“We’re here,” George whispered. He was crouched by a tree, his head barely peeking over the bush in front of himself. A vast yellow shore and blue ocean stretched as far as the eye could see. A dead leviathan lay on the sand, its body half-dismantled. A group of fishmen were hacking away at its body, taking out the bones and organs.

“Are you sure this is the place?” the noble, Evan Lancefell, asked as he squinted ahead. Behind him, a group of adventurers were lying on their bellies, holding their breaths and staying as still as possible.

“There’s no other beach,” George said and frowned. “This is the place.”

“But there’s nothing here? What skeletons? What undead threat?” Evan glanced at George before patting the bag on his waist. Would the fishman really exchange leviathan materials for a prank? Fishmen weren’t like fairies.

“But … they were here…” George stood up and stared at the beach. There weren’t any traces of the combat and struggle that he knew had occurred. “We repelled them? Impossible.” He stepped over the bush and headed towards the fishmen on the shore while shouting, “Hey! I’m back! What happened to the undead?”

The fishmen holding the leviathan materials stopped moving and stared at each other. “Undead?”

“He’s onto us!”

“Don’t worry, I’ll diffuse the situation. Play along.”

One of the fishmen shouted back, “What undead?”

“Oh, it’s crazy ol’ Joe. He’s escaped from his hut again. What did he do this time?”

“We should catch him before he hurts himself like last time.”

George’s face paled as the fishmen charged at him at a speed faster than most fishmen could swim. He made it back to the bush before he was tackled to the ground. As the fishmen proceeded to restrain his limbs, Evan stood up and said, “Stop! What is the meaning of this?”

The fishmen exchanged glances, ignoring the gagged and struggling George. “You are?”

“My name is Evan Lancefell, son of Duke Lancefell, leader of the Shining Stars of Lancefell.” Evan drew his lance from his back. “I’ll have to ask you to unhand my client.”

A red fishman opened his mouth. He spoke with a gravelly voice, “Crazy ol’ Joe’s your client?”

Evan’s brow furrowed. “Crazy ol’ Joe? His name is George.”

The red fishman sighed and clacked his teeth together, making clicking noises. “Poor ol’ Joe. Poor, poor ol’ Joe.” He wiped at his eyes, but Evan didn’t see any tears form on the fishman’s face. “His son was named George, but he died in a terrible, terrible accident out at sea. Joe lost his wife to the same beast a week later. He hasn’t been right in the head ever since.”

The other fishmen nodded in agreement. “It’s true. A month ago, he was planting sea urchins on the beach, trying to grow urchin trees. The month before that, he thought he was the leader of our tribe and made nonsensical rules about wearing pink robes on Fridays. His bouts of insanity are very vivid and real to him. He may seem cohesive when he actually isn’t.”

The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

“I, I see,” Evan said and scratched his head. “Then there’s no undead threat?”

The red fishman blinked twice. “Undead threat? The continent is partially ruled by holy dragons. Why would there ever be undead here?” He sighed. “Is that what Joe told you? Are you adventurers hired by him?”

Evan frowned at the struggling George who was trying to escape the fishmen’s grasp. “Yes. He hired us in return for the leviathan materials.” His gaze landed on the leviathan corpse in the distance. He turned around and said, “You can show yourselves.”

The group of adventurers who were hiding stood up and dusted themselves off. None of them had good expressions on their faces. Evan nodded and faced the group of fishmen. “Shall we have a discussion?”

The red fishman frowned. “Ol’ Joe isn’t capable of thinking straight, but he did offer parts of the leviathan to you. Fishmen are honorable, so we’ll keep his word. Why don’t you all rest here? It looks like you’ve had a long journey. We’ll prepare an unforgettable meal with the leviathan’s flesh.”

“Are you capable of making such a large decision?” Evan asked.

“Yes,” the red fishman said with a smile. “One might call me the leader of all the tribes. My name is, uh, Noteleks.” He pointed at the fishmen nearby. “He’s Eno; she’s Owt; he’s Eerht. Why don’t you take them to our guest lodgings, Owt?”

The female fishman nodded. “Follow me, please. Your meal will be ready soon.”

Evan nodded and made to follow after the fishman, but the woman by his side tugged his sleeve. Her face was pale. “There’s something fishy about this.”

Evan frowned at the woman, his sister. “…Really? A fishman pun?”

“I’m serious!” the girl whispered, practically hissing. She tied her red hair up into a bun while clearing away the grass that had gathered on her dress. “How strong is the average fishman?”

“E, no, D-ranked?” Evan followed after the fishman while whispering to his sister. The other adventurers glanced around as the scenery shifted from grass to sand. The person at the back of the line let out a muffled grunt, causing his companions to turn around.

“Hey, is everything alright?”

The man didn’t respond. A second later, he let out a gravelly laugh that sounded like rocks rubbing together. “A fly flew into my throat,” he said in a raspy voice. He waved his hands forward. “Let’s catch up before we’re left behind.” No one noticed the slightly depressed surface on the beach where he had stood.

“What level would you say they are?” Evan’s sister asked.

Evan rubbed his chin. “Fifteen? That’s average.”

“Right. That red fishman over there. I scanned him,” Evan’s sister said as her voice lowered even further. “He’s level 103.”

“Huh?” Evan stopped walking.

Owt turned around and tilted her head. “Is something the matter?”

“N-no,” Evan said and lowered his head. His eyes widened at the footprints left behind by the fishman. They were skinny, thin. Unwebbed. “I… just had the feeling I forgot to lock the door before I left the house.”

“Oh,” Owt said. She turned around and continued walking down the beach, leaving a trail of ominous footprints behind.

“Eve. What level is she?” Evan whispered to his sister.

Eve grimaced. “60. That’s almost on par with us.” Once their party had reached an average level of 65, they were promoted to A-ranked adventurers. Now, they encountered a suspicious fishman who was as strong as their weakest member. “What do we do?”

“Nothing for now.” Evan’s expression darkened. “We can’t act without more information or we’ll be at a disadvantage. Maybe they sent their strongest warriors to dismember the leviathan?” He wanted to believe his own words. He really did, but the footprints in the sand sent chills down his spine. Evan frowned as more adventurers behind him began to freeze and cough. His brow furrowed as he turned around and asked, “What’s wrong with all of you?”

Owt smiled as she stopped as well. “Maybe they’re unused to the sea air.”

Eve bit her lower lip before raising her staff into the air. “Lord of the holy light, please, clear my cloudy eyes and allow me to see your splendor. Disenchant!” A ripple of mana expanded outwards from her body like the wave formed by a pebble dropping into a pond. The blue light touched the bodies of the adventurers and Owt, causing their images to distort.

“Eh?” a high-pitched voice asked as Evan and Eve stiffened. “Our illusion was dispelled?” A fairy fluttered over Eve’s staff with a frown.

The thirty or so skeletons that had replaced the adventurers glanced at each other. A brief moment of silence passed. “Dogpile?” one of them asked.

The other skeletons nodded. “Dogpile.”

Evan and Eve screamed as they were buried underneath a pile of moving bones.