Raiden's small boat drifted along the vast sea, surrounded by endless waves. His stomach growled, reminding him of the hunger gnawing at him. He dipped his hand into the water and tasted it, only to spit it out immediately—the sharp, bitter salt stung his mouth. This wasn't like the rivers he knew back home; it was foreign, relentless.
As he scanned the horizon, a ship appeared in the distance. Raiden straightened, waving to catch its attention. Slowly, the ship turned toward him, its rough-looking crew watching him from the deck. These men were hard, with scars marking their faces, their eyes sharp and wary.
A man who appeared to be the captain leaned over the railing, a sly grin stretching across his face. "You look like you've been out here a while. Hungry?"
Raiden held his gaze steady. "I could use a meal," he replied, firm but calm.
The captain's grin widened. "Then climb aboard. We've got plenty for a guest." Without hesitation, Raiden stepped up, feeling the wood of the deck under his feet, taking in the size of the ship and the tough faces around him. Just as he moved forward, he sensed someone behind him—a man sneaking up quietly. Before he could react, something hard crashed against the back of his head, and everything went dark.