There is something truly freeing about being back here again. The fuller breath. The cool salt that sticks to your scales. Not being bound to the whims of gravity. Light cascading, splitting into thousands of slow needles. Not quite reaching the ocean floor. Colourful coral doting about. Otherworldly fish, roaming in groups as if they are conducting an orchestra. Looming darkness just over the horizon. As I gently floated in the centre, dreading diving any further. Thoughts drifted back like the ocean waves crashing against the beach slowly pulling back, getting ready to strike again with renewed strength.
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“Uncle told me stories about the surface world”. He described the lands and creatures. Brought back books. He was a businessman up here. From the last hundred years, humans fished our surrounding waters almost bare. At first, we were furious, then frustrated in hunger and then resigned. He is the one who took the first step to stepping out to the real world. Woman of the tribe giving up there precious sea pearls traded in marriage. Willing to sacrifice anything for their children. He spied on humans to disguise as them. Mastered the language. Sold the pearls to some rich monarch. Bought the small fishing company, fishing our waters. With our specialised knowledge we slowly expanded the company, eventually the biggest fishing company. At least the parent company to the ten biggest located around the world.
Cool air brushed my scales. A shiver wrecked my spine. Scalding light hit my body. My knees buckled under the pain. Sand hugged my body. Crawled in crevices that I didn’t know existed. Wriggling about, regret marred my mind. Slow exhales. Pain subsided slowly as my body became used to everything, Though the discomfort from the invasive sand never left. I submerged my body back into the ocean.
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‘Transform’
My scales receded, whilst simultaneously damp sand like skin grew slowly over my body. It felt restrictive. In the last decade, a lot has changed though. The ‘apocalypse’ took place. Dungeons of various types appeared around the world, and a mysterious system appeared to help the residents fight back. Some believe, this is some kind of sick spectator sport, organised by a higher being. The system only being there to grant, just enough power that they don't get bored. At least that's what a particular conspiracy book that uncle brought back said.
S ranks rose. Those a cut above the rest. Heroes as people like to fondly call them. They got lucky in dungeons or some kind of divine intervention, no one really knows. Regardless, the sheer power they held was undisputed.
The system has another neat benefit. It gave my uncle a Transform skill, allowing him to transform him into a human. He could finally appear in public light and make business manoeuvres in a much easier manner. And manoeuvres he made. Who knew the business model for maintaining sustainable fishing reserves also transferred to dungeons so well.
The smoothness of my skin felt eerie.
“Ahgh Ah” I adjusted my voice. My interest in the surface world would always set me apart from others in my species. I hounded my uncle, or the few people that helped him, to learn the language. In return, I had to learn business from my Uncle, among other things. I had no real interest in his business, what I truly wanted was to be a hero. Bring the fictional Aquaman from stories to real life. After the apocalypse, my goals changed a little. I wanted to be a hero in the hunter world, not just a random myth like the Yeti. I wonder though…
Transforming is one of the useful things he did teach me. Involving practising disguising myself as a human. A practice born from guesswork. I grabbed my bag and pulled out dry human clothes. Quickly slipping them on. Hoodie and jeans. I already didn’t like wearing jeans, with the transformation skill it only got worse.
With a wobbly strut, I walked along the shore. The sun high above in the clouds, my shadow, and footsteps following my lead. Giant structures of glass and concrete on the horizon.