"Pain." I struggled to articulate, each syllable forced through a throat tight with emotion. "Adventure. Uta. Destruction." My voice faltered, the desperate urgency of my words coming out in jagged fragments, almost unintelligible to human ears. I fought to convey the vivid, haunting vision that had been seared into my mind—images of a once-magnificent kingdom, now reduced to ruins and chaos. I glanced at Shanks, searching for understanding in his gaze as I attempted to piece together the fragments of my thoughts, to communicate the overwhelming sense of loss and the weight of impending doom that clung to me like a shadow.
Shanks furrowed his brows, a contemplative expression washing over his face as he absorbed my words. "Something is going to happen when we go on an adventure?" he echoed, his voice laced with disbelief. The worry etched in his features deepened as I mentioned Uta, the name alone stirring a whirlwind of emotions within him. "Something related to Uta... and it leads to destruction."
He leaned forward, the weight of his responsibility as a father evident in his posture. The concern for his daughter was palpable in the tense silence that followed, casting a shadow over his usually gentle demeanor. With each passing moment, I could see him grappling with the implications of my message, his mind racing through the possibilities of what could happen to Uta. The air between us crackled with urgency as he recognized the potential danger lurking in our future adventures.
His demeanor was as if he had flipped a switch from day to night. When I had told him about the prophecy about losing his arm, he displayed an air of indifference, even laughing at how the fates would play out. It was as if he found amusement in destiny, unconcerned by its implications. However, the moment the conversation shifted to the potential dangers faced by those he loved, his entire being transformed. The lightheartedness vanished, replaced by a profound intensity. His eyes, usually sparkling with mirth, now reflected deep concern and protectiveness. The weight of responsibility settled upon him, revealing the fierce loyalty and love that drove him to care deeply for the well-being of those under his name.
"Kingdom. Song. Uta. Sing," I began, attempting to convey the essence of our quest. The motivation behind our adventure was clear: we were determined to reach the enchanting kingdom of song, a place where melodies and dreams intertwined, all to support Uta in her pursuit of her passion for music. Her dream was not just a personal aspiration; it was a calling that resonated deeply within her soul. However, our journey to Elegia, the peaceful land where her dreams could flourish, would be her demise.
A sudden flash of realization struck Shanks like a bolt of lightning. "We were planning to visit Elegia…" he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as his eyes widened with dawning horror. The vivid dream that had haunted me for nights on end was more than just a figment of my imagination; it was an ominous glimpse into the future.
Shanks's body showed signs of tension. "Something catastrophic occurs when we visit Elegia, something that ultimately leads to the kingdom's destruction," Shanks manages to make the correct conclusion, the weight of his words hanging heavily in the air. Each piece of the puzzle fell into place, but instead of clarity, Shanks showed an expression of dread—an urgent need to prevent the impending calamity that loomed on the horizon.
"Yes," I whispered, my voice trembling as fresh tears threatened to spill from my eyes. Though I had managed to dry my cheeks moments earlier, the memories surged back with a vengeance, pulling on my heart like an anchor. "Pain. Intense. hurts."
I struggled to articulate what haunted me—this was no ordinary night terror from which I could simply awaken. It was something far more profound, a visceral agony rooted in the suffering of countless dying citizens. Their physical pain and emotional torment reverberated within me, echoing in my mind like a relentless, ghostly chorus. I could almost hear their cries, feel their despair, and it taunted me mercilessly, as if daring me to look away.
Would the visions return, bringing with them more anguish and confusion? This so-called "gift" of prophecy felt more like a curse, looming ominously over my future. The thought filled me with dread: Would I have to bear the weight of every soul I encountered in my future sights? Would I have to live through the torment, the sorrow, and the heartbreak of each individual, trapped in their horror with no way to save them? The prospect left me shaken, a deep, gnawing fear echoing within me, further driving me towards the thought of death's embrace. Warped in my depression, I neglected to realize how silent the room was.
"Make. Stop. Die." The tears that had been building up inside me after I had managed to rein them in finally spilled over once more. I wished for a release I had both longed for and dreaded. I understood how selfish it might seem, but the mere thought of enduring anything even remotely similar to what I had already faced sent a chill of terror straight to my bones. I would rather experience nothingness than constantly live in a state of anxiety, worrying that I might drift off to sleep only to be haunted by a prophetic dream. The fear lingered like a shadow, a relentless reminder of the fragility of my entire being. Each night could become a battleground, where the prospect of sinking into unconsciousness filled me with apprehension, as if dreams held the power to unravel everything, to where I would lose not just my sanity but everything.
"No," Shanks replied, his voice cutting through the air with a chilling intensity that felt like it could freeze me, causing me to tremble. There was no softness in his tone, only an unwavering conviction that dismissed my greatest, most desperate wish. "Stupid. Death isn't the solution to your problems; it's merely an escape, a way to run away from them. You don't need to confront your struggles head-on, but completely avoiding the problem before you even try is not an option." He leaned in closer, his eyes locking onto mine with an intensity that was both intimidating and oddly comforting. "Once you join my crew, your life isn't just yours anymore. It belongs to me. Your decisions—especially the ones that lead towards self-harm—are no longer solely in your hands. I won't allow you to harm yourself. My role as your Captain is to protect you, even if it's from yourself."