Naren almost didn't realize the lack of words, focusing so clearly on the body peacefully floating along. He thought, how nice it would be to nap like that.
Prisoners began murmuring, which then turned into shouting, until they each began dragging themselves around, half-heartedly trying to attack the Sergeant. Though, they didn't get far, maybe a foot before the head of the prisoner rolled onto the ground.
Bolka slipped his sword back into it's sheath by his side, making sure to shake the blood off beforehand.
'Wow, guess he isn't all bark.'
By now, A couple more soldiers had gathered, putting an end to the feeble thoughts of rebellion the prisoners once had. Now they all fell in line, more or less, awaiting their doomed fate.
The head eventually rolled in between the soldier and Vera's feet before coming to a stop. The man looked down at the head, then back at Vera who was still fixed onto him. He quickly covered Vera's eyes and turned towards Bolka.
'Oh that's the girl who takes the beatings. What was her name?'
"Who gave you the order?"
Bolka's eyes were visibly shaking. He meekly brought his hands to his head in a salute.
"N-no one Sergeant."
"Don't do anything unsettling to our guests again."
The Sergeant kicked the head towards Bolka, jolting his head towards the sea, urging him to throw it and the body overboard.
"Understand, private?"
"Yes sir, Sergeant."
As Bolka moved along, the Sergeant began his speech.
"I'm sorry for that, but I assure you none of you will die. You will simply act as bait while I deal the killing blow to the beast, nothing to worry about."
The smile on his face was in clear opposition to the words he just said. Naren was sure of it now: It's the smile. He didn't care for the Sergeant before hand, planning on just taking a spare dinghy and escaping, but after seeing that awful smirk, he just couldn't help but feel annoyed.
"No questions I pres—"
"You a shaman?"
The Sergeant paused for a bit before speaking.
"You look familiar, when did you join us?"
"You know how I'm supposed to enter a marchen?"
The man didn't respond. Instead, the smile on his face seemed to grow more gentle and warm with each passing moment of disrespect from Naren. It really irked him. His face growing a little disgusted in return.
"Are you an aspirant by chance?"
"A what? Listen I just wanna know, I heard you can get really strong through them."
The Sergeant sighed looking at the other prisoners.
"The younger they are, the more they dream, right?"
He turned right back to Naren.
"Anyone who's fated to enter a marchen will do so regardless of what they want. And to answer your question, I'm a third-class shaman."
Of course Naren knew what an Aspirant was — A human who made a pact but hadn't entered a marchen yet. While they do still have a little bit of the powers their pact would give them, they're still considerably weaker than even the lowest class of shaman, a third-class. Alice would drill these terminologies into his head. Completely omitting anything useful to finding his sister.
Along with so much more: A fable was the powers the shaman inherited from the beast and a spite was what they had to give up on their end of the contract, just like how he's always forgotten. He shook his head remembering the grueling days she would spend lecturing him.
That being said, Naren decided to let the Sergeant live this time. A shaman would be too much work to deal with now. But he promised that once he himself became a shaman, he'd return the favor to the amiable Sergeant.
"Anything else?"
"Nah."
By now the little girl — Vera, that was it — was looking at Naren intently. Her face was full of questions, probably along the line of: Is he crazy?
Naren looked right back at her, making a face instead, juxtaposing the serious expression she had on. Completely, catching her off guard, she almost laughed before stopping herself and looking at the Sergeant to make sure he didn't see.
"If there's nothing else, then feel free to have some food. It'll be a lot of hard work soon."
A group of soldiers brought about bowls of pure mush, placing them in front of each prisoner like it was some luxury meal. Boris was the first to sit after getting his meal. The others followed suit, Vera ending up right next to Naren, all of them huddled in a circle.
"I tried to nab some bread for you, but I lost it. Sorry Vera."
Naren watched as Vera waved him off. The other prisoners all produced gifts of their own: A red fruit, some white powder that smelled sweet, even another, albeit smaller, piece of bread. Each forcibly placing it on Vera's plate, despite her protest.
Naren watched with jealousy as he continued eating his own slop. At least this was a million times better than what he was forced to eat inside the whale.
"Who's that, Vera?"
"You know him?"
A hand reached out and placed a red fruit in front of him. Naren looked up to see Vera staring directly at him.
"You should have some too."
He took the apple and shoved a big bite into his mouth before Vera could regret her decision. Watching him struggle to chew through the piece too big for his mouth, the little girl began to giggle.
"I won't take it from you."
"Ah cahn beh shur."
Her giggling grew a bit more prominent before Naren swallowed and flicked her forehead.
"What's so funny."
Vera held her forehead, scowling at Naren.
"Ow! What the heck."
She grabbed the rest of the apple from Naren, and ate the rest right in front of him.
"Yo, what the hell. You gave that to me."
"You don't deserve it."
Vera stuck a tongue out at Naren.
Naren reached over and grabbed the bread by Vera that she hadn't gotten to yet. Shoving the entire thing into his mouth.
Vera lunged at him, pushing him over and grabbing his shoulder while repeatedly shaking him.
"Give it back you fatso."
Naren pealed Vera off him, holding her still. Before he could even get a word out the other prisoners all lunged at him, causing him to drop her. Each of them piled on top of him.
A soldier came running by, pulling the men off Naren one by one. At the very bottom, Naren laid sprawled out, leisurely chewing the tough bread he stole. Watching the soldier scold and beat some of the prisoners before making his way towards him.
"Hey! why are you making so much trouble!"
"You're pretty strong then."
The soldier looked confused, then kicking him anyway. Naren came to learn that the more willful someone was led to remembering him for a little longer.
"Make sure you watch your tongue next time bastard. Sergeant First-Class Zaki isn't the most forgiving.
Then the soldier crouched down until he was eye level with Naren. Slightly taken aback by his dreadful aura. He was drawn into Naren's golden eyes for just a second before he snapped back to reality.
A giant ocean in darkness covered the entire horizon. Everything was engulfed in shadows except for one little candle flickering. The candle illuminated a pair of arms. Bruised and battered, the ligaments shackled. Shadows concealed everything past the forearm. However, two golden bulbs could be seen. Shining.
Naren stood a couple feet away from the creature. Slowly sinking into the dark murky waters. He whipped his head around, muffled breathing escaping from the waters as his mouth submerged. He tried moving his body, but it wouldn't respond.
The creature spoke in a raspy echoing tone. One that could be felt in the bones.
"Tomb of Atlas."
Naren's eyes pulled in by the beading yellow eyes in the shadows. For a second he considered not saying anything. But there were times when you're brain and body betray each other. Another muffled voice came from the waters.
"Sis?"
Then with another blink Naren was back on the ship. The soldier staring directly into his eyes, continuing exactly where he left off.
"Afterall, he's the only shaman to survive that hell hole — The tomb of Atlas."