one looked at a map and traced the distance between Columbia and Victoria, they'd realize how fast it truly was. Without Originium-powered engines, this rickety vessel might have drifted across the sea for months.
Yoren limped to the unconscious Ifrit's side and gently touched her forehead.
Not hot. Not cold. Just... normal. Like she was merely sleeping.
Seeing her in this state, Yoren could only assume it was the aftermath of unleashing the power of the Balrog—just like back at Base 4. He remembered that day vividly: how the whole place was scorched to ashes and how he'd ended up half-charred. Ifrit, though outwardly unscathed, had fallen unconscious. Only later did he learn she had remained in a coma for several days.
A flame that could reduce the world to ashes in an instant... and then left her defenseless. It was a terrifying power, but a fragile one. As if the stronger she grew, the more vulnerable she became.
Yoren didn't know if this would happen every time she used that power. But as it stood, it wasn't something she could control on her own. A power that could easily hurt her friends.
Even in sleep, her brows were furrowed in frustration. This child was fighting her own battles.
As Yoren stood, his legs gave out slightly under him. A wave of dizziness hit him, the toll of both fatigue and injury making his body sway.
A pair of arms caught him just in time.
"Yoren, are you okay?"
He turned. It was Pudding.
"I'm fine. Not dead yet. Just tired."
"Then let me help you rest. I talked with the captain. The ship's in good shape. You're seriously injured. Leave the rest to us."
Yoren nodded. There was no strength left to argue.
"Alright. I'll leave it to you."
As Pudding supported him toward the lounge, he suddenly spoke up.
"Yoren, I finally understand what you meant that day."
"Huh?"
"When you said you were indescribably awesome. Back then, I thought you were just bragging. But now I know you really are."
Yoren gave a weak smile.
"There's nothing to brag about. If I was really that great, I wouldn't be like this now."
"You're too humble. I may not be an Infected, but I've trained too. And just thinking about your strength... I can't wrap my head around how you punched that massive creature away. How did you even do it?"
"Don't ask. Just thank Originium Arts."
"Oh."
The next morning.
Yoren opened his eyes in the upper bunk of the lounge. Or rather, the pain woke him up.
Ifrit was still asleep on the lower bunk. He climbed down, gently patting her cheek. No response.
In the cramped cabin bathroom, Yoren peeled off the gauze layer by layer. The wounds on his shoulders were still ugly and deep, but at least they hadn't worsened.
That was a relief.
Medical supplies on the ship were scarce. No sutures. Just some disinfectant, mystery ointments, and bandages. The sea's humidity made things worse. Normally, such injuries would get infected, cause fever, and potentially kill.
Yoren flexed in front of the mirror. The pain made him grimace, but at least his arms moved.
He owed that to the twin powers within him—specifically, the white one. Before, he hadn't thought much of it. But now, he understood.
Small cuts? The white power healed them quickly. Serious wounds like this? It didn't fix them outright, but it stopped the bleeding, fended off infection, and let him stay lucid.
According to Hemer, the healing capacity of the white power would grow over time. It wasn't a substitute for proper treatment, but in situations like this, it was a lifeline.
He chuckled to himself, remembering when his palm was inexplicably severed back at Base 4. He hadn't even noticed until lunchtime the next day.
Lying back on the bed, he stared at the ceiling.
Maybe what he really needed... was a doctor. Not a hospital doctor. A companion. Someone who could stay by his side.
Three days later.
Standing on the deck, the summer breeze brushing against his face, Yoren basked in the warmth of the sun.
Except for the deep wound in his shoulder, everything else had healed. His thigh no longer ached, and he no longer needed to consider a cane.
Every day, Yoren had carried Ifrit to the deck at noon, letting her lie under the sun. He knew she hated the cold and loved warmth. Maybe... just maybe, it would help wake her.
The Pulse brothers stepped out of the cabin. Pulu waved.
"Yoren, you're looking good today!"
"Feeling better."
Pudding eyed him up and down.
"Yoren, your badass level just rose again in my heart. I thought you'd be stretcher-bound, but look at you. Walking on your own!"
"Heh. Maybe my skull is thick."
Just then, a sudden exclamation came from the deck.
"BBQ!"
Ifrit shot up from her spot, eyes wide. She glanced around in confusion.
"Huh? Where am I?"
Yoren leaned on the railing, a soft smile on his face.
"Yo. You finally woke up."
Ifrit sat on the deck, thinking hard. Then slowly, as if piecing something together, her eyes lit up with recognition.
"I think I had a dream. I dreamed..."
Yoren walked over and gently ruffled her hair.
"Little firecracker, it's time to wake up. We're almost in Victoria."
"Uh uh uh~"