The Harbour Imperators’ conference room at the top of the Whirlpool City was as circular as the volcano city they overlooked.

  A golden lantern hung from the ceiling. The walls were glass, etched in spiralling patterns to mimic the flow of water, and moonlight filtered through them from every conceivable direction. Six lighthouses were built at the edge of the crater to overlook the ever-churning whirlpool in the centre of the dormant volcano—this way, they had eyes on anything that could claw out of the whirlpool at any given location—but there was no doubt that Lighthouse Seven, where all six Lighthouse Imperators were currently gathered in, was the safest place in the entire city right now.

  All in total, six of them sat along the dark, polished wooden table in the centre of the room. Faint scents of seawater lingered in the air, mixing with the earthy smell of aged wood and the metallic tangs of armor that the six of them wore into attendance. ‘Black Storm’ was still active outside, after all. They must’ve rushed through pouring rain just to get to Lighthouse Seven in time for their weekly meeting at nine.

  Victor Morina and two dozen Harbour Imperators stood along the walls of the conference room, behind the seated Lighthouse Imperators, and at the very least, he wasn't supposed to be here. The weekly meetings at nine were usually reserved only for the Lighthouse Imperators and the Harbour Imperatrix—the One-Eyed Lord of the Whirlpool City seemingly dozing off at the end of the table—but tonight was a bit of a special night. Even someone like Victor was called in to attend with his other Lighthouse Seven colleagues despite not possessing the proper rank to do so, which meant this meeting was serious business.

  He should be paying more attention.

  Rather, he paid more attention, because the Lighthouse Imperators had each already given their reports already, and he’d kinda slept through most of them while leaning against the glass wall.

  Yawning with his arms crossed, he glanced out behind him and pursed his lips. It’d been nearly two months since they activated ‘Black Storm’, engulfing the entire city and the seas around it in a never-ending downpour. Through the rippled glass, he could just barely make out the houses and buildings that clung to the volcano’s sides, rooftops slick and shining under the relentless rain. The sloped streets spiralled downwards, five hundred metres to the bottom where the harbours were, and anytime now their canals would overflow with torrents of water. The city wasn’t built to endure such harsh rain for longer than a month, let alone nearing two.

  he thought, glancing back at the seated Lighthouse Imperators as he did.

  “... So, to sum, we can’t risk lowering ‘Black Storm’ until we’re certain what Corpsetaker and his Leviathans are doing in Depth Nine,” the Third Lighthouse Imperator said. “But we know what he’s doing down there, don’t we? He’s calling Mutant-Classes from all over the Deepwater Legion Front to the city. He wants them to come and free him from the outside while he and his Leviathans continue to assault us from the inside.”

  The Fifth nodded. “That wraith shrimp nearly did in the Harbour Guards stationed outside the city alone. More will come. I do not know how it managed to get so close to the city without any of us detecting it, but I propose we keep ‘Black Storm’ activated until we stop getting reports about Mutant-Classes decimating our fleets across Deepwater Legion for at least a month.”

  “And when will that be, Rei-Rei?” the Second muttered. “Trade’s gutted. ‘Ah ain’t had marlins in my dinners for an entire month already. Ye want me to go without marlin for at least another two months?”

  “It is the safe option. That Mutant-Class got dangerously close to the city without any of us noticing. Even with ‘Black Storm’ activated, it would have managed to reach the lower city and wreak minor havoc before any of us could have responded to it—and let us not forget how atrocious our response time to that Mutant-Class was.”

  The Third shrugged. “True. But we all still diving in the whirlpool, and it’s not exactly in our job description to defend the city from external threats. We’re Harbour Imperators. We stop bugs from crawling of the whirlpool, and the Harbour Guards stop bugs from crawling from everywhere else. If anyone needs a lecture, it’s the Guards—”

  “Ya can’t expect my Guards to deal with a F-rank Mutant-Class. They’re trained and equipped only to deal with normal crustaceans, and ninety percent of ‘em standin’ guard by the lighthouses back then weren’t at all prepared for one to make it so close to the shore,” the Fourth said, putting her feet on the table. “A lot of Guards died during that shrimp’s attack, ya know? Spare ‘em the lecture. I’ll take up personal trainin’ for the lot of ‘em when I’ve free time on my hands, though don’t expect ‘em to suddenly be able to beat a Mutant-Class in just a month or two even if I feed 'em the shrimp. Ain’t like most Imperators can confidently beat a Mutant-Class solo, either.”

