The storm came without warning, as they often did in the month of October. Hugo Barley had seen enough of them in his forty-three years to know when the sea was angry.
The waves rolled like mountains made of water, crashing against the wooden hull of his fishing boat with a fury that made his bones ache. Rain lashed at his face, cold and merciless, but Hugo kept his grip steady on the wheel.
He should have turned back an hour ago. Everyone else had. The village docks were probably packed with boats by now, their owners huddled inside their homes, praying the storm would pass before dawn. But Hugo wasn't heading back.
Through the sheets of rain and the howling wind, he could still see it. A small fishing boat, barely more than a skiff, being tossed around like a toy in a bathtub.
It had drifted too far from shore, and now the storm had it in its grip. Hugo squinted through the chaos and saw a figure clinging to the mast. Probably one of the new fishermen who thought they could brave anything the ocean threw at them.
Idiots, Hugo thought, but his hands were already turning the wheel toward the struggling boat. His own vessel groaned in protest as he pushed it harder against the waves.
Water poured over the sides, soaking through his old coat and filling his boots. The wind screamed in his ears, but Hugo had learned long ago to tune it out. The sea was loud, but it was also honest. It told you exactly what it wanted, and right now, it wanted to swallow that kid whole.
Hugo's boat lurched violently to the side as a massive wave crashed into it. He stumbled, catching himself on the railing, his knuckles white from the force of his grip.
His heart hammered in his chest, not from fear, but from the sheer effort of keeping the boat steady. He was too old for this. His body reminded him of that fact with every aching joint, and every strained muscle. But the kid out there was younger than his own son would have been, if he'd lived.
That thought alone kept Hugo moving. He maneuvered closer, shouting over the roar of the storm.
The young man looked up, eyes wide with terror and relief. Hugo threw a rope, watching as it fell short the first time, then the second. On the third throw, the kid caught it and tied it around his waist with shaking hands.
"Hold on!" Hugo bellowed, though he doubted the words carried far.
He began pulling the rope, hand over hand, dragging the kid through the churning water. His shoulders burned. His back screamed. But Hugo didn't stop.
The young man finally reached the side of Hugo's boat, and with the last reserves of his strength, Hugo hauled him up and over the railing. The kid collapsed onto the deck, coughing up seawater and gasping for air. Hugo allowed himself one breath of relief before turning back to the wheel.
That was when he saw it. A wall of water, taller than any he'd ever seen, rising up like the ocean itself had decided to stand. It blotted out the sky. It blotted out everything.
Hugo's body moved on instinct. He shoved the kid toward the cabin. "Get inside! Now!"
But there was no time. The wave came down with the weight of the world behind it, and Hugo Barley, fisherman of the small coastal village of Tidebreak, was swept away.
The cold hit him first. Then the pressure, crushing and absolute, as if the ocean wanted to press him into nothingness. Hugo tumbled through the dark water, unable to tell which way was up or down.
His lungs burned. His vision blurred. He reached out, grasping for something, anything, but there was only water.
He thought of his wife, gone these past ten years. He thought of his son, lost to fever when he was only eight. He thought of the sea, the only constant in his life, the thing that had given him everything and taken everything in return.
And then, there was nothing. Or so he thought.
...
...
Hugo opened his eyes to light. Not the harsh light of the sun, but something softer, more ethereal. It surrounded him, warm and endless, as if he were floating inside a star. There was no pain. No weight. Just the strange sensation of being suspended in a place that wasn't quite real.
A voice echoed through the emptiness, calm and vast, like the ocean itself had learned to speak. "Your dedication to the sea has been acknowledged."
"You are chosen as the next Fisher of Realms."
Hugo tried to speak, but no sound came out. His body felt distant, like it belonged to someone else. The light grew brighter, and then words began to appear before him, glowing and impossibly clear.
[System Activated: SSS-Ranked Fisherman System Initialized.]
[Analyzing user compatibility... 100%]
[Welcome, Hugo Barley. You have been selected as the first and only SSS-Ranked Fisherman.]
[Reincarnation process commencing...]
Hugo wanted to ask what was happening. He wanted to demand answers. But the light swallowed him whole, and the world dissolved into warmth.
When he opened his eyes again, he was lying on sand. Real sand, soft and white beneath his fingers. The air smelled of salt and something else, something sweeter, like flowers growing near the shore. Hugo sat up slowly, his body feeling strange.
He looked down at his hands. They were young. Smooth looking skin, no scars, and no calluses worn deep from years of working rope and net. He touched his face and felt firm muscle instead of the weathered lines he'd grown used to.
Panic flickered through him, but it was drowned out by confusion. He stood, legs steady despite the absurdity of it all, and looked around.
The ocean stretched before him, impossibly vast and shimmering under a sky painted in hues of gold and violet. Islands floated in the distance, suspended in the air like pieces of a broken world stitched back together by some unseen hand. The water beneath them glowed faintly, as if lit from below by something ancient and alive.
And then the voice returned, not from outside, but inside his head.
[Welcome to the Aqualis Realm, Hugo Barley.]
[Your new life begins now.]