Swaying side to side, the ship roused him gently awake.
The Adler's lullaby was everpresent in this neverending stormy night, left... right...
Left...
Right...
"Enough." Hissing through the pain in his abdomen, Syllian wearily sat up in confusion as he struggled to know his lefts from his rights.
As he fought through his disoriented mind, he realised he wasn't the only one rudely woken up by the waves, to his left Allen also woke up from his dream world.
'These are hammocks right?'
While not as comfortable as the old hospital bed and the embrace of the darkness, it certainly was a vast improvement over his shoddy shack.
"Awake Finch?" Squeezing his temple to ease his morning headache, Allen cheerfully greeted Syllian with his raspy morning voice.
Quite the contrast. From a high-pitched youthful voice to an old man's grainy voice.
Mornings did wonders for everyone.
"Mornin."
'Sore throat.'
Rubbing his throat tenderly, Syllian dug through last night's memories but could only unveil a small amount with most of it disappearing soon after the Captain's life-saving attack.
The lack of blood and exhaustion caught up to him soon after that apparently.
"What happened last night...?"
Allen stood next to his hammock now as he put on his roughed-up dirty shirt and pants.
"I knew you'd ask, you passed out the moment we raised the sail with blood flowing out of that wound of yours. If not for Mr Rinton saving you, you'd be dead by now."
'Mr Rinton... A doctor? Maybe the same one who runs that hospital room?'
"Oh, then what about the..." Unwilling to finish his sentence, Syllian shivered from the memory of that diabolical tentacle.
"That thing stopped attacking soon after we finished raising the sail, we can rest easy now."
After solemnly absorbing that information, Syllian couldn't share in Allen's relief.
'Rest easy?'
Sure, he'd love to.
If not for the fact that the Net of Ruin clearly told him that a mutiny was about to occur onboard!
"Good, do we have any orders?"
Allen had finished dressing by now.
Picking up a flask from the ground near the pillars that hung his hammock, he took a swig of whatever liquid was inside and responded with a refreshing youthful voice this time.
"None, for now. You should probably go to Mr Rinton, the surgeon should be finished dealing with most of the most crucial patients."
Closing the flask and returning it to the ground, Allen stepped out of the room quietly, so as not to wake up the 10 others sleeping in the room, with a parting wave.
Sat in silence, Syllian coughed a few times and tended to his irritated throat with a swig of whatever liquid the flask beneath Allen's hammock contained.
It was water.
It wasn't just his throat, his lungs felt dry and heavy, and his muscles were quite sore from last night's endeavour.
'This is definitely my real body, that's for sure.'
After a short search, Syllian found his tunic and pants hidden beneath his hammock.
While putting on the disgusting clothing Syllian thought to himself:
'Now that I think about it, why is everyone wearing different clothing? I for one am wearing peasant clothing, Allen is wearing clothing closer to the type we wear in the modern age, and a solid portion of the crew wore white, fashionable uniforms.'
Maybe his questions would be answered later, or maybe not.
Fuck knows if he'd live long enough to even find out.
Now that his mind returned to reality, Syllian awkwardly realised his hammock had its own flask tucked away.
'Oops, sorry Allen.'
---
Manoeuvring through the corridors hidden within the ship, he noticed only a few people walking around.
'Just how many died last night?'
Or maybe most were up above, repairing the ship.
Now that he knew the ship could be considered mostly safe, Syllian noticed the irregularities he missed last night.
One, for example, was the soundproofing that prevented him from hearing what was occurring outside. And on top of the soundproofing was the vibration absorption system that must exist.
Compared to the impact when the abomination had smashed into the ship while he was inside, the collision had felt a dozen times more powerful when he stood on the deck.
Creak...
A door to his right opened and a man with a sling wrapped around his right arm slipped past him soullessly with a blank light in his eyes.
"Hm?"
Looking inside, Syllian belatedly realised he had arrived at the hospital-esque room.
The floor was cleaner than before, but stains of blood still covered the majority of the ground.
With a monocle hanging over his right, brown eye, a middle-aged man that leaned closer towards his late 50s sat on a chair beside the man wrapped in bandages.
His white, doctor's cloak was decorated with fresh blood.
Turning to his left, the surgeon glanced at the door with an indifferent look in his eyes.
He was accustomed to gore and pain, it came with the job.
"Another one?" He spoke with a plain, almost grate-like, tone in his voice.
Syllian spared a look at another person who slept on the bed at the other edge of the room and nodded to the surgeon:
"I wanted to get my wound checked, it reopened last night."
"...Last night? Whatever, take a seat in bed two." The man was about to return his attention to the patient, then paused himself just in time to correct his error.
"Wait, go to bed three."
Syllian quickly understood why the man changed his decision, the second bed was drenched from top to bottom in blood.
Someone must have died there.
Syllian sat down on the edge of the bed facing the bandaged man and surgeon.
"What are you looking at." The surgeon, Mr Rinton, hadn't even looked up from his patient but he instantly felt Syllian's firm gaze.
"Nothing." Turning his eyes away, Syllian looked around the room he woke up in with more attention.
