Shadowed Gaze: The Highserk War Saga - Chapter 107

Through the night, the work continued tirelessly. The Sahagin corpses were removed, and the grime that clung throughout the ship was washed away. In the end, Walm found himself providing water not just for the passengers, but for the entire ship. He had somewhat expected this outcome. After all, the Sea Mages and Magic Users had exhausted their magic powers during the battle, and the ship’s water situation was dire. When offered a reward, Walm couldn’t refuse.

Repairs to the yard and the salting of the Kraken continued even after a day had passed. The sheer size of the Kraken demanded a substantial amount of salt, straining the Sea Mages as they drained their magic powers to produce it. The yard, being a heavy object constantly influenced by the wind, required high-altitude work that couldn’t be completed in a day, even for emergency repairs.

Despite the makeshift appearance, the ship’s outer walls and deck had regained functionality. Everyone was exhausted and plagued by drowsiness, yet no one yawned or complained. On the contrary, all work had ceased, and with only the minimum necessary personnel remaining, everyone had gathered on the upper deck.

“They were true sailors who sacrificed their lives to protect their comrades, the passengers, and the ship. Their heroic deeds will never be forgotten, etched into memory for eternity,”

said Captain Berim Beggar, the leader of the large merchant vessel, standing beside the now-silent crew members. The attack by the Kraken and the Sahagin had resulted in 14 dead and over 20 injured. Given the monsters’ threat level, the casualties were relatively low. However, seeing the deceased lined up before them, who could rejoice in the low numbers? Naturally, it was impossible to transport their decomposing bodies to land.

“Let us humbly yet grandly send them off on their new journey.”

Those assembled on the deck were attending the funeral. Their usually boisterous mouths were tightly shut, and they wept softly before the remains of their friends. At a signal from Beggar, a trumpet sounded, and the attendees began to sing in unison.

Their voices, hoarse from alcohol, out of tune, and cracked from crying, were offerings to the dead, a requiem sending off those who had joined all the great sailors of the past. They had no crematorium or burial ground. Their bodies were returned to the sea, where they had spent most of their lives. They went down the makeshift ramp and sank into the water, each body weighed down with ballast and rum.

One by one, the bodies began their journey into the sea. The funeral song did not stop. The sailors’ voices, rough and far from beautiful, resonated deeply with Walm. Though it was tragic and sorrowful that they had died, Walm couldn’t help but feel envy and admiration for them.

“I must seem pathetic and disgraceful,”

he thought. Their bodies were handled with care, their comrades mourned them, and they were sung to and sent off with emotion. This was the life of a sailor. Instead of merely discarding their bodies into the sea, precious time was spent sending them off. This was why they fought and laid down their lives without hesitation in the battle.

But what about Walm? He continued fighting without time to mourn his fallen comrades, and then lost more. The faces of those he couldn’t save kept resurfacing. He couldn’t forget the girl whose promise he couldn’t keep, his friends in battle, and the sight of his homeland in flames. The only solace was that he had given his father, mother, and village comrades a second death by his own hand. Yet, it was far from enough. He hadn’t even buried them properly; what good had it done?

Clenching his teeth hard enough to break them, Walm interrupted his thoughts. He had to stop. This was their moment. Those who risked their lives, protected, saved, and were deservedly mourned and honored. This shouldn’t be a place for him to comfort his foolish and disgraceful self. If he did, it would be an insult to them. Even if the remaining sailors took action against him, he wouldn’t have any complaints.

Walm quietly joined his hands in prayer, despite not having faith, and despite his hands being stained with so much blood—he had to pray for the great sailors who had accomplished their mission and passed away.

The last body was released into the sea, marking the end of the sea burial. The trumpet’s sound lingered in Walm’s ears. The deck chief, usually so noisy, left the sobbing sailors undisturbed. A sailor with broken legs continued calling out to his sinking comrades, but Walm had no desire to listen.

Reality, however, moved on. Those remaining on deck reluctantly left and returned to their work. Ultimately, Walm, who had no magic power left and no assigned tasks, was the last one remaining. He stood dazed, staring at the sea where they had disappeared.

He should have been tired of the sea by now. Yet, for some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off it. The waves continued to roll in, shaking the surface as if oblivious to human concerns. Looking up, clouds drifted by sporadically. A seabird perched on the mast looked down at Walm. Some birds pecked at the Sahagin bodies and Kraken parts discarded in the sea. Someone approached Walm.

“Hmm? What is it, Sarshef?”

Walm, unable to muster a witty remark for the Sea Mage who was mourning his lost comrades, simply faced him.

“Walm, thank you for praying for my friends.”

A pain shot through his chest and deep into his eyes. Sarshef must have been referring to Walm joining his hands in prayer. It wasn’t anything noble. He was just trying to cover up his own disgrace.

“It wasn’t much of a prayer.”

“I don’t know what happened, but don’t belittle yourself. Everyone appreciates you, even those who have passed.”

“Yeah, I hope so.”

“Walm, join me. I’ve been dismissed, having run out of magic power and strength.”

Sarshef pulled out three bottles of rum, poured one into the sea, and handed one of the remaining two to Walm. Without protest, Walm took the bottle and raised it.

“To the sailors who have departed.”

“Yes, to their bravery.”

They both simultaneously tilted their bottles back, letting the rum flow down their throats and settle in their stomachs. The rum Walm had first tasted at the port, a mix of sweetness and bitterness, now felt only bitter.

Translator – Lyxxna