Chapter 81 ‒ The Storm’s Doctrine
The manatee hybrid in front of Tyler raised a flipper-like hand, his round face beaming with a Byros’s small, dark eyes lit up. “Please, follow to our temple,” he said, gliding away without waiting for a response.
Tyler followed, passing coral archways and luminous kelp that twisted and drifted like silk banners. The temple itself lood before him, carved from giant seashells and encrusted with shimring pearls. Azure banners bearing a coiled dragon symbol hung from the pillars, and the floor was lined with mosaics of crashing waves and lightning strikes.
Inside, figures in azure robes and tall, pointed hats moved silently, their movents fluid and ceremonial. The entire air humd with a sense of reverence and sothing darker — a hushed fanaticism that prickled at Tyler’s skin.
At the centre stood a towering shark hybrid clad in deep blue robes, his sharp gaze fixed directly on Tyler.
“Greetings, [Player]. I am Maelvaris,” the shark said, his voice deep and echoing like thunder in a cavern. “We are the mbers of the Storm Cult.”
Tyler frowned. “Storm Cult, as in the storm wizards who—”
Maelvaris raised a hand sharply. “No,” he cut in, his tone cold and regal. “We are not those treacherous land-crawlers. We worship the God of the Stormy Seas and do not tread the cursed land. Those impostors have stolen our sacred na to serve their false, destructive deity.”
Tyler rembered what Yandeon had told him — that Shindeon’s entire existence was to bring ruin, to reduce the world to ashes. Tyler felt the truth of that echoing now in Maelvaris’s voice.
“Are you referring to Shindeon? I have already defeated him,” Tyler said.
Maelvaris’s eyes widened before he let out a thunderous laugh that vibrated through the chamber. “Oh, [Player], you jest so boldly! You may wield power, but to claim you have vanquished that calamity? Childish arrogance.”
Tyler stood firm. “It was a weaker shell, but yes, I defeated it. And I intend to confront the Primordial Beast hidden in the Abyssal Tides next.”
“Silence!” Maelvaris’s roar sent water quaking. “How dare you speak of battling our God so casually! You are less than plankton before His boundless majesty!”
Tyler sighed, holding up a placating hand. “Look, I don’t an to offend. My aim is to talk first — get the divine key peacefully. Fighting is a last resort. Even if he falls, he’ll revive, and your lives will go on as before, just with a brief gap in protection.”
A ripple of murderous intent swept across the room, eyes narrowing, hands inching toward hidden weapons.
Tyler tensed, ready to draw his sword if needed.
Then Maelvaris’s laughter filled the temple again, darker this ti. “Very well, [Player]. You claim you seek our God — then surely you know where to find his sanctuary, correct?”
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Tyler hesitated. “About that…”
Maelvaris’s grin spread slowly, his shark teeth gleaming. “Oh? Don’t tell you planned to drift aimlessly in the Abyssal Tides, like a lost hatchling?”
Tyler stayed silent.
“His sanctuary moves each lunar cycle,” Maelvaris continued, his tone now almost pitying. “Shrouded by storms and whirlpools no ordinary vessel can pierce. We, his devout followers, have never reached it ourselves.”
Tyler frowned. “Is that so, then…”
“But,” Maelvaris added, leaning closer, “there is one sign — the roiling storms and swirling maelstroms that mark its resting place. Only the truly resolute can even approach, and survival is never promised.”
Tyler pressed a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat echo beneath his armour. “I promise I will reach that sanctuary. I will attempt to resolve this without violence and fight only if I must.”
A hush filled the temple. Maelvaris broke it with a final, mocking laugh. “Very well. May the tides decide your fate, arrogant child.”
Tyler bowed slightly. “Thank you. I’ll be leaving now.”
---
Outside, the ocean felt colder. As Tyler made his way through the kelp and coral streets, he felt eyes on him — not just curious, but as if the sea itself watched, weighing his soul.
At Crono Crab’s shop, the crab hybrid perked up at Tyler’s approach. “Hey, Crono Crab,” Tyler said. “I’m sorry. I’m heading out on a long journey. I don’t know when I’ll be back, so I can’t finish the shell quest now. But I promise I’ll return with them soday — even the golden one.”
Crono Crab clicked his claws, his shoulders sagging. “Oh man, that’s a bumr. But I understand. Please bring them next ti, okay? Promise.”
[Quest Terminated: Colours of the Sea (2)]
Tyler nodded firmly. “Yes. I promise.”
When he finally rose to the surface, moonlight scattered across the waves in a shimring quilt of silver. Tyler hoisted himself onto a small, weather-beaten sailboat waiting near the reefs. The wood creaked under his weight, and the salt-laden wind kissed his face.
He looked back once at Aquapolis, its glow a soft heartbeat beneath the waves. Ahead, the endless sea yawned, its surface calm and deceptive, hiding whirlpools and creatures older than kingdoms.
Tyler inhaled, a tremor running through his fingers as he gripped the rudder. For a mont, mories flickered — Milo’s laughter, the scent of Windy Mountains’ cold air, and the promise he made to Kragg.
“I will find it,” he whispered to the night. “Even if I am just a fool chasing storms.”
A gust filled the sail, snapping gentle, almost clerical warmth.
“My na is Byros,” he said, his voice calm and welcoming.
Tyler blinked, still adjusting to the underwater light. “What did you an by ‘Lord and guardian’ just now?” he asked cautiously.
it into motion. The boat surged forward, slicing the waves as Tyler set his eyes on the horizon — toward storms, secrets, and a God waiting sowhere in the deep.
---
Back in the temple, Byros shifted nervously, wringing his flipper hands. “High Priest, why did you simply let [Player] leave after he disrespected our God so blatantly?”
Maelvaris turned his head slowly, his deep eyes reflecting the pale glow of bioluminescent corals. “Do not worry, child. He is but a fool, drunk on fleeting strength. He knows nothing of the absolute truths that bind this world.”
Byros tilted his head, uncertainty wrinkling his brow. “Absolute truths?”
Maelvaris exhaled, his voice dropping to a soft, foreboding whisper. “The truth that there exist boundaries no mortal can cross. Limits inscribed into the very bones of existence. Only the Primordial Beasts may wield such power freely. The [Player] believes himself unstoppable now… but he will soon et a wall beyond which he cannot push, and in that mont, he will taste despair.”
Byros’s voice trembled. “But… what if he sohow reaches the sanctuary?”
Maelvaris’s lips curved into a chilling smirk, exposing those rows of jagged teeth. “The chance of that is almost nothing. Beyond the storms and whirlpools lie threats far greater than he can imagine. Let him try. We shall watch… and when he falls, the sea itself shall teach him humility.”
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