Local time is 16:00 on August 26th, Iceland, Reykjavik.
Two hundred meters above the Pearl Building, a white-haired teenager in a hoodie sat on a two-meter-long shark, gripping its dorsal fin as the chilly city winds whipped across his face and sent his snow-white hair flaring upward.
The surface of the shark's body was wrapped in a layer of dark blue water, which held it suspended in mid-air like a small aircraft, heading straight against the cold wind.
In no time, Yaguba gently landed with Cezar down to the city's bottom level.
In a desolate alleyway, its size quickly shrank into a small Nobel Shark and then hopped into Cezar's pocket.
"Sharky is hungry, wants to eat something." The little shark popped its head out of the pocket, mumbling.
"Don't rush, let's find a place to stay first," Cezar said, "Why do you always look for food first every time we enter a new city?"
