The storm at Coordinates 404 wasn't just a weather phenomenon; it was the universe's rejection of anyone trying to enter without permission.
The sky above us was no longer black or gray, but bruised purple pulsing in rhythm with a dying giant's heartbeat. Lightning didn't strike from above downward, but crawled horizontally across clouds, forming fractal patterns suspiciously similar to burning motherboard circuits.
I gripped our small skiff's helm with white-knuckled fists. Cathedral-tall waves collapsed left and right, trying to swallow this rented boat whole.
"BOSS! THE MAP CRASHED!" Miri screamed from inside my robe pocket, voice nearly drowned by wind's roar.
I glanced down. The Living Chart spread across my lap had stopped moving. Its black ink clumped into the shape of a large, mocking question mark.
"It's hungry!" I yelled back, spitting out salt water that invaded my mouth. "It needs lie fuel!"
"Then lie to it! Quick!"
I took a long breath, filling my lungs with ozone and salt. Lying to an inanimate object in the middle of a potentially fatal storm was the pinnacle of my pathetic career.
"I LOVE PAYING TAXES!" I shouted at the map. "BUREAUCRACY IS THE HIGHEST ART FORM! I'VE NEVER STOLEN IN MY LIFE! BARNABY IS A HANDSOME AND GENEROUS MAN!"
The map trembled violently. Its black ink spread again enthusiastically, forming a new path splitting the whirlpool ahead. The lies I fed it were apparently delicious—especially the part about Barnaby.
"Right thirty degrees!" I commanded myself, turning the helm with all my strength.
The small skiff tilted sharply, hull creaking in protest as we surfed down a giant wave's back, dodging a black stone pillar jutting from the sea like an ocean god's middle finger.
Ahead of us, a wall of static fog loomed. This wasn't water fog. This was a magical Firewall.
I could feel Infinite Grimoire in my head buzzing, recognizing the fog's data structure. This was physical encryption code. Anyone touching it without authorization keys would be erased—not killed, but deleted.
"We're gonna crash into it!" Miri shrieked, covering her eyes with her paws.
"No," I said, eyes locked on the fog's flow patterns. "We're not crashing. We're logging in."
I reached into my pocket, pulling out the Admiral's invitation scroll. Its black ribbon whipped wildly.
"System! Identify Access Protocol!"
The paper scroll in my hand ignited with cold blue fire. The paper ash didn't blow away in the wind, but floated around our boat, forming a transparent hexagonal shield.
WHOOSH.
We pierced through the fog wall.
Storm sounds died instantly. Wind stopped howling. Waves became calm in an eyeblink.
The abrupt transition made my stomach lurch.
We were inside the 'Eye of the Storm'.
But what lay before us wasn't empty ocean.
It was Port 404.
A floating city built entirely from legendary shipwrecks stacked together. Golden galleons, iron warships, even giant leviathan skeletons lashed into one vertical structure soaring skyward, defying gravity and architectural logic.
Neon green mana crystal lamps flickered from tilted cabin windows. Dragon bone suspension bridges connected one ship sector to another. And at the tallest tower's peak—an ancient carrier wreck erected vertically—a black flag with a 'Glitch Skull' symbol fluttered lazily.
"Wow..." Miri poked her head out, purple eyes reflecting the city's neon glow. "This is the most beautiful junkyard I've ever seen."
"It's not a junkyard, Miri," I corrected, steering the skiff toward a dock made from ancient airplane wings. "This is a sanctuary for everything rejected by the system. Bug heaven."
Various strange creatures were active at the dock. There were golems made from rusty anchors, mermaids with mechanical legs, and humans whose bodies were partially transparent like ghosts that failed to render.
When our skiff touched the dock, three figures leaped down to intercept.
They weren't ordinary guards. They were Dredge Knights—ancient rusty diving armor moving on their own, hot steam hissing from their joints. In their hands, harpoon spears crackled with static electricity.
"Identify," a heavy, metallic voice echoed from within one knight's glass helmet.
I climbed off the boat, straightening my soaked robe. "Rax. Independent Consultant. I bring an invitation."
I raised the invitation scroll's ashes still spinning around my fingers.
The knight scanned the ash with a red beam from his helmet.
"Code Accepted. Registered Guest: The Prince's Nemesis. Threat Level: Moderate. Profit Potential: Not Yet Calculated."
They lowered their weapons.
"The Admiral awaits at The Apex. Don't stray from the path, or you'll be recycled into spare parts."
