Soon, news of a terrifying sea monster appearing in the nearby waters spread like wildfire across the entire pier. Everyone was talking about it.
"They say that sea monster has eight tentacles like sickles. It grabbed a Sea King bigger than a mountain and, with just a little squeeze, crushed it to pieces."
"I knew it! I thought something was off the day before yesterday. I saw a huge shadow moving in the deep sea from a distance. It must have been the sea monster you're talking about."
"I heard that sea monster has eight heads."
"I heard it has eight human legs and it's some kind of monster fish with a human face."
The rumors grew more and more exaggerated. At the pier, Kakarot and the other Marines shot Wilder a strange look and muttered under their breath, "I think I might know the sea monster everyone's talking about. He does have a human face… and human legs."
"Are you all planning to stand here forever?" Wilder glanced at them.
The men snapped back to reality. Kakarot coughed awkwardly. "So, Mr. Wilder, are you planning to come with us…?"
"No need. You go handle the supplies. I'm going to have a look around the island," Wilder said, turning and walking toward the island's interior, leaving Kakarot and the others to stare at his back.
After exchanging a look, Kakarot waved his hand. "Let's go. Let's get the supplies quickly so we can leave early. I can't wait to get to Water 7 and then head back. I swear, I never want to deal with this man again."
The other Marines nodded in deep agreement. In their minds, Wilder was a ferocious beast and a madman. It was best to keep their distance.
Wilder's steps were unhurried as he walked on the giant stone slabs that had been carved by hand, one chisel mark at a time, giving the path a primitive feel.
Moss grew between the stones. The houses on either side were built of wood and rock, covered in green vines and other plants. As he walked further from the bustling market, the surroundings gradually grew quiet. Only a few scattered courtyards dotted the sides of the path, which was slowly turning to dirt. Ahead, a dense forest came into view.
Occasionally, a few natives carrying farming tools would walk by, casting curious glances at Wilder.
Wilder planned to ask someone about the island. He had only read a line or two about its legend in a book. He wasn't even sure if the monster existed, but if it did, he first needed to know where it lived before he could go see it.
Just then, he saw an old man leaning against his courtyard gate, smoking a strangely shaped pipe. A few young, sturdy men were chatting with him. Judging by the courtyard behind him, the old man was clearly a respected elder. For a newcomer, asking such a person was the most appropriate choice; their age meant they knew more old tales than the younger generation.
Putting on a gentle smile, Wilder walked over. The old man and the young men chatting outside the courtyard noticed him approaching and turned to look at him with a mixture of confusion and caution.
"Hello, I'm a traveler."
"Oh, I see!" The men lowered their guard, scratching their heads as they looked at Wilder. "Is there something you need?"
Their simple, innocent demeanor made Wilder's smile widen. He got straight to the point. "I've heard the legend of the monster of Native Island and I'm very interested. I'd like to learn more about it."
"Oh, you mean that thing," the old man said, taking a dull, dry puff from his pipe. "That's no legend. It's real. Though, no one's ever seen what it looks like. Because everyone who has is dead."
At this, the old man glanced at Wilder. "You want to go into the forest? Then I have to warn you: whatever you do, don't go east. This is my advice to you, an outsider, a traveler."
Wilder smiled to himself but put on a puzzled expression. "Why?"
"Because the legend you speak of, its nest is in the deepest part of the forest to the east. I can't guarantee it won't wander from the deepest part to the outer edges, but I can be sure you won't run into it in the other directions. That area is a valley with sheer cliffs. Its massive body means it can't pass through the valley's crevices as freely as a human can. So if you really want to go east, you'd best stop before you reach the valley."
"Oh, thank you so much. Your advice is very helpful." Wilder took out a pack of cigarettes and offered it to the old man. "Perhaps you'd like to try one of these, as a token of my gratitude. They might be… better than what you're smoking."
