I hovered at the gates of Ariel’s encampment, my eyes nervously flicking toward the towering, stone walls that loomed in front of me, open and eager, like a hungry maw. Unlike Shea’s camp, this one was fortified and unkempt. The walls were opaque, covered in thick, green, kelp tendrils that swayed gently in the current, casting a dotted, shadow-pattern across the seabed. Behind me stood the open ocean, my freedom, and my safe, cushy life away from death and war. In front of me sat my discipline. I could feel my old ways creeping into my mind, the familiar pull of languidity, the longing to be swimming freely, drifting from one rip to another, completely untethered. But my new ambition, my new determination, slapped those intrusive thoughts away. I’d made a mess of things with Shea’s platoon, and now I had a chance, albeit slim, to redeem myself.

So, let’s do this. And let’s do this right.

I crossed the threshold into the camp, swimming through the gate with my head held high. Instantaneously, I was greeted by the clang of weapons being sharpened against spinning stone, the grunts of sparring, and the conversations of soldiers who stood there, eyeing me shamelessly. Ariel’s platoon was different from what I had imagined. The members were much less polished than him, much rougher around the edges, carrying themselves without the air of regality he held… I saw their faces. Hardened. Most likely from the surplus of battles this platoon was sent to—they not only took on their own missions, but were called in to save failed ones, much like Shea’s last fight. Their armor was dented, their tridents and spears showed signs of wear, but their eyes were sharp; focused. Holding an intensity that reminded me of my father, an intensity that made me recoil. I felt out of place. And the scrutiny didn’t help.

“Firth Ridire.” A voice called out, low and cold. “It’s about time.”

I turned and there he was—Ariel MacNamara. He approached, his red hair streaming like Overworld flames, his sharp, tanned face looking less-than-impressed. “I wasn’t sure if you’d show.”

I forced a pleasant smile, my tail swishing nervously behind me. “I wouldn’t miss it. I’m so grateful for this opportunity, lieutenant.”

“We’ll see about that.” With a short gesture, he motioned for me to follow, swimming through the camp. As we passed soldiers preparing for their next missions, I couldn’t help but notice the way they turned toward me, watching my movements without looking away. Hmph. Did Ariel tell them about today’s events? And, worse, did they not believe in me? 

I suddenly grew very… nervous about what exactly this Quest would be.

We stopped at the center of the camp, where a group of several displeased soldiers stood gathered around the remains of a crushed ration carriage. The wooden frame had been splintered, and crates of dried seaweed, clam crackers and preserved fish were strewn about the sand, crushed beyond recognition.

“Our food for the week,” Ariel said flatly. “We were expecting a fresh supply, but some trigger-happy, rebel sea dogs decided to intercept the shipment. They didn’t even take anything, just… ripped it to shreds and sent our driver back with a note, letting us know they’re aware of our routes and aware of our location.”

“A stupid intimidation tactic, if you ask me.” A young, familiar voice rang out. I turned my head to see Rory, his hair shaved, his arms bruised.

“Right, Rory.” Ariel crossed his arms over his chest, looking at the newest addition to his platoon with slight endearment. I had expected him to reprimand the boy for interrupting, but it seemed he had a soft spot for young foot soldiers, or, at the very least, found them less annoying than he found me. “Well, regardless of how intelligent of a maneuver this was, I don’t feed good men crushed rations. So, now my camp is hungry.”

“You want me to… find food?” I swallowed hard, looking out at the platoon. Gosh, those were a lot of mouths to feed. Big mouths.

“That’s the idea,” Ariel confirmed. “Do you think you can handle it, Ridire? Or is it too much for a card player?”

Card player?

So my father did talk about me, then. And it certainly wasn’t to brag or boast, no. It was to complain about my interests and hobbies. Interests and hobbies that I could still, possibly, maybe get a job in! Maybe. But my life has taken a different turn. I need to Level up, learn magic, and, one day, throw my stupid father in the dungeon.

A great life plan.

“I can handle it,” I said, injecting a heaping of confidence into my voice.

Ariel’s eyes narrowed, and a faint smirk tugged at the corners of his lips. “Good. You’ll need to venture beyond the Kelp Walls and into the Outer Reefs. Be cautious—the rebels have been sighted in the area, and the creatures aren’t exactly friendly. But they’re giant, and they taste good.” He turned away, dismissing me with a peculiar hand wave.

