Chapter 512: BONUS Chapter: A Dream?
The deck was calmer than usual today.
The waves seemed calm and the hearts of those upon Gwendolyn seemed even calmer as there had been no monsters to keep an eye out for in a while.
There was just the sway of the ship against the water and the creak of magical lumber instead.
For once, nobody seemed in a rush.
Steve lounged on a stack of cargo crates with a mug in hand, trying to balance it on his forehead without spilling. Haru crouched nearby, tail swishing, utterly absorbed in cheering him on.
"Careful... careful... tilt your head back a little more—"
The mug tipped sideways and doused Steve in whatever cheap brew had been left behind.
Haru howled with laughter, pounding his fists against the wood until his ears flattened back against his hair. "Pffft—You look like a drowned rat!"
Steve shook himself off like a dog, drops flying everywhere. "That’s it. I’m throwing you overboard."
"You wouldn’t dare," Haru grinned, baring his fangs. "The boss likes me too much."
"Boss likes me more." Steve jabbed a thumb at his chest.
Cain had been leaning against the railing, half-listening, half-drifting into his own thoughts. But he smirked faintly at the claim. "That’s not saying much."
Both of them froze. Then Haru burst into laughter again, while Steve pretended to be mortally wounded. "Et tu, Cain?"
Cain shook his head. "If you two put this much energy into fighting, we’d have conquered the seas by now."
Hunter walked by carrying a stack of maps under his arm. He barely glanced at the scene before muttering, "Idiots," and disappearing below deck.
"That’s his way of saying he loves us," Steve whispered dramatically, hand over his heart.
Haru giggled again, and for once, Cain didn’t bother hiding his amusement.
Their noise was grating, yes, but there was something about it that made the silence around them softer, less suffocating. He let himself lean against the railing and simply listen.
---
By midafternoon, the deck had turned into a hive of low-stakes chaos. Someone had dragged out a battered drum and was pounding out an uneven rhythm, which two younger Beastmen tried to dance to while the others heckled them. A rope was being used as a makeshift tug-of-war near the bow. Children darted underfoot, laughing as they played chase, weaving between sailors who pretended to scold them but couldn’t keep their smiles hidden.
Cain found himself sitting cross-legged by a stack of barrels, watching Haru attempt to teach Steve how to sharpen a blade properly.
"No, no, you’re doing it wrong," Haru insisted, ears twitching in agitation. "It’s angle, not pressure! You’ll ruin the edge if you press too hard."
Steve squinted at the whetstone as if it were some kind of puzzle box. "I’ve been killing things just fine with dull weapons. Maybe it’s my style."
"That’s not a style, that’s stupidity!" Haru snatched the blade away and demonstrated, his hands a blur of confident, practiced motion. The steel sang faintly against the stone. "See? Smooth, even. You respect the weapon, the weapon respects you."
Cain couldn’t help himself. "You sound like a blacksmith’s sermon."
"Someone has to educate him," Haru said primly, ears flicking upright.
Steve slouched against a barrel, unimpressed. "Pretty sure weapons don’t care if I respect them. They just care if I stab fast enough."
Cain chuckled. He hadn’t realized how much he missed this—banter that didn’t end in blood, small arguments that didn’t matter, laughter that came from something other than surviving.
---
As evening approached, the air shifted. The crew grew restless, talk of food and drink buzzing across the deck. Someone had raided the ship’s stores, and soon rough wooden tables were dragged out and lined with mismatched dishes—salted fish, roasted tubers, baskets of hard bread softened with oil. It wasn’t luxury, but compared to what they’d been living on, it was a feast.
Cain joined them almost reluctantly, sitting at the far end of a table while the others packed in around him. Steve filled his plate until it nearly collapsed under the weight. Haru piled food with the shameless speed of someone who feared it might vanish.
The air was warm with voices. People argued over nothing—whose turn it was to wash dishes, which island had the worst storms, who snored loudest in the bunks. Cups clinked. Someone started singing badly. The laughter rolled like waves.
Cain found himself smiling again, though it felt strange on his face.
At one point, Haru leaned across the table, cheeks stuffed full of bread. "Boss, boss—what’s the worst thing you’ve ever eaten?"
Cain raised a brow. "What kind of question is that?"
"A serious one," Haru insisted, spraying crumbs. "Come on. Everyone’s got a story."
Steve smirked. "I once ate something that fought back. Still had teeth."
The table erupted into groans and laughter.
Cain thought for a moment, then shrugged. "Rotten meat. During training."
"On purpose?"
He nodded. "It was a lesson. To adapt."
The table went quiet for half a second before Haru burst out laughing again. "That’s horrible!"
Cain chuckled. "You asked."
---
As night fell, lanterns were lit and strung up across the rigging. Shadows swayed with the light, painting the deck in flickers of gold. Someone had brought out a set of dice, and soon a small crowd was roaring over each throw.
Cain sat slightly apart, leaning back on his hands, watching the others lose themselves to the noise. Hunter had reappeared, dragged reluctantly into a drinking contest he looked determined to win through sheer spite. Steve was slamming his fist against the table every time his dice betrayed him. Haru darted between groups, talking too fast, laughing too loud, his tail never still.
Cain let out a long breath.
For once, nobody was afraid. Nobody was bleeding. Nobody was counting how many arrows they had left or how close death was pressing against their backs.
It was nothing. Just a night of pointless joy. But in its own way, it was everything.
---
Later, when most had stumbled off to their bunks or fallen asleep on the deck itself, Cain remained by the railing. The sea stretched endless and dark, the horizon barely a smudge against the stars. The ship creaked softly under his feet.
Steve wandered up beside him, still unsteady from drink, though his eyes were clearer than his voice suggested. "Not bad, huh?"
Cain glanced at him. "What isn’t?"
"The night. The food. The... people, I guess." Steve leaned on the railing, squinting out at the water. "Feels like the kind of thing we don’t get twice."
Cain hummed in agreement.
For a moment, silence settled comfortably between them.
Then Steve chuckled. "You’re different, you know. Can’t say how. Just... different."
Cain said nothing. He only watched the horizon.
Behind them, Haru’s voice carried across the deck even in sleep. He’d collapsed near the crates, tail twitching, muttering nonsense in his dreams.
Cain allowed himself a final, quiet smile.
Tomorrow would bring weight again. Tomorrow, the knife’s edge would return.
But tonight...
Tonight belonged to—
Cain woke up.
