33. The Blade of the Cutlassfish
The Electric Kraken stirred again, this time sharpening its massive legs into conical points, charging toward us with the ferocity of a medieval knight wielding a lance.
Its speed was relentless, like a steam locomotive barreling at full force.
By what could only be described as divine luck, Jinri and I narrowly dodged the attack.
But we didn't escape unscathed.
The vortex created by its charge churned the electric sea, sweeping us up and dragging us, spinning, deep into its depths, as if we were powerless clumps of water defying physical laws.
"Jinri!"
Worried for her safety, I frantically scanned the surroundings.
But dense bubbles clouded my vision like fog, obscuring nearly everything.
I tried using infrared and ultrasonic wavelengths, but whether the Kraken was intentionally emitting jamming signals or not, I couldn't locate Jinri. My visual sensors were useless, and panic surged.
Worry turned to sorrow, and that sorrow instantly morphed into anger.
In that moment, I realized something.
Sorrow and anger are like identical twins.
When they intertwine, an aggressive impulse is born.
I made up my mind.
I had to defeat this Electric Kraken.
I had to *kill* it.
But what could a puny humanoid robot boy do?
With barely any combat experience and still grappling with memory loss in this sea of oblivion, what could a frail, sickly being like me possibly achieve against what might be the mightiest mechanical creature in Tropical Night City?
Still, I refused to be bound by fixed notions.
I had to act first.
I had to face the fear and close the distance, or nothing would begin.
Channeling my anger into propulsion, I swam toward the Kraken.
Fortunately, it was too focused on chasing Jinri or the cutlassfish to notice me. There was no sign of its grotesque, sucker-covered legs reaching for me.
Like a ninja, I cautiously yet swiftly closed in on the Kraken.
I circled behind it.
Getting spotted by that massive, human-like eye on its head would be bad news.
Then again, the suckers on its legs functioned as eyes too, capturing visual data.
I couldn't let my guard down.
There was no time to dawdle.
Every creature has a weakness—likely the head or the heart.
I considered which to target.
I had no idea where its heart was or how to find it. The head, however, was clearly visible, within arm's reach.
I made my decision.
I'd attack the Kraken's head.
But I had no weapon.
There couldn't possibly be a physical weapon in this electric sea—or so I thought until something caught my eye.
A cutlassfish.
Not an ordinary one.
These moved and shimmered as if they'd come from beyond our solar system, from the Andromeda Galaxy.
Swimming vertically, their silver bodies traced elegant curves like a master calligrapher's brushstrokes. A few approached me, and one in particular—large, radiating dazzling photons—came closer, slowly but surely, as if it had chosen me.
Its tail gradually transformed, reshaping into a handle that felt natural and comfortable in my grip.
Without hesitation, I seized the cutlassfish blade.
A flood of sensations surged through me.
The memories and values of countless swordsmen who had wielded this blade poured in like a torrent. The thoughts of warriors and swordsmen who'd made their mark in Tropical Night City seeped into every actuator, every transistor of my CPU.
In that moment, I understood.
I finally grasped why I'd been afflicted with memory loss.
It was for this moment.
To inherit the memories of Tropical Night City's swordsmen.
My past memories—precious, irreplaceable, perhaps—were secondary to a higher calling, a destiny.
Yes, everything was for this: to wield this cutlassfish blade and defeat the Electric Kraken.
I realized.
"This was my fate."
And,
"This was the reason."
Here, I deeply understood that reason and fate were synonymous.
I stared at the cutlassfish blade resting on my shoulder.
I wasn't yet actively gripping it. I'd been chosen by fate, passively forced to take it up—it wasn't fully mine yet.
Without hesitation, I brought my other hand to it, finally grasping the blade firmly with both hands.
I swung it through the electric sea.
Electron particles burst like carbonated bubbles, scattering light and spreading a vivid electric thrill around me.
Slicing through the water, it felt as if I were vividly parting the surface.
Moving in air should be far easier than in this medium.
But this electric sea was made of electron water. The buoyancy and resistance slightly hindered my movements.
Yet, with this cutlassfish blade in hand, something—its unknown properties—made moving through the electric sea six times lighter.
It was like a human, bound by Earth's gravity, suddenly transported to the moon, where gravity is a sixth as strong, skipping across the surface like an innocent seven-year-old, filled with buoyant joy.
I swam as if skipping underwater, preparing to attack.
Raising the blade high above my head, I took aim.
The Electric Kraken still ignored me, swimming leisurely, oblivious to my presence.
Targeting the center of its vast head, I swung the blade down with force, like hammering a nail.
Sharply, vertically.
The blade pierced deeply into the Kraken's head, tearing through.
Its skin—if you could call it that—cracked, as if a newborn creature, emerging from its chrysalis, were breaking through its old shell to soar into a beautiful world.
From that fissure, radiant golden Kraken blood erupted like a fountain.