The Sea Race, over the centuries, became an increasingly vague memory to the surface peoples.
Humans, especially, who rarely lived beyond eighty years, ended up treating those who lived in the depths as legends or sailors' rumors.
This was no surprise. More than four hundred years had passed since their last large-scale appearance.
And even during the Laplace War, their actions were limited. Most of the sea peoples confined themselves to preventing navigation and launching occasional attacks against vessels.
They rarely fought land battles. There were, of course, some races capable of fighting out of the water, but their activity was always discreet.
This peaceful stance was due to one man, who bore the epithet Balord of Thick Fat, one of the oldest and most respected rulers of the sea.
Balord belonged to the race of the Whale-Men.
They said he had lived for thousands of years and had even witnessed the formation of the Ringus Sea during the Second Human-Demon War. His philosophy had always been peace and prosperity for the marine races.
After the end of the Laplace War, Balord finally realized his great objective.
He summoned the chiefs of the main maritime tribes and negotiated directly with the Seven Heroes of the time.
The result was the Non-Interference Treaty, a pact that established the neutrality of the ocean amid the wars that ravaged the land.
Balord wanted the Sea Race to be like the Celestial Race, which, from the high mountains, remained neutral despite the world's conflicts.
And, surprisingly, he succeeded. For centuries, the depths remained calm, removed from the politics of humans, demons and other peoples.
But that stability began to shake in recent years, with the death of the Lord of Storms, Zeroth — the colossal Kraken that Rygar had defeated only to test the extent of his powers.
Zeroth was considered one of the Guardian Beasts of the sea peoples, worshiped by many tribes as a protective deity.
His death was terrible news for the entire Race, received with sorrow and outrage.
---
In the submerged depths of the Ringus Sea, whole cities rose, adapted to the most diverse forms of life.
Coral palaces, tunnels carved into titanic shells, houses of stone smoothed by currents, air pockets sustained by magic — an entire ecosystem, shaped to shelter hundreds of races.
There were the Sirenids, in greatest number; the Octopus-Men, known for their cunning; the Whale-Men, holders of prodigious strength; the Crab-Men, with indestructible carapaces; and the Superior Sirens, a race formed only by women, beautiful and feared, who had an incomparable magical song and were capable of manipulating water.
Beyond these, countless hybrids flourished, just as in the Demon Race. And, like the demons, their innate abilities and magics were as strange and random as possible.
All, however, still respected the Treaty. And so, for centuries, the ocean remained relatively peaceful.
There were monsters, there were disputes and small conflicts, but nothing that mobilized the entire Sea Race.
Until, as every ten years, the time for the Great Meeting of the Tribes arrived again. This time the atmosphere was different.
Zeroth's death was the center of attention. For many, it was an insult, an unforgivable affront, a direct breach of the Treaty by the surface.
Some were sad, others furious. Balord, the Lord of the Whale-Men and supreme leader, sought to calm tempers.
He declared that he would again contact Perugius Dola, the only one of the original Seven Heroes still alive, and therefore the only one who could answer for humanity's actions.
This had happened before, in other times.
And on those occasions, it was the Armored Dragon King himself who resolved the problems, personally, either by talking to the aggressors or eliminating them. He also compensated them with the attacker's treasures.
Everything indicated it would be so again, just one more incident handled by diplomacy.
But then, in the middle of the assembly, the voice of Mandrake Ocluno rose, leader of the Octopus-Men tribe.
He was known not only for his cunning and intelligence, but also for his fervent faith. He was one of the most devout priests of the religion surrounding Zeroth.
His suggestion fell like a bomb in the submerged hall:
"Let us summon our other Guardian Beast… Esterópes. Let us avenge Zeroth's death! Let the Beast God prove the weight of our fury! Let us gut the Sacred Beast of the Great Forest, and let all surface beings fear the power of the Sea Race!"
For a moment, everyone was silent. But soon, chaos broke out.
Many protested, calling the idea madness. Esterópes had not even participated in the Laplace War.
To invoke him now would be the same as declaring total war against the surface. This would bring mutual destruction upon them.
Still, a few voices rose in support. The anger over Zeroth's death was still very fresh.
