Chapter 5: Waves of Resolve

Night had passed, and for most, it was as quick as a blink. However, to Abel, it felt like a lifetime. Throughout the night, his mind had been flooded with thoughts, at times becoming overwhelmed with emotions.

He finally had time to process his interaction with the Apostle and the incredible sight he had witnessed. If what Sena had told him was true, then this massive vessel was taking them toward an organization that would teach them to do supernatural things. The possibility ignited something within Abel. If he could gain these powers, he could search for clues about the attack on his village—and maybe even seek revenge.

Overnight, a fire had been lit within Abel, forcing him to focus on survival and overcoming the challenges ahead. He vowed to achieve his goal of finding his parents and bringing them justice.

The small room he occupied contained only a bed, with a circular window opposite the door. The rising sun filtered through the window, casting a soft glow that slowly roused Abel from sleep. Though he had only managed a few hours of rest, the gentle swaying of the ship had made it easier to drift off.

He sat up in bed, remaining still as he listened to the activity outside. Many people were walking down the hall toward the deck, their voices growing louder as they passed his room. The walls were thin, and he had heard conversations throughout the night—some of which were useful. He learned, for instance, that the Stone Tower was the nineteenth tower in the kingdom. However, much of the chatter was filled with gossip and condescending remarks, like the ones echoing outside his door now.

“Our estate is so vast that it takes an entire day just to ride in a caravan from one end to the other. Do you even have a proper garden or just a vegetable patch?” a male voice sneered.

“Our bloodline is one of the oldest in the land. Some people can only dream of such heritage,” another voice added, dripping with superiority.

“That’s a lovely dress—though it’s last year’s fashion, isn’t it? I suppose not everyone can keep up with the latest trends,” a feminine voice chimed in.

The voices came and went, giving Abel a clear sense of the people he was now surrounded by. Though his father had been the mayor of a town, Abel knew that title meant little in the grand scheme of things. The youths on this ship came from noble families with vast estates and ancient bloodlines—far removed from the simple, hardworking community where Abel had grown up.

His thoughts drifted to the knife at his waist. Abel pulled it out, his fingers gripping the black and silver handle. As he unsheathed the blade, a rush of adrenaline surged through him, nearly causing him to drop it. The dagger was more than it seemed—holding it made him feel lighter, more agile as if his entire body had been tuned to a higher frequency.

“What is happening?” Abel muttered, bringing the knife closer to his face, his eyes wide with bewilderment. His body felt energized, alive in a way it never had before. “How did they get this?” he wondered, thinking of his parents. With their modest means, it seemed impossible that they could have acquired such a strange item. The mystery of their origins deepened, filling Abel with both curiosity and a sense of urgency.

Testing the effects, Abel stood on his toes and moved back and forth, marveling at his newfound speed. “Incredible…” he whispered, but soon after, his body began to ache, the exhilaration replaced by a creeping discomfort. He sheathed the dagger, realizing that its boon came with a limit—fifteen seconds of enhanced ability before his body could no longer sustain it. Thus was very abnormal and it must've had something to do with the "magic" the Apostle spoke of.

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“I should go outside, maybe socialize a bit, and get some more information,” Abel thought, stretching before moving toward the door.

Reaching the deck, he saw different groups of people standing in circles, already forming their own cliques. Each youth wore expensive accessories, dazzling dresses, and tunics made from luxurious materials. Abel approached the first group he saw, but as he drew near, their conversation halted, and they turned to stare at him.

A short blonde girl looked him over, her gaze cold. “Do we know you?” she asked, her voice tinged with irritation.

Taken aback by the hostility, Abel forced a smile. “Hi, I’m Abel Solano. A pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

The group exchanged glances, some with confusion, others with thinly veiled disdain. “Solano? Never heard of your house,” a young man said dismissively. “Please don’t interrupt us. If you’re looking for cleaning tools, there might be some near the medical room.”

Abel’s heart sank as he turned away, their laughter following him as he walked toward a space on the deck. He stared out at the sea, its vastness both beautiful and ominous. The rolling waves held mysteries he couldn’t yet fathom, but he knew he had to keep moving forward, no matter how isolated he felt.

As he gazed at the horizon, his thoughts were interrupted by an argument on the other side of the deck. A young man with an orange bob cut and a green waist bag was squaring off with a girl in a yellow and black tunic. Abel watched as their heated exchange escalated, the boy’s pride giving way to anger as he pulled out a bottle from his waist bag.

The bottle was made of glass, sealed with a wooden cork. Inside, a strange blue gaseous entity moved about in tranquility, occasionally turning translucent and back again. The boy placed his other hand on the cork, his eyes narrowing in defiance. “Your words are as empty as your family’s so-called legacy, Isabella—let me, Edmund, show you the strength of a true heir!”

He pulled the cork, and the gaseous entity began to shake uncontrollably. It rushed out of the bottle, flying around the boy before quickly taking the shape of a strange bat-like creature with eight wings, the tail of a beaver, and eight eyes. It flapped its wings furiously, making its last lap around the boy before launching itself at Isabella.

People around Abel began to murmur.

“A magical artifact? No way!” a girl said, her voice tinged with awe.

“He’s going too far!” another exclaimed.

Before Isabella could even react, a hooded figure moved faster than the gaseous entity and intercepted it in mid-air. The figure threw out a punch that combusted the air in front of it, causing an explosion that dissipated the gaseous entity, sending the remaining wisps of blue gas back into the bottle.

Everything happened so fast that Abel barely had time to process it. The control of fire and the speed at which the figure moved made Abel realize that this was the same person he had spoken with the night before.

Flint stood there, his gaze fixed on the boy, his expression dark. He shook his head before issuing a stern decree. “You are to return to your room and not come out until tomorrow. If you do, I’ll throw you off this ship myself. Fighting on board is prohibited, and I will not hesitate to turn you into a lesson.”

His tone was harsh, laced with deadly intent, as he gave the boy one last chance.

The boy, Edmund, glared at Flint but knew better than to argue. He turned and stormed off toward the stairs, the bottle clutched tightly in his hand.

Abel watched Edmund leave, his eyes lingering on the bottle. “So these are magical artifacts…” he thought, his mind racing with possibilities. It seemed that the dagger he possessed was also a magical artifact, based on the boon it granted him. Seeing Edmund’s bottle helped him understand that magical artifacts came in all shapes and sizes, each with its unique abilities.

As Abel pondered this, someone approached him from the side.

“These nobles sure are careless, huh?” the newcomer said, their tone light but tinged with sarcasm.