Finishing up his morning meal, or whatever time it was, as difficult as it was to tell so far beneath the surface of the sea, he began to explore the temple. He didn't know where Bastian was staying, though he presumed it was in the same sector he was staying as a guest.
"--"
Without much sense of direction guiding him, he found his way to the courtyard of the Cerulean Keep, which stood outside of it, near the entrance he originally arrived at; there he could see the scenery of the deep-blue ocean around him.
He could visibly see the barrier that stood around the remaining bastian of the fallen kingdom; the translucent, dome-shaped protection that kept the water at bay.
'Atlans can live just fine in the water, right? It seems weird to me that they'd build a barrier like this…unless that prophecy about reincarnators was something they were already aware of,' he thought.
As he walked past the front arch of the keep, entering the walkway that was neighbored only by the ocean's floor; sand that was inhabited by seagrass and coral, he watched as schools of fish swam by in the distance, not touching the barrier.
What caught his eyes was what was ahead in the near distance, still kept within the barrier: old, decrepit homes unattached to the keep. Slowly approaching, he found himself in an abandoned community, walking past coral trees of varying colors–azure, ruby, and even emerald shades–though there was no sign of life.
'What's this?...Are these the homes of the Atlan people? Or, I guess…what used to be their homes,' he realized.
The cottages were made out of clay of a dark-red shade, made into square shapes without much variance between them. For some reason, everything looked burnt; the sand was charred along with the homes, and salt crystalised the old cottages more-and-more as he went further.
"--"
Stopping in front of a clay house, he found it to be entirely encased in solidified salt, smelling of it even from the couple of meters he stood away from the lost cottage. The sand he thought he walked on wasn't so; it, too, was salt.
'More salt…I get that there's a lot of salt in the ocean, but this is too extreme,' he thought.
As he stepped up the crystalized steps of the home in front of him out of curiosity, he stopped as he sensed a shift in the air.
FWOOM
With picture-perfect timing, he raised his arm, conjuring a shield of stone in front of himself as something had leapt out from within the salt-encased home of the lost, undersea community. Finding himself pushed back, he spun around before planting his boot against the figure's chest knocking them back.
'What was that? This is an oxygen zone…it couldn't be a shark or anything,' he questioned.
As he looked over at the assailant that was knocked against the walls of the salt home, he found it to be a humanoid, fishy being; an Atlan. The bipedal figure had the head of a catfish, with long whiskers and a burly body of light-brown skin, though there was something off about them.
The body of the growling Atlan was covered in crystallization of salt, embedded into their skin and jutting out in spiky shapes at certain points.
'They're encased in salt…' He thought.
"Hey! I'm not an intruder–I'm a guest to your king!" Emilio shouted, "Stand down!"
Though he tried to give a warning, it was clear that the whiskered Atlan wasn't one for conversation; it picked itself up from the ground while growling like a dog, pounding its fists against the ground in anger before jumping to its feet.
"Raaaagh…!" The salt-encased Atlan roared.
Emilio begrudgingly readied himself, "...Yeah, I expected this result."
He chose not to remove his sword from its sheath, readying himself as he laid his eyes on the salty berserker.
'Killing this one isn't an option. While it seems too far gone, it's still a citizen of the Atlan kingdom. I'll just capture them and bring them back to the keep,' he planned.
While standing his ground, the feet of the catfish humanoid pressed off of the clay floor, dashing towards the man as Emilio stood in wait.
"Graaaaa–!"
The berserk Atlan threw its spiky arm forward in an attempt to either bludgeon or pierce the man, though Emilio swiftly ducked under the blow, finding it to be quite slow and predictable. In that moment, with the raging figure completely open to him, he manifested the teachings of his close friend and former mentor.
'...Don't harm it. Don't harm it. I will not hurt it,' he repeated in his mind.
Being completely surrounded by a boundless, vast sea beyond the barrier, conjuring a focus of water was never made easier as he held his hand close to the salt-encrusted Atlan's body, invoking the unique spell through his own state of mind:
'Benevolence of Undyne: Tranquil Plain,' he invoked.