[New Side Quest: Hunt the Outer Reefs Beasts, overseen by Lieutenant Ariel.] 

[Objective: Gather enough food for Ariel’s Platoon.]

[Reward: +100 Rations, Enlistment, potential to unlock Special Poaching Skill.]

Oh. Interesting. Did he choose that reward? The potential to unlock a poaching skill? And, what did potential mean, anyway? Was it up to him if I got it or not?

How… rigged.

“Overseen by Lieutenant Ariel?” I echoed the notification, cocking my head. “You’re joining me?”

“Absolutely not. I’m far too busy to deal with your torment. I only add that so Neptune doesn’t grow concerned with my propensity to send novice foot soldiers on solo Quests.”

With that cheerful farewell, I was left to my own devices.

It was time to go, time to explore, time to hunt.

The Outer Reefs were a dangerous place, even for seasoned soldiers like Ariel himself. As I swam past the Kelp Walls, the light dimmed, filtered through the tangled growths of brittle seaweed and coral. The water here was much colder, the ripples biting, frosty, and much more bubbly. Every shadow seemed to hold a lurking body—mostly krill–but I couldn’t let my guard down. These waters were much different than the reefs of home. I clutched my knife tightly, more than ready to use it. So far, the only time I had swung a weapon was in battle, against a rebel. That… was something I tried to block out of my mind. Fruitlessly. So, hopefully I get the chance to remake those memories. To think of a valiant win during a hunting expedition each time I grip a sharp object instead of mermaid-on-mermaid murder.

From my card-playing days, I had picked up a few tricks, mostly when it came to plants and identification. That was my favorite part of Herbalist Haven, after all. The creation and the harvest. Most of the old soldiers, especially my father, dismissed card games as a waste of time, but those same games were built on real knowledge by System extraordinaires. Crafting potions, mixing herbs, even cooking--all those were real skills. And perhaps I wasn’t entirely well-versed in how to gather the necessary plants, how to concoct with my two hands, but at the very least, I knew which plants to grab, and which to avoid. Which were edible, and which would send me straight to Shea.

Mostly.

I floated above a cluster of bright orange coral, the tips fading into a dark red as it glowed faintly in the dim light. A school of tiny fish darted by, their scales gray and iridescent, reminiscent of miniature stars. They were too small to be of any use, especially not when it came to Ariel’s men, but they told me something important—this area wasn’t completely barren. Life was here, hiding among the crevices and rocks. The little fish fed on something nearby, and there was something that fed on them, too.

Something bigger.

As I swam about, checking in holes and dirt caverns, I remembered a passage from one of the scrolls in Shea’s library—the one I used when creating a Healing Salve. There was mention of seahorse-like creatures—massive, armored, and fiercely territorial—known to roam these parts. Clearly edible, as the book even taking the time to write a disturbingly detailed paragraph about its prized meat and its rich flavor, its hides that could be used for all sorts of things. But they were notoriously difficult to hunt. Sigh. High risk, high reward. Or whatever.

Hmmmmm.

Hm, hm, hm.

I thought for a moment, wondering how on earth I could seek those beasts out. I could swim aimlessly for hours, but that seemed hard. And counter-productive. I’m sure after hour six Ariel would think I died a gruesome death. Or ate some poison plants and got caught up retching my guts out. 

Oh, right—plants. I could craft something. I could craft bait to lure them! I had unlocked that skill, after all, thanks to that Quest Shea and I took, and I kind of knew how to use it, kind of knew how to access that part of the System. Today I will be doing a good bit of hands-on learning, finally releasing the potential for herbalism greatness that buzzed within me.

With a bit of scavenging—or, as Shea once put it, foraging—I found what I needed. Seaweed, crushed coral, and a particular type of glowing algae that acted as a powerful attractant to the Seahorses. Briefly, I wondered if this algae would affect my fellow merfolk; the ones with seahorse tails. But I quickly pushed that aside. Now was not the time for thoughts of love potions. I combined the ingredients, mashing them together with my hands until they formed a thick paste. The System Screen flickered before me, and a message appeared.

[CRAFTING SUCCESSFUL: BAIT CREATED.]

[New Item added to Crafting Index: Seafarer’s Seahorse Beast Bait.]

That’s a… long name. And wait, I have an Index? Is my Healing Salve recipe in there, too?

I’ll need to check that out later. Seems rather helpful.

For now, I need to focus on both enjoying the surge of pride coursing through my veins and putting up the trap I have not yet set.