"Wanna check?"
"Sure, why not?"
The moment those words were spoken, Lugh's first instinct was to scream–not out of fear, but as a calculated risk. A loud enough noise might alert someone else, disrupt the situation, and buy him time to escape.
He inhaled, about to act- The door swung open again.
Someone walked in.
"What are you still doing? You're gonna miss dinner."
"Right."
"Coming."
The men exchanged words, their footsteps fading into the distance.
Lugh exhaled slowly, his heartbeat steadying. No need to scream. Not yet.
Dinner.
His stomach twisted painfully, a dull ache radiating through his gut.
He glanced at his small sack which was now completely empty–not even a crumb remained. That was... quite unfortunate.
No point dwelling on it.
A moment later, the lid of the crate swung halfway open. His head popped out, and a quick scan confirmed no one else was present.
Then, he fully opened the box and cautiously stepped out, every movement measured, deliberate.
There was no need for his eyes to adjust –the room was dark, but the insides of the supply crate had been even darker
Speaking of supplies
Lugh threw a glance at the door before methodically searching through the nearby crates. Medical kits. Ammunition. Spare parts. No food.
An inconvenience.
The rations were likely stored separately-perhaps in the pantry below deck. He considered returning to the crate for safety but his growing hunger, now a painful gnawing in his stomach, made him reconsider.
It had reached a point where inaction posed a greater risk than movement. Decision made, he moved toward the door.
The moment he stepped outside, a blast of icy air slammed into him. His thin clothes did little to stop the cold from biting into his skin.
Although he shivered, the sensation was invigorating, clearing his mind, sharpening his focus.
The sea stretched endlessly before him, an expanse of water that refused to reflect the moonlight. This left its surfaces inky black and its depths unfathomable.
All around him a massive fleet of more than a hundred ships sailed in an ironclad formation, their bows parting the waves with ease.
Towering above the rest, at the vanguard, the middle, and the rear of the fleet were the colossal shapes of what Lugh recognised as the FSV-12s, the Kingdom's esteemed capital ships.
A glorious lineup. A breathtaking display of military power.
Lugh crouched low, moving through the shadows along the deck. The watchmen were stationed along the ship's edges, their eyes scanning the horizon, rifles at the ready.
Predictable. Security was lax when the danger was presumed to be elsewhere.
As he moved, the sky above suddenly flared bright
A signal shot.
Lugh froze, instinctively pressing himself against a bulkhead.
In the distance, something enormous stirred. A whale-like creature with jagged spines that glistening in the artificial light, let out an eerie, mournful wail before vanishing into the depths.
The sea moved in response. Countless shadows, darker than night, formless, and of different sizes, flickered just below the surface, shifting, waiting.
The waters seemed to be alive.
Goosebumps crawled up Lugh's skin...'Where the hell am I?'
The soldiers on watch barely reacted, their gazes lingering on the spot where the monster had disappeared before returning to their posts. It was routine to them.
It was normal.
Lugh exhaled. This wasn't the time to dwell on things beyond his control.
He resumed his crawl across the deck and soon found an unlocked service door leading to the ship's interior. Slipping inside, he navigated the dimly lit corridors. His footsteps light as a feather.
The scent of food was faint but distinct. Lugh followed it faithfully, with quiet precision, until he reached the mess hall. It was empty.
Perfect.
His eyes swept the tables. There was a limited supply of leftover scraps and abandoned half-eaten meals. It was inefficient for people to waste food, but fortunate for him.
Akin to a racoon rummaging through trash, he wolfed down a discarded piece of stale bread.
Halfway through devouring the meager finds, something metallic caught his eye.
Reluctantly setting down a bowl of cold soup, he walked over and peered at the object.
A pistol, carelessly left on a bench. Small-caliber, well-maintained, fully loaded.
He picked it up.
Someone had been negligent. That was their mistake.
He tucked the weapon into his
undergarments and was about to return to his meal when he heard footsteps
approaching.
Before he could react a soldier on night patrol had entered the dining area yawning and stretching.
Given no time to think, Lugh moved instantly. He grabbed a bowl from a nearby table and flung it toward the far side of the room. The loud clang echoed.
The approaching soldier halted. A yawn turned into tense silence.
Then- A hand reached for a holster.
But Lugh was already gone. His silhouette barely visible as he bolted through the shadows.
The 14-year-old's body moved with the efficiency of rehearsed action, retracing his path before the soldier could investigate. Through the corridors, across the deck, back towards the storage hold.
He reached the door. Pushed.
It was Locked.
...Why?
Lugh frowned, placing a hand against the doorframe. He had left it open. That meant someone-
"Don't move, or I'll shoot."
Cold metal clicked behind him.
Lugh's breath did not hitch. His pulse did not spike.
He simply stilled.
New variables had entered play. Now, he just had to adjust.