Chasing down the rest of the crabs—all ten of them she could find—and then roasting them over the Harbor Guards’ dying bonfire took just a little under twenty-five minutes, and by the time Marisol finished stuffing her face, the ground rumbled again.

  Bioluminescent bluish-pink light flickered around her, and she immediately skated back around the ship, jumping onto the hull to face off against the distant wall of water. It was fifty meters tall and imposing as ever, sweeping in fast enough to completely demolish the Harbor Guard’s ship in a single blow. There was no getting around it. It to be stopped here and now.

  Thankfully, the Harbor Guards had shown her how to protect herself before passing out themselves.

  Her status screen popped up next to her head.

  [Name: Marisol Vellamira]

  [Grade: E-Rank Giant-Class]

  [Class: Water Strider]

  [Swarmblood Art: ???]

  [Aura: 642]

  [Points: 54]

  [Strength: 4, Speed: 4, Toughness: 3 (+1), Dexterity: 2, Perception: 3]

  [// MUTATION TREE]

  [T1 Mutation | Striding Glaives Lvl. 2

  [T2 Mutations | Basic Gills | Repelling Hydrospines Lvl. 5

  [// EQUIPPED SYMBIOSTEEL]

  [Ghost Crab Scarf (Grade: F-Rank)(Tou: +1/1)(Aura: -200]

  The first change she noticed was with her ghost crab scarf—she was now getting an additional level in toughness, meaning her body had gotten completely used to it and was drawing out its full potential. Extra toughness would come in handy for what was about to go down.

  Marisol nodded and faced the wall of water head-on, parting her lips slowly.

  Air rushed into her lungs, filling her completely. A surge of strength flowed through her bones. Standing on the sideways hull with the Harbor Guards sleeping peacefully below and behind her, she exhaled coolly and dragged one glaive behind the other gracefully—she had one chance to make this work.

  The Archive obliged, and the shadow of her mama shimmered into existence in front of her, standing proud and strong with both hands crossed in front of her.

  A hundred meters, fifty meters, twenty meters—the wall of water loomed over her, threatening to smash and grind her bones into dust.

   the devil away with the tip of her toes.

  It was a gamble. The Archive had said as much. She vibrated the hydrospines on her glaives as hard as she could, launched into the air, spun three turns in place, and right as the massive wall of water reached her—she kicked it with the very tip of her glaive, sending out a ripple powerful enough to redirect the wave around the ends of the ship.

  It worked.

  Briefly.

  Her hydrospines vibrating at maximum speed made it , but the wall of water was fifty meters thick, so she spun one more time and kicked it again—then again and again and again, continuously redirecting the water around the ship with her water-repelling ripples.

  A pained smile forced its way onto her face. Stars swirled in her eyes. Each and every last one of her kicks hit the exact same spot on the wall of water. The torrent in her ears was deafening, the roar and groan of the ship being nudged back a single inch every second physically hurt her head, but the fight was exhilarating. The focus she needed to kick the exact same spot each time, the toughness she needed to resist the imminent muscle cramp in her legs, and the sheer she needed to maintain lest she spun herself off balance. Was this not what she started sand-dancing for?

  Stolen story; please report.

  Ten seconds. Twenty seconds. Thirty seconds. The waves of water she was kicking and redirecting to the side seemed never-ending, like peeling an onion still growing on the ground. Still, she held on. Cold water splattered hard into her face, her thighs grew numb from the sheer exertion. She was convinced her glaives may snap off her knees after all was said and done, but was sand-dancing: graceful and powerful, dangerous and fun.

  And satisfying.

  She saw what looked like the light at the end of the wave, and the final wave of water smashed into her body as she suddenly lost all strength. The water knocked her off her glaives and onto her back, spine slamming against the hull, and she felt herself drowning in the wave for ten good seconds.

  Those ten seconds were the longest seconds in her life. She felt like she was dying. She tried to open her mouth to scream, but then—fresh air.

  Bright, bioluminescent light.

  The final wave of water moved past her, washing deeper into the remipede, and every muscle in her body that could cramp, did. She could breathe again. She immediately tensed and cried out in pain, biting her tongue so hard it bled, her body hurting in places she didn’t even know could hurt… but she also didn’t know she could laugh hard, rolling left and right on the hull as she cackled and cried in equal parts.

  Even her neck muscles cramped and she winced, convulsing on the hull for a few long, drawn-out seconds. Somehow she still managed to chortle; somehow she still managed to cry tears of joy.

  [T2 Core Mutation Unlocked: Basic Gills Lvl. 1]

  [Brief Description: You have evolved tiny slits on your neck that function as basic gills. You can now extract oxygen and breathe underwater for upwards of one minute, after which you will have to begin holding your breath. Subsequent levels in this mutation will increase the amount of time you can breathe underwater. At max level, you will be able to breathe underwater for up to ten minutes]

  [Aura: 642 → 692]

  [Points: 54 → 4]

  Her status popped up next to her head while she was lying flat on her back, breathing heavily.

  the Archive murmured.