  The room went quiet as the Fourth brought the point home. Victor sighed quietly. The city lost a lot of Harbour Guards a month ago—two hundred and three men, to be exact. Replenishing those numbers would be an arduous task for Lighthouse Four. They’d probably see incredibly low new recruits this year, perhaps even the lowest it's ever been in decades— but that’d simply be the natural result of a colossal screw-up that should’ve never been allowed to get close to the city in the first place.

  “... We need new recruits,” the Third muttered. “Both for the Guards and the Imperators. If we have enough numbers to hold the city on the surface, then all of us Lighthouse Imperators can just get together, dive to Depth Nine, and fuck things up a little down there. We can at least stop Corpsetaker from calling other Mutant-Classes over for maybe a few years, and then we can lift ‘Black Storm’ to resume trade—”

  “Then why the hell are we skirtin’ around the reason why we’re here tonight?” The Second raised a finger, chuckling under her breath. “Ain’t like none of us heard what happened. A Mutant gettin’ close to the city ain’t all that uncommon, really—we always manage to slaughter it in the lower city even if it gets ashore—but this time, it’s that guy who slaughtered it we’re all here to talk about, right?”

  The Third narrowed his eyes at her. “It’s a lady. Even younger than you were when you killed your first Mutant-Class, I think.”

  “Hah? Ain’t no way—”

  “Dethroned as the former precocious child of the Imperators. What a cruel world.” The Third sighed, glancing at the Fourth as he did. “The Guards she sailed here with gave their testimonies, didn’t they? What’d they say about her?”

  The Fourth scratched the back of her head. “Not much. That Enrique fellow ain’t really talkative this past week since he’s still stuck outside with ‘Black Storm’ activated, and apparently, that was his daughter the Mutant-Class shrimp burst out of. It’s hard tryin’ to get anythin’ outta him. Even harder since we can only communicate with the Guards stuck outside by tradin’ cannonballs stuffed with handwritten letters, and damn if that ain’t annoyin’ to do day in, day out—”

  “Okay, okay. And?”

  “... Accordin’ to Enrique, the girl’s some sort of ‘Sand-Dancer’ from a desert town on the mainland continent,” the Fourth said, shrugging nonchalantly. “No combat experience. Knows next to nothin’ about bugs. She told him she was headin’ to the city to get healin’ water for her sick mama back home, but four months ago, the ship she was on got capsized by a giant shrimp before she even really left the Harbour City.”

  “Four months ago…” the Fifth mused, hand on her chin. “That was when reports of Mutant-Classes acting up all over Deepwater Legion started coming in from all over as well. It may not have been a coincidence that her ship was attacked during that tumultuous time.”

  “It ain’t. And get this: there was a on her ship at the time, and while Enrique ain’t able to tell me much, I’ve run through the records myself. Four months ago, there supposed to be a ship with a Flower Cape on board arrivin’ at the city, so I ran through the list of Flower Capes who’ve worked with us before—”

  “Antonio Saranno,” the First said, and everyone glanced at the old man. His eyes remained closed as he leaned back in his chair, hands clasped in his lap. “He’s worked with me for years. I know the man. Good bug-slayer. bug-slayer. If we haven’t heard from him in four months, I assume he went down that day with his crew.”

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  Victor dipped his head as the Fourth nodded slowly.

  “Aye,” she said slowly, “or, at least, we’re pretty sure he’s dead. ‘Cause the girl has an Altered Symbiotic System. Only person she could’ve gotten that from is another Flower Cape.”

  The Second whistled. “Sick. So she took the system, got a class, and then flew west until she found Enrique’s ship? That still don’t explain—”

  “She skated here,” the Fourth interrupted. “Accordin’ to Enrique, she’s got the Water Strider Class.”

  Victor’s ears perked, and the Harbour Imperatrix—the silent, sleeping lord at the end of table—opened his eye.

  The other six at the table didn’t seem to notice.

  “Water Strider Class?” the Fifth mumbled. “You don’t mean… that silly class literally of humanity stopped production and distribution for a decade ago?”

  The Fourth tilted her head. “Hey, that’s what Enrique wrote to me. ‘Sides, the Water Strider Class by itself ain’t too strange—apparently, she skated through a storm, landed on a giant horseshoe crab island, fucked up a bunch of Blackclaw Marauders who were hidin’ out there, and then ‘sailed’ their ship by herself until she reached Enrique. By the way, Enrique and his crew were already eaten by a giant remipede at that point, so she bumped into that thing and got herself eaten as well.”