A lot of the medical items were now thrown into the wooden bin in the corner, many syringes, drugs, and things like bandages and towels had been used up in swaths. There was a severe lack of medical equipment.
'That would only make a civil war more dangerous.'
Negatives, so many goddamn negatives.
"Damn..." Syllian muttered under his breath.
The man covered in bandages shifted in his bed, "What's got you rile- Cough! Cough! -d up?"
'He heard that?'
Syllian was honestly surprised that he managed to hear his voice.
"It- Cough! -could be- Cough! -worse."
"Stop talking."
The surgeon berated his patient with a sour look on his face, "Worry about yourself first."
"Sure."
-----
Sometime later, Mr Rinton cleaned Syllian's wound, wrapped it with fresh bandages, and sent him on his merry way with some drugs.
Feeling much better, the teenager, who felt much cleaner than he had in the ruined city thanks to getting washed by litres of water the night before, stood in front of the door leading to the deck again.
'New day, new me.'
...Or some bullshit like that.
Which miserable bastard made that phrase up, fuck off, what new me? I'm still stuck in a fucking...
What was it called again?
'Mini vase of ruin?'
Some garbage like that.
Opening the door with his slightly restored strength, he prepped his eyes for a blast of sunlight.
Psshhhh!
Freezing rainwater smacked into his face, waking the stupefied boy out of his ridiculous hopes and dreams.
The blasting winds hadn't reduced in any way shape or form, and the sound of the waves crashing onto the hull of the ship was even sharper than the night before.
Other than the sails that had been raised, nothing changed.
Above, where the sun should have been...
Darkness.
It was still night.
'Huh.'
Did he miss something?
Did he sleep through the day?
Maybe?
It was a possibility.
The actual answer, however, was simple.
Syllian, though, couldn't fathom the simplicity of the answer.
At that moment, Crude passed by with a hammer and some spare planks in his hand.
"Hey, Finch, help me with the repairs."
Syllian looked up to the tall, down-trodden man, and complied.
Following behind him, Syllian continued staring at the night sky.
A fiery question surged at the tip of his tongue, but Syllian knew he couldn't ask such a direct question lest he reveal how odd he was.
Whether or not the Net of Ruin cared enough about realism to strike him down for acting out was not the point, perhaps this world might be real and he was just sent to it for all he knew.
Even if it was fake, it made no difference.
It was real enough for him to die, so that made it real in his mind.
The main point was, that if he acted out of place, they could consider him an anomaly and eliminate him in the best-case scenario, or torture then eliminate him in the worst case.
And he wanted neither.
"Hey, Crude, what time is it?" So, Syllian chose the safest question he could think of.
Not ask when it would be daytime, or ask what day it was, or what year, or some rudimentary question that even a child would know the answer to.
"Time? Gotta ask the Captain for that, he's the only one with a synced pocket watch. Can't really tell when it's constantly night time so what did you expect from me?" Giving the teenager behind him an amused look of 'Is this kid an idiot or what', Crude shook his head and continued to where the tip of the ship was.
Letting out a sigh of relief inwardly, Syllian patted his back in self-praise.
'See, you old witches of the slums, I'm not that bad at communicating.'
It had confirmed a couple of crucial questions that were simmering within him.
First, only the Captain had access to the time.
And two, the most important thing he had heard so far.
This was the land of, or technically ocean, or sea, whichever, of eternal night.
Now, he was curious, why was this place constantly under the watch of the night?
And why did the sun never rise?
What was this place?
Ah, so curious.
He was too curious.
And curiosity was a sin.
But...
Who cares anymore?
He was already in the Trial of Ruin, at this point, his sacred law was already torn into pieces.
'Whatever, I'm a vile hypocrite anyways.'
"Here, take this hammer and fix up the holes in the floor, make sure to plug it in properly, got it?"
Crude passed Syllian a spare hammer and got to work without hesitation. Because with every second, the deck below was getting flooded with water and a majority of the crew were stuck with clearing the ship of excess water.
"Get to work!" Hammering away into a plank, the dull thuds were drowned by the crashing waves and vicious rain.
Syllian threw away his thoughts and focused on his new job.
Fixing a boat.
'What's the worst that could happen?'
---
Being berated by a little girl apparently.
"You suck." A little girl huddled in the corner looked up at the ashamed Syllian.
"Uh... You are?"
Crude passed them a look and answered Syllian's question for her.
"Captain's daughter, you idiot."
Shaking his head in disappointment at the stupidity of his fellow crewmate, Crude returned to work.
As for the little girl...
The look of superiority glinting in her eyes ticked something off in Syllian's heart.
'Why am I getting double-teamed?!'
She, the girl who looked no older than 11, clicked her teeth and looked away.
Not even willing to spare a glance at the useless Syllian.
But here was the unfortunate reality, Syllian couldn't even bite back at her comment.
Because...
Glancing down at his exquisite carpentry work...
'...Alright, one day, one day I'll be an amazing carpenter.'
Sighing bitterly, he hammered away with a tear running down his eye.
...Alright, that might be a lie.