The old man took it, his eyes lighting up as he stared at the cigarettes in his hand. "Seeing as you're so sincere, I'll be merciful and tell you one more thing. Although everyone who's seen the monster is dead, that doesn't mean people know nothing about what it looks like. When I was young, I was lucky enough to catch a glimpse of it. Of course, it was just a fleeting glance, which is why I survived. You understand, anyone who's seen its true form is dead, and that's why I've lived to be eighty-five today. Surprising, isn't it? The secret to my long life is a secret. I can't tell you that."
Wilder listened to the old man's rambling without interrupting, the smile on his face unwavering. The young men beside him, however, couldn't hold back. They grabbed the old man's hand in excitement and shook it. "Grandpa Baika, did you really see what the monster looks like when you were young? What was it like?"
The old man, who was called Baika, had his eyes roll back in his head from the shaking. He looked like he was about to pass out on the spot. "Get off! Stop! Stop it! You damn brat!"
The young man was overcome with excitement, but he realized he was about to shake Grandpa Baika to death and quickly let go. He stood to the side, asking eagerly, "Grandpa Baika, hurry up and tell us, what did the monster look like?"
Baika shot him a fierce glare and snorted, raising his pipe to hit him. Just as it was about to connect, he remembered something and stopped. He checked his pipe, and only after seeing it was undamaged did he let out a sigh of relief. He glared at the young man again before speaking slowly.
"When I was young, I was just like you are now, curious about the monster the adults talked about. One day, I made up my mind to see what it looked like. Without telling anyone, I went alone to the deepest part of the forest to the east. I remember it was getting late, probably around this time." As Baika spoke, the young men subconsciously looked up at the sky. The sun was already setting.
Baika seemed to be reliving the memory. "As I got closer to the valley, I walked very slowly, not even making a sound with my footsteps. I was afraid that even the slightest noise would be detected by the monster. I'd often heard the adults say that the monster's hearing was incredibly sharp, that it could hear footsteps from outside the valley. When it did, it would wait at the valley crevice. It loves to eat humans. Anyone who couldn't resist the temptation and curiosity would be drawn to the crevice, and that would be its time for a feast."
"Temptation?" Wilder noted the word.
Baika glanced at him and nodded faintly. "That's right. That monster has a strange gift. It can release a scent, a smell that humans find particularly fragrant, like roasted meat. Of course, some say it's the scent of flowers, and others say it's the smell of blood. In short, the smell everyone perceives is something that has a strong attraction to them personally. I don't know what others think, but I believe the person who smelled blood must be a pervert."
"I agree," Wilder said, looking as if he deeply shared the sentiment.
Baika looked at him again, this time with a hint of appreciation and approval in his eyes. The young men nearby caught the meaning in his glance and, as if they'd figured something out, quickly nodded in agreement. "Yes, we agree."
"Damn it, don't interrupt me," was the reply they got from Baika's dissatisfied scolding.
After his outburst, Baika took a puff from his pipe and continued, "So, not only does that monster have terrifying hearing, but it also has this gift, like an illusion or a drug, that can unknowingly draw people in. Of course, maybe its sense of smell and sight are just as exceptional. Who can say for sure?"
"You see, I was moving quietly as I approached the valley crevice, so I didn't actually make any noise. Or maybe I did, but because I was moving so slowly, the monster didn't recognize them as human footsteps. So, I didn't smell anything strange, even when I reached the crevice."
"But Grandpa Baika, how did you see the monster? If that's the case, the monster shouldn't have been waiting at the crevice, right? Don't tell me you went into the valley?" the young man finished, staring at him with disbelief.
"Damn it! Damn it! Why do you always have to interrupt me! Don't you know old people have bad memories? Can you even imagine how difficult it is for me to recall what happened back then?" Baika stood up angrily, whacking the young man on the head with his pipe again and again.
"Stop! Stop hitting me! I promise I won't ask again!" the young man said, clutching his head, his face already black and blue.