Peaceful bubbles emerged from his mana, translucent and gently floating over to the berserker's body, surrounding it.
"Raaa…Grhh…" The Atlan grumbled, swaying and stepping back as each pop of the mystical bubbles made its movements more groggy, and its eyes more droopy.
"Take a nap for me," Emilio calmly said.
Just like that, the abnormal figure fell backward with a heavy thud, quickly snoring as Emilio let out a sigh, scratching his head.
'Why do I have the feeling I'm stumbling into things better left unknown,' he thought.
Before picking up the burly Atlanean, he conjured rope made out of stone, bending and weaving it with a quick circular motion of his finger.
"Brigado."
Invoking the six-pointed seal on his hand, he manifested the intended spirit: a tall, velvet armored figure, completely dressed in his sturdy equipment with a warhammer in one hand, and a shield in the other.
"--Sssss–," steam exhaled from the visor of the large knight, who stood in subservience to the man.
"Can you carry him for me?" Emilio requested.
With a nod, the silent, soulbound knight placed his weapons away in the Astral Realm before casually hoisting the bound Atlanean over his shoulder with one hand. Walking through the charred, salted neighborhood, he was a lot more cautious as he kept his guard raised.
THUD. THUD. THUD.
The heavy steps of the wordless knight repeated behind him as he led the way for the Soulbound spirit. Glancing back, he made sure the captured figure was still asleep; the salt-skinned Atlanean was still snoring while hoisted on the shoulder of Brigado.
As he approached the front doors of the Cerulean Keep, there was already somebody waiting in front of it: the shark-headed butler, who looked towards him with a stern expression.
"I will have to ask you not to bring that thing any closer," Consurge urged.
"'Thing'?" Emilio repeated.
Though he was confused for a moment, thinking that the butler was referring to his Soulbound spirit, he realized by the direction of the hammer-headed butler's gaze that those words were aimed towards the captured figure.
Consurge spoke further, "Yes–we mustn't allow the "Brined Ones" to tarnish these sacred grounds. I'd suggest you'd carry the same caution, lest you'd like to end up with the same condition as that thing."
"What?" Emilio raised an eyebrow.
The butler clarified, "It will be easier to handle this myself, I see. Step aside, please."
Unknowing of what the request would lead to, the man stepped aside just as Consurge raised one of his small hands, conjuring a spear forged out of aqua. The aquatic projectile launched forth with pinpoint precision, piercing straight through the head of the bound, salt-covered figure.
After the head of the salty Atlanean was destroyed, the stalwart knight silently dropped the slain figure onto the sand.
"Hey–isn't that one of your own kin?!" Emilio asked, "Why'd you kill him?"
Consurge looked at him, "There was no saving that one. Once you have contracted the Foul Brine, that's the only fate that awaits you."
"The 'Foul Brine'? Are you talking about the salt that's everywhere?" Emilio asked, looking back.
Before receiving an answer, he was gestured by the butler to follow him back inside of the Cerulean Keep. Hesitantly, he followed along, allowing Brigado to disappear as the unique halls were once more entered.
Consurge silently looked back at him before breathing out, "I suppose it's no use trying to avoid telling you. Yes; the salt that you see, infesting this kingdom, is the 'Foul Bine'--a scourge that hunts the remnants of our people."
"Why would you hide something like that? If it's dangerous, you're putting lives at risk by withholding that kind of information," Emilio asked.
"I understand your doubts. However, the Foul Brine is still a mystery to us–what little information we have is only partial truths; any information we could give has the potentiality of being false. Do you understand?" Consurge explained.
"You're saying it's riskier to potentially give me false information, then?" Emilio posed his question while watching the butler carefully.
The butler responded without looking at him, "Precisely so."
While the logic was partially understandable, it didn't change the fact that it seemed lopsided in weighing the risks; there was undoubtedly an ulterior motive to withholding the information–that much, he was sure of.
"How does it spread? The way you described it, it sounds like a spreading plague," Emilio asked, following the butler through the cerulean halls.
"If you have questions, I can show you to somebody who can answer them," Consurge told him.
"Alright, lead the way."
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