Malphegor
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Ch. 41: The Demon's Hunt: Echoes from the Deep
🕑 Added 2024-08-06 16:32:58 +0000 UTCZabuza stood on the distant shore, his eyes fixed on the Land of Waves. Something about the small island didn't feel right.
Even from afar, the small island seemed to exude an ominous aura. A thin mist clung to the island's shores, hiding the port from view even in the daylight.
But his sharp eyes picked out a tall, brick-red structure in the distance, spewing thick smoke into the gray sky.
The building stood out against the simple wooden houses along the coast.
"A chimney," he mused, his brow furrowing. "But for what purpose? And how did a poor fishing village get its hands on such advanced technology?"
The structure reminded him of the industrial facilities he'd seen in bigger, more developed villages.
Its presence on this small island raised some serious questions. Had the Land of Waves undergone some kind of secret industrial boom?
And if so, how did they get the resources and know-how to do it?
He didn't have time to wonder about it. He jumped down from his perch on the hillside and made his way towards the port.
But as he approached the boatmen on the docks, he quickly realized his mission wouldn't be as easy as he thought.
The moment he mentioned sailing to the Land of Waves, they shook their heads and refused.
"Impossible," they said, their faces grim. "We won't take you there, no matter how much you offer."
Zabuza, who had disguised himself as a civilian with plain clothes and a scarf wrapped around his face, pressed for an explanation.
"Why not?" he asked, trying to sound neutral.
One of the boatmen, a grizzled old sailor with a face like worn leather, leaned in close, voice dropping to a whisper.
"You're not from around here, are you? Let me tell you something, stranger. These waters... they're haunted by a sea demon."
"A sea demon?" Zabuza repeated, his interest piqued.
he boatman's eyes went wide, and he frantically gestured for Zabuza to keep his voice down.
"Keep your voice down!" he hissed, glancing nervously out at the sea. "It might hear you."
Zabuza couldn't help but feel a hint of amusement at the man's superstition. "If the sea demon is such a threat," he asked, "how do you still sail these waters?"
The boatman hesitated, choosing his words carefully. "It's strange," he said finally, "but the demon only seems to target boats heading to the Land of Waves."
"Anywhere else, and you're fine. But that island?" He shook his head emphatically. "It's off-limits, no exceptions."
This only made Zabuza more curious. A demon that had targeted one specific destination, leaving all other routes alone?
It didn't add up. He pressed for more information, but the boatman clammed up, his face pale and his hands shaking.
"I've said too much already," he muttered, backing away. "I won't talk about it again, not here, not by the water. If you know what's good for you, you'll leave it be."
With that, he turned and hurried back to his boat, leaving Zabuza alone on the dock.
His eyes narrowed as he watched the boatman retreat. The man's fear seemed real, but something didn't add up.
Why were they willing to talk about the sea demon so close to the water if they really believed it could hear them?
Maybe they thought it couldn't reach them on land, or maybe their fear was mixed with a desperate need to warn others.
Zabuza decided to gather more information without being seen. He slipped into the shadows of the docks, using his ninja skills to move silently among the boats and crates.
As he listened in, he picked up on snippets of conversation that painted a disturbing picture.
"...third boat this week, just disappeared..."
"...screams in the night, like nothing I've ever heard..."
"...water turned black as ink, and then..."
The fear was visible, and the incidents seemed to be happening more and more often.
But something still didn't make sense. His analytical mind raced, trying to connect these strange events with his mission to find Kojiro.
Could the missing-nin be behind this somehow?
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As night fell, Zabuza made his way to a small tavern in the nearby town. The owner, a stout man with a bushy beard and a tight-fitting vest, seemed eager to share the story of the sea demon with an outsider.
"It all started about a month ago," the tavern keeper said, leaning in close. "Boats heading to the Land of Waves just vanished, without a trace. And the ones that did come back?"
He shuddered, his face turning serious. "The men on board were half-crazy with fear, babbling about a monster that rose up from the depths to drag them down."
Zabuza listened carefully, trying to separate fact from fiction. "Did anyone actually see this sea demon?" he asked, sounding skeptical.
The tavern keeper shrugged. "If they did, they didn't live to tell about it. Or at least, they didn't stick around long enough to give a clear story."
He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "But there was one guy, Pochi, a regular here. He lost his boat, came back half-drowned and raving about things he'd seen."
"Things that will make your blood run cold."
Zabuza smiled. "What kind of things?" he asked, his eyes intense.
The tavern keeper glanced around, making sure they weren't being overheard. "He talked about a creature," he whispered.
"A giant, thousands of meters tall, moving through the waves like they were nothing. And surrounding it, these... these green frogmen, he called them. Like something out of a nightmare."
He shook his head, looking haunted. "Pochi kept muttering these strange words, over and over. 'Cthulhu,' he'd say, and 'R'lyeh.' Like they were burned into his brain."
Zabuza frowned, not recognizing the names. "What happened to Pochi?" he asked, already suspecting the answer.
"Vanished," the tavern keeper said, his voice grim. "Disappeared from his sickbed on the seventh night, without a trace. Just like all the others who crossed paths with that... that thing."
As the tavern keeper spoke, Zabuza picked up on some inconsistencies in his story.
The man seemed to know too much for someone who'd never been to the island himself.
Was he a retired sailor, or did he have connections with traders who'd been there?
And why was he so willing to share this information with a stranger?
The tavern keeper fell silent, lost in thought. Then, as if shaking off a dark memory, he fixed Zabuza with a strange look.
"You're not planning on going out there, are you?" he asked, his tone almost accusatory. "Because if you are, you'd best think twice. There's something in those waters that doesn't want to be disturbed."
Zabuza met his gaze, his expression hidden behind his scarf. "I have my reasons," he said simply, not elaborating further.
The tavern keeper studied him for a long moment, then let out a heavy sigh. "It's your funeral," he said, shaking his head. "But if you're set on it, there's one more thing you should know."
He reached beneath the bar, rummaging for a moment before pulling out a small, glinting object.
'This coin again', Zabuza realized.
"The people of the Land of Waves," the tavern keeper said, turning the coin over in his fingers, "they've suddenly become rich."
"They're throwing around gold like it's nothing, buying up everything in sight. Some folks around here have started doing business with them, trading goods for a taste of that wealth."
He fixed Zabuza with a pointed look. "Funny, isn't it? An island of poor people, suddenly flush with cash? Makes you wonder where it all came from."
Zabuza was deep in thought, the implications of the tavern keeper's words swirling in his mind.
Where was this wealth coming from?
The Land of Waves had no known gold mines or valuable resources. And with the demon supposedly preventing trade, how were they getting goods to sell?
The effects of this sudden wealth were visible even on the mainland. He had noticed new construction and bustling activity in the marketplace, despite the fear surrounding the island.
It seemed that greed was a powerful counterbalance to superstition.
"One last thing," the tavern keeper said, as Zabuza turned to leave. "If you're set on going to that island, there's a boat that comes to the port every morning at dawn."
"It's the only one that'll make the trip."
He hesitated, then added, "But be warned, the people who come off that boat... there's something not right about them. Something off."
Zabuza nodded, filing the information away. "I'll keep that in mind," he said, and then he was gone, vanishing into the night.
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As Zabuza made his way back to the inn, his mind was racing with questions and possibilities.
A missing Kiri-nin, a mysterious island, a sea demon that haunted the waves, and now this inexplicable wealth... it was a puzzle.
And at the center of it all, that name echoed in his thoughts like a half-remembered nightmare.
Cthulhu.