  Fumbling, she slapped her fingers around her neck felt there extremely thin slits—two on each side of her neck, as though someone had scarred her with a knife.

  If only she had a mirror to see whether they were pretty-looking or not.

  the Archive said plainly, though she it sounded like it was actually very impressed with her.

  She snorted, cackling and groaning as she forced herself to sit up straight.

  … The Harbor Guards woke up groggily, all of them rubbing the back of their heads in sync.

  Captain Enrique himself had slept sitting upright on a wooden beam, and he was quite sure he’d watched the bonfire in front of him go out before he went to sleep. He was quite sure he was the last to fall asleep, so, naturally, he was befuddled as he looked around him with bleary eyes.

  Clenching his jaw and looking around at his men, he was sure they were just as confused as to why they were still alive. The giant remipede swallowed massive, unavoidable walls of water every thirty minutes, and they were throughout the ten days they’d been stuck in here—he glanced down at the pocket watch in his hand and saw he’d been asleep for ten hours. They’d been asleep for ten hours, which meant they hadn’t been consciously using their Arts to repel the walls of water… so how were they still alive?

  What sort of miracle intervened to keep them alive in this hellhole?

  “Captain,” one of his men croaked, pointing above him. “Look.”

  The rest of his men were staring dumbfoundedly at the ship behind him, too, so he turned and looked, rubbing his eyes as he did.

  And there, standing above him on the hull of the sideways ship, was the shadow of a bug-slayer with an obtrusively bright pink scarf trailing behind her, billowing in the winds like a serpent’s tail.

  But she was no bug-slayer, and that was no tail.

  The moment she heard them waking up in a shuffle, she turned and waved down at them, a pearly smile greeting them with good morning cheer, and then—the plank of wood she was standing on snapped.

  Again.

  She plummeted ten meters down with a scream, and Enrique had never moved as fast before. He darted out of his seat and caught her before she could impale herself on anything sharp, the rest of his men immediately kicking off their beds to surround the two of them.

  Enrique immediately kicked his men to the side and barked at them to make the girl a makeshift bed on a plank of wood, and then he lay her down on it, fumbling inside his trousers for anything she could drink. Anything she could chew on for energy. Seeing his and the rest of his men’s desperation, the girl laughed and wiped tears from the corner of her eyes. It was like it didn’t even matter to her that her whole body was twitching and shuddering uncontrollably.

  “... Ye have a water-repelling mutation, too?” Enrique whispered, gripping his hands into fists.

  The girl nodded slowly. “Yep.”

  “And… how long?”

  “Oh, I dunno,” she muttered, her black-rimmed eyes rolling around as she thought. “Maybe… ah. Archive said ten hours. That’s… uhh, Archive, do the math for– ah, that’s twenty waves I kicked away.”

  His men grimaced and lowered their gaze, breaking eye contact with her. Enrique remained silent, though, and his face was dark as a forest on a windless night; guilt gripped at his heart and wouldn’t let go.

  “Why?” he asked. “For a bunch of ants like us… ye kicked twenty waves off for us? For what? So we could live a little longer and suffer a little longer—”

  “You wear the same necklace as that pregnant lady I saw up on the surface, right before I was swallowed,” the girl mumbled, almost in a daze, and he immediately stiffened; so did the rest of his men. “She’s… one of you guys, right? Come to think of it, she mention a captain or something… before I kicked her off on a rowboat. You know her, guys?”

  Enrique gripped the girl’s hand with both of his, staring deep into her eyes.

  “Ye saw my daughter?”

  “Oh. That’s your daughter? Aye, she’s fine… probably. I gave her lots of food and water before kicking her out of the fog,” the girl said, shrugging casually. “Also, I dunno… uhh, I dunno where you got the idea that I kicked off the waves for , you drunk bastards.”

  All of them pursed their lips, and she reveled in the sight.

  “I fear dying here… and I fear my mama dying back home, in that little desert town,” she whispered, winking at him as her breaths slowed. “I’m gonna make it to the Whirlpool City, you’re all gonna help me with this plan I’ve got by fixing your goddamned ship—and that’s all there is to it.”

  Then, the girl was out like a bulb. No amount of staring or poking at her cheeks could nudge her awake, and, for his part… Enrique didn’t to wake her up.

  She’d done enough for them.

  And if she wasn’t lying—if she seen his daughter on the surface—then he’d be the first to swear off mushroom wine for the rest of his life if it meant he could see the sun again.

  “... Well,” he drawled, tilting his head back to glare at his men. They responded in kind, their Harbor Guards’ spirit still burning bright and strong. “I guess now we’ve got a whole-ass warship to fix, eh?”