The King coughed up some seawater before turning on his back. He batted his eye around, seeing if anyone was there. He was on a large pile of rocks just next to a beach. He frowned as he started limping towards the beach. It seemed like he was alone. He was able to see what seemed to be a shipwreck - he couldn't remember who crashed, but he just instinctively knew that the shipwreck was recent. The large wooden planks were broken into countless pieces after seemingly getting rammed into a large rock near the coast of the island he was on - or at least he thought it was an island. He was honestly not sure. He knew that the beach he was on was surrounded by sea, but behind him was an enormous mountain that covered the beach in a weird u-shaped way.

King Gilthorpe couldn't remember why he was there. The last thing he remembered was meeting Andrew and learning that he had saved his daughter. Then he could recall the humans forcing his hand because a group of human bandits perished under his men's hands. The King then started walking towards the shipwreck. It was a complete mess: pieces of cloth, planks of wood and countless little things were floating all over the place. In the chaos that was the shipwreck, the King couldn't find a single useful thing. That was until he suddenly stumbled onto something hard.

The King looked down at the object. It was an oval-shaped object made out of shiny metal. He could swear that it was something important that he needed, but he couldn't wrap his head around what it was. That was when he saw a button on the back of the object. Pondering over what it could be, the King pressed the button, hoping that something would happen. But he only heard an underwhelmingly small clicking sound. That was when the object suddenly burst open. It was a... compass? The King frowned.

Then, all of a sudden, a piece of paper fell out from the compass. King Gilthorpe immediately tried to grab it, but he wasn't fast enough as the piece of paper fell into the water and got wet. The King sighed in disappointment as he carefully picked it up. However, the piece of paper was too old and wet, and it seemed as if the second the King picked it up, the paper just broke apart into countless small pieces, incomprehensible to the normal eye.

"What the f..." the King muttered to himself.

He tried to salvage what was left of the piece of paper. It was broken into so many pieces that it wasn't just difficult to put it all together - it was simply impossible. All of the pieces were so wet and old that anything that used to be on the paper simply all faded away.

The King was utterly confused. He wasn't sure what he had to be doing. He couldn't even remember things properly. He had a basic idea of what he was doing before he lost his memory and appeared on the island: he could remember his daughter, the Royal House, his dispute with the humans and the child called Andrew. But beyond that, he was completely clueless.

King Gilthorpe sat on the beach as he stared at the sky. He let out a heavy sigh. He couldn't remember anything - or anything important, at least. He wasn't sure why he was there and how he could get out of there. The only things he really knew were things that he could reach. Maybe fate was just playing a trick on him. Maybe the world just took him as a joke.

And that was when he saw 'it'.

No, to be precise, he didn't 'see' it.

But he felt its presence.

The presence of a predator.

The terrifying presence of it on the high seas was consuming him. It felt as if it tore his soul to countless pieces as it slowly devoured him and overwhelmed him with fear and only fear. But what was truly terrifying about it was that despite how much the King kept looking around, he couldn't actually see anything. Sure, he could feel the staggering presence of whatever it was, but he couldn't actually see what it was. The only reason he could feel it was because he had been going out and hunting since he was a child. The King's father had trained him to fight countless beasts, all extremely dangerous, but he had never felt anything like it.

Instinctively, the King turned around. He wasn't sure where he was going and what he was going to do, but he did know one thing: he had to run for his life. Maybe he would be able to outrun the beast in some way - but at the same time, he knew he couldn't. How could he outrun something that was all around him?

But the King kept running. He headed straight for the tall rocky mountains. He was always quite athletic. Was it enough to climb up the outlandishly tall cliff? Probably not. Did he have another choice? Certainly not. So he just kept on sprinting. He didn't have a plan. He certainly didn't know what he was going to do even if he was able to climb up that cliff. But he didn't care. Every single fibre of his body was screaming out to him, begging him to run. So he ran.

Yet somehow, the cliff seemed to drift farther and farther away from him. He was just running straight forward, but it seemed as if the distance between him and the rocky cliff was still the same. And that was when he heard a low bellowing sound. Anybody in their right mind would've immediately recognised it as just another simply bellowing noise made by a large but harmless animal, but the King was not in his right mind. As he heard that sound, the only thing that he heard was a terrifying and heroic roar emitting from a beast, establishing its authority over the high seas.

Finally, the King reached the rocky cliff. He felt as if the beast was getting closer and closer to him, but he couldn't care less. He had one goal and only one goal: to reach the top of that cliff and run away. He needed to survive. Yet as he reached the cliff and started climbing, the surface of the cliff suddenly became smooth. The King was astonished. He looked around, as suddenly a gigantic tentacle shot out from the ground as small grains of sand flew everywhere. The side of the mountain transformed from a smooth surface to a completely spotless one: he could even see spots on its side that was shining some light at him. The King started running around. More and more tentacles started bursting out from the ground.

"One..." the King counted as he panted, "Two... Three... Four..."

Another tentacle burst right out of the ground right under him. The tentacle grabbed his leg and pulled it violently as the King fell to the ground on his face. It then started pulling him down the hole that it emerged from, dragging the King through the sand, which was silk-smooth just moments ago yet suddenly become rough and hard. As the King got dragged into the hole covered by sand, he looked down at his feet in terror, hyperventilating. He tried to grab onto the falling sand, trying to get ahold of something. But then the next thing he knew was that he was falling.

The only he could see was nothingness. It was a cold pitch black as he just fell for what felt to be just seconds yet also felt like an eternity. The next thing he realized was that he had landed on a cornfield. He stood up and tried to get his stuff together, but the joke that the universe was playing on him had a different idea. It didn't even give him a single second to react before he was suddenly floating in the air. And it wasn't only him either. The truck, the houses and the farm animals were also floating in the air. And amidst all that chaos, he could recognise something familiar.

An oval-shaped, metallic object.

The King started waving his arms, trying to push himself through the air as the world got crazier and crazier: things started catching on fire, the cows' heads turned into car wheels and the truck suddenly had Ryan Reynolds' face on its door. But the King was focused on one thing and one thing only: the compass.

He headed for it. He could feel as if the air was being torn apart as he tried to reach for it. He could feel things turning into crap around him. But he was able to grab onto the compass. And that was when he pressed the button on the back of it. As the cap of the compass popped open and the King saw its hand pointing north, he turned his head up as the only thing he was able to see - or not see, rather - was a blinding light that seemingly pierced through his body. He could feel as if the light that was covering his body was a bunch of tentacles from an octopus - or was it a squid - grabbing onto him, consuming his very being.

And the next thing the King knew, he was lying on a hammock as he could hear waves crashing onto the coast tenderly.

"What the actual hell?"