"How friendly," I muttered. "Miri, don't eat anything shiny here. It might be someone's heart."
The journey to Port 404's peak was a nightmare climb through chaotic maritime history. We rode a lift powered by a giant octopus inside a glass tube, passed a black market selling 'Bottled Storms' and 'Maps to Already-Found Treasure', until finally reaching the carrier deck at the tower's summit.
There, in a room whose walls were made of magic monitor screens displaying global stock market data, the Admiral sat.
He wasn't like pirates from fairy tales.
Admiral Vane was a skeletal old man wearing a navy admiral's suit, immaculate but faded. His skin was pale as paper.
But the most terrifying part was his left side.
Left arm, left leg, left eye—gone. Those body parts were replaced by... noise. Black-and-white static flickering constantly, continuously changing shape, as if reality in that body section had failed to load.
He was playing chess alone. His chess pieces were miniature living monsters eating each other.
"Rax," his voice sounded doubled—one old man's voice, one distorted digital voice. He didn't look up from his chess board. "The man who sold trash to Barnaby and insulted Prince Eldric publicly. I must admit, your portfolio is entertaining."
I stepped forward, maintaining safe distance from the strategy map-covered table. "I'm glad my entertainment satisfies, Admiral. But I came here for business, not a clown audition."
Vane moved a Knight piece shaped like a small Kraken. The Kraken ate an opponent's Pawn.
"Business," Vane chuckled softly. The static sound in his body grew louder. "Everyone comes here seeking protection, Rax. They run from law, from debt, from gods. You think you're a business partner? Right now, you're just a refugee with minor talent."
He finally looked up. His right human eye was sharp blue, cold as the ocean floor. His left glitched eye spun wildly, displaying random binary code.
"Why should I let you stay at my port?" he asked. "Why shouldn't I hand you to the Prince and collect 10,000 gold?"
Standard question. Value negotiation.
"Because 10,000 gold is pocket change to you," I replied calmly. "And because you have a problem that can't be solved with cannons or ghost fleets."
I pointed at his flickering left arm.
"That's not a war wound. That's Corruption. Your body data is being eaten by the system. You're an anomaly being slowly deleted. You need stability. You need someone who can manipulate concepts to hold back that corrosion."
Silence.
The Dredge Knight guards at the door tensed, ready to attack. Miri squeaked fearfully in my pocket.
Vane stared at me for a long time. Then a thin smile appeared on his face.
"Smart. And slightly impudent. I like it."
He stood. His glitched body parts hissed as he moved.
"You're right. I'm dying. This universe's system doesn't like my existence because I know too much about the 'Admins'. But before I die, I'm going to start a war that will topple their thrones."
Vane walked toward a large curtain behind his throne.
"But before I employ you, Cardsmith, I need to know whether you can truly turn 'Gods' into cards. Or if that's just empty reputation."
He pulled the curtain back.
Behind it stood a massive cylindrical glass tank reaching to the ceiling. The liquid inside was thick green, bubbling.
And floating in that liquid was a creature.
Not a sea monster. Humanoid. Three meters tall. Golden-scaled skin, four arms, and a serene face radiating an aura of majesty that hurt to look at. On its back were remnants of light wings forcibly severed.
A God.
A real God.
"Allow me to introduce," Vane said casually. "This is Aleron, Lesser God of Navigation and Stars. We caught him last week trying to manifest near the northern lighthouse. He was very arrogant, until we stuffed him in this giant pickle jar."
My mouth went dry. Catching small river gods was one thing. Catching a Navigation God? That was a different level of insanity.
"Is he... alive?" I asked.
"Half-alive. We're harvesting his energy to power Port 404's storm barrier. But his energy's unstable. He rebels. He tries to explode our reactor from within."
Vane turned, staring at me with his wildly spinning glitch eye.
"Your test is simple, Rax. Get in there. Turn him into a card. Stabilize his energy."
He tossed a blank card made of pitch-black metal (Void Metal) toward me.
"If you succeed, you get protection, access to my market network, and 10% shares in this operation. If you fail... well, Aleron needs a roommate in the jar."
I caught the card. Heavy. Cold.
Miri poked out from my pocket, staring at the God in the tank with horror. "Boss, that's too big. Boss's brain will melt if you get Backflow from a real god."
"Maybe," I muttered, staring at Aleron's face sleeping in stasis.