  “... And?” the Third asked.

  “And she led the crew outta the giant remipede as well,” the Fourth said, shrugging again. “We’ve confirmed the death of a Giant-Class remipede in that area four days ago. She blew it apart from the inside-out, picked up Enrique’s pregnant daughter driftin’ on the surface, and then continued sailin’ with Enrique… and they ran into the Whitewhale Marauders.”

  “Oh my,” the Second murmured.

  “So they sailed into Dead Island Straits, came in contact with the Damselfly Oracles, and fucked up that one whale that followed them in as well,” the Fourth finished. “Ye know the rest, don’t ya? They left the Dead Island Straits, sailed straight here, got stopped by the lighthouses, and then the Mutant-Classes showed up. She ended up killin’ it herself.”

  “Wait, wait.” The Third scrunched his brows and held up a hand. “How that Mutant-Class get past us, anyways? The Worm God was watching, wasn’t he? Shouldn’t he have told us a Mutant-Class of that calibre was getting that close to us?”

  “... This is just me guessin’ based on Enrique’s story,” the Fourth said, “but I this is how it went: that wraith shrimp led a buncha giant shrimps to attack Antonio’s ship on its way to the city, probably thinkin’ Antonio will at least continue towards the city by himself. Y'all know how that Worm God’s perception work? He knows when powerful bugs are comin’ by perceivin' their auras. A Mutant-Class is pretty strong, so it’ll naturally give off a strong aura, but what do ya think would happen if a Mutant-Class specialised in suppressing its own aura sticks close to a Flower Cape who has a decently strong aura?”

  The Fifth frowned. “The Mutant-Class’ aura would be camouflaged alongside the Flower Cape’s. The Worm God would not be able to notice the shrimp easily, and then he would not be able to alert us to its coming.”

  “Right. So the shrimp's plan was probably somethin' like this: destroy Antonio's ship, get him to go to the city alone to report what happened, and then follow him all the way here so it can slip through our defences,” the Fourth said. “Unfortunately, it probably didn’t expect Antonio to die in that very first attack… but that girl inherited his Altered Symbiotic System, and surprise surprise, she ain’t that weak herself. So, it must’ve been followin’ her the entire time she was headin’ towards the city, usin’ her aura as camouflage. Then, when it found Enrique’s pregnant daughter drifting on the seas, it decided, while she and Enrique and the rest of the crew were still screwin’ around inside the giant remipede—”

  “The shrimp folded itself into a tinier form with its Swarmblood Art, ate its way into the daughter’s belly while she was still dehydrated and delirious from having been drifting on the seas for a week, and hoped it could just hide inside the daughter the rest of the way here," the First finished. "There was a reason why the daughter didn't get attacked by anything on the surface of the great blue for an entire month while the girl and the Guards were inside the giant remipede. nearby knew there was a Mutant-Class inside that belly, so they steered a wide berth from her."

  Silence.

  The Fourth scowled, baring her teeth at the First in what could be a smile, what could be a show of irritation. “Ya heard the story from Enrique, too? How’d ya know what I was thinking, old man?”

  The First dipped his head slightly. “The Mutant-Class was a wraith shrimp. It’s not the first time I’ve heard of one that can parasitize fetuses or pilot half-dead humans by replacing its host's skeleton. The captain's daughter may very well have been half-dead for a long time, but she just didn't know it herself, so she couldn't easily tell anyone—most parasites put a lot of effort adjusting and managing biochemical signals inside their hosts to make sure the hosts remain as oblivious as possible."

  He didn’t say any more than that, so the Fifth coughed and turned to look at the Fourth again.

  “After that… the shrimp stayed inside Enrique’s daughter until it realised we were not going to let them into the city because of ‘Black Storm’,” the Fifth said. “So it decided to pop out, fight its way through the final stretch, and then… the girl killed it? Alone?”

  The Fourth pulled her head back, looking down on the Fifth. “She killed it. Cut off all its arms. Split it down in half with lightnin’ glaives for legs. Ain’t such a silly class if she’s got an Art that puts fuckin’ on her legs, eh?”

  Victor snorted as the conference room fell silent again for what felt like the fifth or sixth time the past few minutes.

  he thought.