In the end, the majority voted against. Mandrake, though resentful, bowed his head in silence. He was not foolish enough to rebel against the collective decision.
In his view, the will of the Race as a whole should always prevail over that of the individual.
But inside, he still burned with rage and thirst for vengeance.
And then, on some night, while he slept in his sanctuary, an unexpected visitor descended into his dreams.
A nebulous, smiling figure who introduced himself as the God-Man.
Mandrake Ocluno was very old by his race's standard.
Among the Octopus-Men, few managed to live beyond forty or fifty years, but he was a rare variant, a Mimic-Octopus.
He was already sixty years old, and believed he could still live another ten or twenty years.
From his predecessor he inherited not only the tribe's leadership, but also the ancient traditional rites.
He had learned early that the Lord of Storms, Zeroth, was the true protector of the depths.
The one who kept natural disasters away, who maintained the harmony of the currents, who watched over the underwater realms since time immemorial.
For Mandrake, life without war had always been sustained by devotion to his God.
When Zeroth fell at the hands of a surface warrior, the whole purpose of his existence was wounded.
That is why the words of the strange God were so effective.
"If you desire vengeance… go to the submerged ruins of the Galeon Kingdom. There you will find the instrument to achieve your goal."
Even though it was effective, Mandrake dismissed it as delirium for a long time. The decision had already been made in the council; it was not up to him alone to decide.
But then the last straw came.
News spread that Zeroth's carcass, the corpse of their God, was being desecrated by the surface.
They were using the Lord of Storms' flesh, bones, even his tentacles as research material. Heresy.
Inflamed with rage, and remembering the words from his dreams, Mandrake made his decision.
He swam to the indicated ruins, an ancient submerged city swallowed by currents and covered in algae.
There, among the debris, he found an object.
It looked like a flute made of bone, with white runes that still glowed faintly in the dark.
That night, the God-Man returned to him in dreams.
"This is the Whale Charming Flute. With it, you can take the leadership that Balord so wastes. He fears war, he fears conflict, but you… you can bring the just vengeance that the Sea Race deserves."
Mandrake didn't care about that God's hidden intentions.
He did not worry about the manipulation behind those words. What mattered was simple. Vengeance. Justice. Retribution.
Still, he hesitated. Balord had always been respected, a wise leader, perhaps even too kind. Before using the flute, Mandrake decided to have one last conversation with him.
He went to the submerged palaces of the Lord of the Whale-Men.
Before Balord, he exposed his pain. He spoke of the profanation of Zeroth's corpse, of the need for an immediate response, of the insult of allowing such crimes to go unpunished.
Balord listened in silence, his small black eyes fixed.
And then answered with the same calm that had always characterized him:
"We cannot allow hatred to dictate our path. I will contact Perugius Dola. He still answers for the Seven Heroes. We will resolve this without conflict."
Those words were like knives through Mandrake's heart.
Perugius had not even been contacted yet. Nothing had been done since the news of the death!
While Zeroth's corpse was being torn apart, Balord still preached patience. Still sought diplomacy.
Mandrake exploded in fury.
"You are a coward! A traitor to the memory of the Lord of Storms!"
And then, without further hesitation, he brought the Flute to his lips.
The pacifist Balord was now only a puppet in Mandrake's hands.
From that moment on, everything proceeded according to the Mimic-Octopus's desire.
Guided by the venomous counsel of the Man God, Mandrake began to quietly eliminate all who opposed him.
Those who doubted the path of vengeance were systematically removed. The others, intimidated or convinced, joined.
With Balord under his control, Mandrake gained access to secrets that only the Lord of the Whale-Men knew.
Among them, the method to communicate with Esterópes, the One-Eyed Giant.
And so, step by step, tribe by tribe, the Sea Race unified around a common objective: vengeance against the newly formed Kingdom of Gaia.
The war that Balord had avoided for centuries was now inevitable under the sound of an ancient flute and the whispered words of a treacherous God.
----
But such a dictatorial government did not lack opposition.
In a stone palace hidden among multicolored coral formations, away from Mandrake and his subjects' eyes, a small group gathered.
They were the last who still dared to question the course taken by the Sea Race.
