The smell of the warmer southern seas tickled Cora’s nose as the sunlight glanced off the waves. The cries of seabirds mixed with the rumble of the ocean at the base of the cliff. She took a deep breath as a brief application of mana cracked the shell before her.
Sluurp!
A gourmandizing groan escaped her lips.
Unfortunately, on an [Otter], this sounded more like a squeak and almost ruined the moment.
Fortunately, she had a whole barrel of aged white grape wine which she had liberated from some [Pirates] just this week. And using it to wash down that (very rare) second tier [Oyster Lord] she just ate made her feel better about it all.
Perfection, she thought, as she sought that zen state relatively unique to her line of Classes.
It’d been three years since Dips self-declared his life mission. Three years of grinding at XP, leveling up, tiering up, preparing. [East Slanemore River Otter] (rare) had tiered up first into [General Slanemore Otter] (very rare), and then into [Slanish Ottermore] (ultra rare). Dips’ [Aquatic Guardian] (very rare) had tiered up first into [Ocean Sentinel] (ultra rare) and then into [Blue Steward of the Briny Deeps] (unique). Cora’s own [Gourmand] (rare) had tiered up into [Sea Connoisseur] (very rare) and then into [Native Ocean Gastronomist] (ultra rare). While the two weren’t necessarily envious of each other, it did represent the first time that Dips’ power significantly exceeded hers, in this instance by over eight thousand attribute points.
Cora ◐ (L210), [Slanish Ottermore] (UR) (L105), [Native Ocean Gastronomist] (UR) (L105)
Dips ◮ (L210), [Slanish Ottermore] (UR) (L105), [Blue Steward of the Briny Deeps] (U) (L105)
HP:
10,498,331/10,498,331
26,513,710/26,513,710
(59,157 / hour)
(65,095 / hour)
MP:
17,206,151/17,206,151
19,972,725/19,972,725
(43,992 / hour)
(40,623 / hour)
CON:
687
1716
STR:
1027
4558
END:
682
4337
DEX:
1027
1781
INT:
2064
1568
WIS:
2059
1615
SOU:
1171
1553
CHA:
1587
1781
Free:
0
0
Well, at least under the System. Cora still thought of herself as the better wielder of true magic. Or, at least, researcher. Actually, maybe not even that; Dips would probably still beat her in a one-on-one fight limited to true magic.
A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.
She giggled out loud a little at that, but even he wouldn’t have been able to audibly hear her, then schooled her face before responding with false annoyance.
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Neither knew the first thing about sailing. That had been shown enough in their first go-around, but they’d been around enough ports by now that they had a fair idea of which was the front end.
But, when in doubt, brute force. Cora did have [Ventus *M], and while her current class was… hedonistic, she remained a powerful sky mage.
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The two had sailed for two months without a sign of the beast. Back and forth they moved; in a grid pattern, in circles, even erratically. They both carefully tamped down on any Skills that may have acted to conceal them. They chummed up sea critters in the 60s and 70s and that they had caught casually.
They even tried singing.
Everyone involved in that agreed that it likely drove away any terrors of the deep.
Well, at least the sailing was going well. They’d even avoided all these storms that kept popping up, especially this one weird one that seemed to persist and move all the time.
Wait a minute…
Dips bounded up from below deck in a flash.
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Dips was flailing about, trying to keep steady. While even a rocking ship was fine with his absurd Skills and Attributes, he was still a tiny [Otter] and a big wave of water still pushed him around.
<…> Though it should have been impossible to convey telepathically, Dips could tell that Cora was raising an [Otter] eyebrow at him. He sighed just a little bit before yelling back,
The storm only intensified with their joshing, but their mood could not be brought low by mere rain. They were [Otters], dammit!
Another hour of pounding storm passed gleefully, before Dips’ head snapped to the side. His mental voice lowered,
> Ding!
>
> Robert (L252) [Sharktopede Patriarch of Ager] (U) (L126) [Raging Sea Sorcerer] (F) (L126)
Most would have focused on the total level count, the (fantastic) class or the (unique) race. But the two instead focused on something far more important.
For a short while at least. As the neptunian creature propelled itself forward with a hundred tentacles, it’s gaping maw soon overshadowed their galleon. Cursing fervently, Dips grabbed Cora and leapt skyward through the raging storm as their brave ship was hastily consumed in a single bite. A quick burst of localized wind magic from Cora, and Dips landed hard in a crouched stance atop the monster’s rough, pebbly skin, not far from the edge of its snout.
A raised [Otter] eyebrow once again graced Ager.
<…anal cavity?>
<…>
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An hour later, the two [Otters] were walking through a relatively dry cavity lined with mucosal membrane. The air was bad, and so the pair were abusing [Extreme Hold Breath] to avoid, well, the need to breath and (as much as possible) smell.
Despite the fierce storm raging outside and the [Sharktopede’s] ongoing hunting efforts, the ride was relatively smooth for them inside and they slipped through with little obstruction. Deeper they dove, occasionally coming across the gigantic parasite—themselves well into the third tier—because of course a gigantic sea creature would have gigantic parasites. They even fought some meter-tall crabs that were living in the [Sharktopede’s] gullet—and no, they had no idea why a [Sharktopede] had a gullet. But it did, and they fought there. Great weapons were wielded and terrible magics arcaned. And, yet, for the end, there was no story to tell, no legend to be born.
For, seemingly hours later, and after crawling along the spinal cavity, the pair finally located the [Sharktopede’s] brain.
As they looked (anticlimactically) at the small apple-sized organ, Dips could only wonder if this would actually work or if the squishy meat-thinker would repel his attacks once again.
Cora just drooled and, before either of them knew it, had taken a bite out of it.
<[Let There Be Light]?>.
Chomp.
> Ding!
>
> For slaying Robert (L252) [Sharktopede Patriarch of Ager] (U) (L126) [Raging Sea Sorcerer] (F) (L126), you have gained 71,262,107 XP.
>
> [Slanish Ottermore] has reached Level 128.
>
> [Native Ocean Gastronomist] has reached Level 128.
Not bad, Cora thought.
> Ding!
>
> For slaying Robert (L252) [Sharktopede Patriarch of Ager] (U) (L126) [Raging Sea Sorcerer] (F) (L126), you have gained 7,506,900 XP.
>
> [Slanish Ottermore] has reached Level 111.
>
> [Blue Steward of the Briny Deeps] has reached Level 111.
Not bad at all, Dips thought.
Suddenly, the whole creature shuddered, and the two were hurled through the darkness against a slimy interior wall.
It was much closer than their initial entrance.
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No legend may have been born from such a anticlimactic ending. But that was not to say it had no impact at all on persons near and far. The local seafaring communities detected the great battle that occurred at sea, though they did not know it was internal to the beast. When it died explosively, the locals were cautious, certain that whatever creature slayed the great sea monster would take its place and be all the more terrible.
But a year, and then two, passed with calm seas. Reflecting on the date of the battle, the communities decided to mark it as a day of celebration. And they did so for several decades, prospering greatly with new fishing grounds and increased trade. A small golden age occurred for them, up until the next terror of the deeps adopted Robert’s former territory. But that, they say, is history.
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