Philip, unlike the other jubilant crew and passengers, pushed Gozia away whilst ignoring the pain in his back and palms and dashed to the ship's side, eyes scanning the vast expanse of the sea.
He shifted relentlessly, searching for anything unusual, anything out of place.
Then, a muffled cry pierced the air.
Stunned, he pinpointed the source and sprinted towards the Flying Bird's bow.
The cry grew louder, more desperate. Philip saw a crimson stain blossoming on the distant blue, a large shadow shifting beneath.
The shadow rapidly materialized into a monstrous fish with four eyes—grayish-blue orbs replacing scales and a terrifyingly sharp mouth.
This wasn't a small fish. It writhed and thrashed, frantic flicks of its tail sending water droplets flying.
Waves surged around it, reaching heights of five to six meters even without the wind's aid, crashing down with thunderous force.