  “Well ,‘ahm assumin’ the real point of this meetin’ is to see who gets to take charge of the girl, yeah?” the Second said, leaning forward in her chair with a sharp, shining silver glint in her eyes. “Lighthouse Two will take her. We need new recruits for deep dives, anyways. Ah’ll whip her into shape for underwater missions.”

  “Who died and made ya king?” The Fourth scoffed. “Lighthouse Four is takin' the shrimp's carcass—we need the flesh to replenish the strength of the Guards who were seriously injured durin' that fight—and we'll also be takin' the girl. She already has experience workin’ with the Guards, so if we have her join them, they’ll also have someone who can help them deal with invadin' Mutant-Classes. We won’t have to worry about the city gettin’ attacked from the outside while we’re all divin’ down the whirlpool.”

  The Third whistled, shaking his head. “Objection. Lighthouse Three will take her. We’ve just had a bit of internal restructuring, so she’ll fit in perfectly with all the new recruits under my command. Having her go with either Lighthouse Two for deep dives or Lighthouse Four for city defence is much too complicated for an untrained warrior. I’ll start her off with simple Depth One to Three patrols, how about that?”

  The Second and Fourth clicked their tongues at once. “Rejected.”

  “Now, now. She’s gonna die if you make her deep dive right off the bat, and she’s gonna die of boredom if you make her play security guard, so—”

  “Lighthouse Five will take her,” the Fifth said stiffly. “She is not a trained combatant, period. She is a civilian. We cannot involve her in any dangerous activities, so if she desires, I can offer her a simple administrative job at my lighthouse until ‘Black Storm’ is lifted and she can return home. It will be a safe job, at the very least.”

  The Second glanced at the Fifth. “The girl sounds like a whack job with a thing for danger, Rei-Rei. She ain’t gonna like sittin’ at a desk.”

  “and your Imperators in Lighthouse Two are the whack jobs, Mari," the Fifth muttered. "And? What do the two of you think? Where should she go?”

  The First didn’t bother responding, and the Sixth… wasn’t here. A spinning chair was left in his wake, and everyone but Victor and the Imperatrix blinked. They started looking around for the man who’d left halfway through the meeting without making so much as a squeak.

  Victor had seen him leave, though. He’d even shot both Victor and the Imperatrix an acknowledging nod before disappearing through one of the windows.

  “Hah. Guess he got bored.” The Fourth chuckled, shaking her head in dismay. “So, Lighthouse One and Six don’t want her, but the rest of us do. We’ll duke it out, then. Get your arcana cards out. We’re playin’ basset until one of us gets three wins—”

  But then the Harbour Imperatrix stood up, making the entire room rattle, and the four Lighthouse Imperators who were busy pulling their decks of cards from their pockets froze where they sat.

  “... You were the one who ran out and dived in after her, weren’t you?” the Imperatrix rumbled, glaring at Victor with one ocean-blue eye. The other was sealed behind a black eyepatch made from the chitin of an Insect God, and it was etched with the pattern of a nine-headed serpent.

  Victor simply smiled and bowed halfway, one arm folded before his waist.

  “I was,” Victor said plainly, and he grinned under his full-body bandages as he looked up at the Imperatrix. “Dragging her into the city through ‘Black Storm’ took a few years off my life, but, man, I can’t say it wasn’t a hell of a thrill pushing through the storm.”

  “Where is she now?”

  “Well, it’s been a month since she killed the Mutant-Class, and… uh, a few things have happened.” Victor bowed again, rubbing the back of his neck. “We’re detaining her in a cell for now. She’s right in the lower city, so you wanna meet her or something?”

  The Imperatrix snorted, turning his back against the table as he faced the window on the opposite end of the room, overlooking the churning whirlpool in the crater of the volcano.

  “You’re the one who dived in and dragged her here, so you’ll take responsibility,” the Imperatrix said. “She has one of those things. An ‘Altered’ Symbiotic System. It’s only fitting for a Flower Cape to take care of another Flower Cape, isn’t it?”

  Victor chuckled as he pushed off against the window, picked up his walking cane, and headed out of the lantern room with every Imperators’ eyes on his back—he was used to being stared at as the only ‘Flower Cape’ stationed in the Whirlpool City, but he wondered, very briefly, if the girl he was going to visit would be able to endure the same sort of wary gazes.

  He hummed all the way down the spiralling stairs, his cane clacking against cold stone in a rhythmic one-two, one-two beat.