Hearing this, Baika grew even angrier, hitting him harder. "Damn it! Now it sounds like I'm some unreasonable old man. I'm not one of those elders who stifles a young person's curiosity or robs them of the virtue of asking questions! Remember! What you just did was interrupt an old man, not ask a question. The two are not the same thing."
Baika said indignantly. Once he had calmed down, he lovingly stroked his pipe, only relaxing after he saw it wasn't bent. He then took another puff.
Wilder looked at the young man with a hint of sympathy. If he could, he would have quietly handed him a pack of cigarettes to give to Baika as a sign of respect. Perhaps then his treatment would have been completely different.
"Let's talk about what the monster looked like. I don't remember the exact details of the process very well. It was less its appearance and more its form. I was very lucky. The moment I reached the crevice and peered inside, I saw a sight I'll never forget for the rest of my life."
"But didn't you say it was hard to remember? Why are you saying it's unforgettable now?" the young man leaned over and asked, confused.
"Oh, for heaven's sake. Mr. Traveler, please wait a moment while I take care of a private matter. I'm sure you're as tired of this damn brat as I am. I'll deal with him right now. Then, I'll properly tell you about the unforgettable experience of my youth," Baika said, standing up and smiling at Wilder. Wilder returned the smile and nodded.
It was unclear if the young man was just dense or what, but even at this point, he didn't seem to realize something was wrong. Instead, with a face swollen like a pig's head, he pointed at Baika and said doubtfully, "See, you clearly said it was unforgettable. That contradicts what you said before."
"Ultimate Finishing Move—Pipe Rod Head Pummel—Dance of the One Hundred and Forty-Eight!" A poetic-sounding move name erupted from Baika's throat! He leaped into the air, bringing his pipe down on the young man's head!
"…"
After a series of blood-curdling screams, the young man's face had completely surpassed the pig-head stage and now resembled a steamed bun—the kind that gets stuck together in a big lump when you don't place it right in the steamer.
"I swear I won't ask… won't interrupt… Grandpa Baika," the young man said, sitting up straight and facing the wall. His eyes were swollen shut by flesh, making it impossible for him to see.
Baika sat back down by the courtyard gate, took a puff, and tapped out the ash. He then took out the pack of cigarettes Wilder had given him, opened it, lit one, and took a drag. An expression of pure bliss, like he'd just experienced some kind of pleasant exercise, spread across his face. He took several more satisfying puffs before he began to speak.
"It was a monster with a body similar to a snake. It was very far away from me at the time, and because of the trees, I couldn't see it clearly. But just from that one glance, I could tell how big it was."
"How big?" Wilder asked.
Baika took a drag from his cigarette. "Let me put it this way. Behind the monster was a tree that was several hundred years old. You know, people like us who deal with the forest every day can roughly tell a tree's age at a glance. It would take at least ten people with their arms outstretched to barely wrap around that tree. But that monster, with just one roll, snapped that tree in half. Its body was at least five times the size of that tree."
"Terrifying strength," Wilder commented.
Baika nodded. "Yes. Judging by its size, even if it were five times bigger, it shouldn't have been able to snap that tree. That can only mean the monster's strength is far greater than its size would suggest. And the most terrifying part is…"
Baika looked around mysteriously and lowered his voice. "Do you know about Divine Dragons?"
"Divine Dragons?" Wilder put on a perfectly cooperative look of surprise.
Baika sat back again and nodded with certainty. "I suspect that monster is actually a Divine Dragon from the legends. Because in that fleeting glimpse, I saw a pair of large horns. Divine Dragons have horns, right?"
"They do," Wilder said with absolute certainty.
"So, that monster is actually the Divine Dragon of legend! Except it's not as friendly as the stories say. It eats humans! And it likes to eat humans!"
"I'd like to go and see that 'Divine Dragon' for myself," Wilder said with a smile.
The hand Baika was raising to his mouth froze. The pig-headed, steamed-bun boy turned away from the wall.