Sitting at the head of a table carved from white shells was Lusarina, leader of the Superior Sirens tribe.
Her hair was long and light blue; it floated behind her because of the sea currents. There was a translucent veil hiding half of her face.
Around her were three unlikely allies: Jogord, Balord's eldest son and heir of the Whale lineage; Ku, the strongest warrior of the Crab-Men Race; and Psiskar, a half-human half-Sea Spider, a priest devoted to the One-Eyed Giant, Esterópes.
Lusarina was the first to speak. Even without chanting her magical song, there was something enchanting that naturally held the attention of any man who heard her.
However, there, no one had a will so weak as to be carried away.
"So… if we are already certain that your father is under Mandrake's control, how can we dispel the spell that imprisons him? Not even my charming song was able to break whatever it is that binds him."
Jogord, a man resembling a humanoid Whale, crossed his arms, his voice sounding deep.
"Once… my father mentioned an artifact. Something our tribe used to control the monstrous Whales that wandered the deepest seas. But that item was lost long ago."
He furrowed his brow. "I suspect Mandrake may have found that artifact."
Ku, the Crab warrior, snorted in disgust. Unlike others, his body was more hybrid, upper half humanoid and lower half crustacean.
"Then the solution is simple. We just need to take that artifact from Mandrake. He may be cunning, but he is nowhere near strong enough to lead the Sea Race. Even I alone can overthrow him."
Psiskar, the spider priest, shook his eight arachnid legs with restlessness.
Like Ku, the upper part of his body resembled that of a human, but from his abdomen downwards he was like a sea spider, with thin legs covered by membranes.
"That's impossible, Mandrake no longer parts from the Guardian Beast. He knows the greater threat is you, Jogord, since you are Balord's heir. For that reason, he keeps himself protected. A frontal attack is suicide."
There was a brief, tense silence, and then Lusarina raised her gaze and said delicately:
"What if I can use my song against him… even from a distance? Perhaps then we can defeat him without fighting."
Jogord leaned forward, pondering.
"That might wor—"
Suddenly, the ground — or rather, the coral and stone supporting the palace — shook violently.
The sound reverberated throughout the chamber, interrupting their speech. In an instant, everyone stood, instinctively taking up their weapons.
"What was that…?" Lusarina whispered, her eyes wide.
No answer came immediately. Ku spun his trident, preparing to leave.
"I'll take a lo—"
BOOOOOOMMMMM!
The entire sea exploded in light.
A yellowish bolt, of a burned, pale brightness, pierced the palace like a divine cannon.
The whole coral formation collapsed in an instant, crushed and incinerated by the incomprehensible power of that discharge.
The waters boiled, the heat of the bolt was so intense that steam rose in all directions.
And then, silence.
When the light ceased, nothing remained but rubble. Rocks were reduced to dust, and the sea covered everything again, as if trying to erase the traces of destruction.
Among the devastation, three figures emerged, all in critical condition.
Jogord survived only by the thick layer of fat inherited from his race. But his skin was burned, flesh exposed, and he could barely move.
Ku, with superhuman reflexes, had used his carapace to protect Lusarina at the last moment, but was also severely injured, his body cracked in multiple places.
As for Psiskar… the priest had not had the same luck. Even without being hit directly, the mere residual impact of the flash of light disintegrated him, reducing him to dust in the sea.
It was merely collateral damage.
If that bolt had hit them directly, there would not have been so much as dust left of any of them.
A laugh echoed, distorted by the waters, reverberating cruelly.
"Kukukuku! Exactly as he told me!" the voice carried triumph and madness.
"How dare you conspire against your leader in this way? Even you, son of my great friend Balord! I have no choice but to condemn you here and now!"
Jogord, even with blurred eyes and his body burning in pain, raised his head.
His blurred vision focused on a colossal silhouette in the distance. Rising over the vastness of the coral was a monumental giant.
The sea around him seemed insignificant.
The depth there reached sixty meters, but the water barely passed his knees. His presence was enormous and overwhelming.
And more or less on the creature's shoulder, he thought he had seen Mandrake. He had come to cut off the loose ends.
-----
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