This was a trap. Vane knew this was dangerous. Navigation God held concepts of 'Absolute Direction' and 'Freedom'. If I failed to control it during fusion, my brain would be lost forever in a labyrinth with no exit.
But I had no choice. Out there were Prince Eldric and Silent Walkers. Here was a God in a jar.
At least the God in a jar wasn't carrying daggers.
"Open the tank," I ordered Vane.
Vane raised an eyebrow, impressed. He pressed a button on the control panel.
The glass shield hissed. A small access door opened. The aroma of pure ozone and ancient power burst out, making my knees wobble.
"You have five minutes before he fully awakens and turns your brain into star pulp," Vane warned.
I stepped forward. I pressed my palm to the God's golden skin surface.
Infinite Grimoire activated.
And for the first time, my System screamed.
[WARNING: TARGET ENTITY EXCEEDS SOUL BANDWIDTH]
[TARGET: Lesser God of Navigation (Divinity: Rank 4)]
[ESTIMATED BACKFLOW: CATASTROPHIC]
[PROCEED?]
"Boss!" Miri shouted.
"Quiet, Miri," I whispered, cold sweat soaking my back. "I need concentration."
I couldn't take his entire concept. That was suicide. I had to take a specific part. Something Vane needed. Stability.
I closed my eyes, diving into the ocean of the God's soul data. It felt like standing in the middle of a solar storm. Voices—sailors' prayers, maps of thousands of stars—all screaming in my head.
Find the crack. Find the flaw.
I found it. Fear. This God feared being forgotten. Feared no one would look at stars to find their way home anymore.
I grabbed that concept.
"EXTRACTION!" I shouted.
Golden chains launched from my entire body, not just my hands. They pierced Aleron's chest. The God opened his eyes. Eyes containing galaxies.
"WHO DARES BIND DIRECTION?!" his voice exploded in my mind, making my nose bleed instantly.
"I'm not binding you!" I shot back via telepathy, struggling to withstand waves of mental pressure. "I'm giving you a new form! Become a card, or remain a dead battery forever! Your choice!"
Negotiating with a God. Desperate move.
Aleron hesitated for a moment. And that hesitation was the crack I needed.
I pulled with all my strength. The giant body began glowing, fading, spiraling into the Void Metal card.
The floor shook. Monitor screens on walls exploded. Vane laughed maniacally watching the chaos.
BOOM!
White light consumed the room.
When my vision returned, I was gasping on the floor, blood dripping from nose and ears. In my hand, the card smoked hot.
[CARD CREATED: The Astral Lighthouse]
[Rank: Legendary (Artifact)]
[Effect: Creates absolute navigation zone within 100-mile radius. Stabilizes spatial anomalies. Allows user to perform short-distance "Warp" through star routes.]
[Side Effect: ACTIVE]
I'd succeeded.
But then, the Backflow came.
Not sadness or arrogance.
Suddenly, I knew where North was. I knew where every star in the sky was, even during daytime. I knew the coordinates of every dust particle in this room.
And I felt an irresistible urge to... command.
I stood slowly. My eyes glowed golden.
Admiral Vane stared at me, smile vanishing. He saw something in my eyes that made him—a half-glitch monster—take a step back.
"Report," I said. My voice wasn't mine. It was the absolute authority voice of a captain holding the universe's map.
"Rax?" Miri asked worriedly.
I looked at Vane, then at Port 404 outside the window.
"This city structure is inefficient," I said coldly, Divine Navigation concept taking over. "We must move the West sector four degrees north for mana flow optimization. And Vane... your tie is crooked."
Vane paused for a moment, then burst into roaring laughter until his static sound deafened ears.
"Magnificent!" he exclaimed, clapping with his one hand. "You didn't just make a card—you absorbed his ego! Welcome to the crew, Rax. You've just been promoted to Chief Navigator."
I collapsed sitting as the peak effect faded, returning to tired, headache-stricken Rax.
"Salary..." I gasped, pointing at Vane with a trembling finger. "Salary must be paid upfront. And I want a room that doesn't sway."
Vane grinned. "Certainly. But be careful, Navigator. Here, the shaking doesn't come from waves. But from what we'll awaken next."
He pointed to his strategy map. To a black dot in the middle of an ocean far deeper and darker than this place.
"The next target isn't a Lesser God, Rax. The next target is The Kraken Bank. The central bank of sea monsters. And we're going to rob it."
I closed my eyes, letting darkness take me before I could refuse that insane idea.
One thing was certain: My life would never be peaceful again.