Howard pushed himself up from the splintered wooden floor of the Santa Isabella, his face still stinging from Skadi's unexpected landing.
He brushed off his black overcoat, adjusting his red tie as he stood, but inside, he was a storm of conflicting emotions.
The sight of Skadi—one of his favorite characters from Arknights—standing before him was nothing short of magnificent.
She was a 10/10 beauty in his eyes.
Her long, silvery-white hair shimmered like moonlight, her deep crimson eyes glowed with a feral intensity, and her pale skin contrasted sharply with her black and red combat suit, its intricate patterns hinting at her Aegir heritage.
The massive, jagged sword on her back and her slightly tilted black hat only added to her commanding presence as an Abyssal Hunter, a Seaborn-Aegir hybrid built for combat.
But this was the wrong moment for such admiration—terribly, horribly wrong.
Did she see me?
Howard thought, his heart racing as he trembled internally.
If Skadi had witnessed what he'd done—his transformation into that Nethersea Brand-fueled Seaborn form, his role in Gavriel and Maria's escape, the portal he'd opened—she'd have questions he couldn't answer.
Forget about leaving this place alive; he could kiss his job goodbye.
Laterano wouldn't take kindly to someone meddling with Seaborn forces, even if it was to resolve a crisis.
His mind raced with worst-case scenarios, his palms sweating as he tried to gauge her expression.
Skadi, however, seemed oblivious to his inner turmoil.
She looked around the waterlogged hold, her crimson eyes scanning the shattered glass container, the unconscious Sankta slumped against the walls, and the faint bioluminescent glow still lingering in the air.
She turned to Howard, bowing slightly, her voice calm but carrying the weight of her Aegir upbringing.
"My apologies for the… abrupt landing," she said, her tone formal yet tinged with sincerity. She straightened, her hat tilting slightly as she met his gaze.
"I sensed a Seaborn presence here—strong, ancient. What happened?"
Howard exhaled, relieved that she hadn't seen his transformation, though he kept his guard up. He ran a hand through his dark hair, his voice steady but tinged with exhaustion as he explained.
"My team and I—some Laterano members and I—came here in search of Gavriel Sanctus, the person responsible for the mass kidnapping of Sankta. We tracked him down to this ship, the Santa Isabella, and discovered he'd found an extremely rare Seaborn species: a Siren."
Skadi's crimson eyes narrowed slightly at the mention of a Siren, her hand instinctively resting on the hilt of her sword, but she nodded for him to continue.
"He fell in love with her," Howard went on, his tone heavy with the weight of the tragedy he'd witnessed.
"Gavriel tried to make her into a Sankta by having her consume their flesh, hoping for a reverse evolution—something to bridge the gap between them. But it wasn't the only Seaborn here."
"There was a Pathfinder, a bipedal Seaborn tasked with evolutionary proliferation. To buy time for the others to confront Gavriel, I made a path for them, holding off the Pathfinder. I was lucky—it had no intention to fight me."
He paused, his red eyes flickering with the memory of the confrontation.
"It followed us to where everyone was. The Siren… she had a strange power, a hypnotic voice. Most of the team fell asleep, unable to resist".
"I barely held on. At the last moment, Gavriel made his choice—he asked the Siren to make him a Seaborn, to join her in her world. They transformed together, and then… they disappeared."
Howard's voice grew quieter, his gaze dropping to the floor.
"But now we're stuck at the bottom of the sea. The Siren's water bubble—the one keeping this ship intact—it's going to disappear soon. When it does, the pressure will crush everyone."
Skadi had been nodding as he spoke, her crimson eyes sharp with understanding, her expression unreadable but attentive.
She'd dealt with Seaborn before—her life as an Abyssal Hunter had been defined by hunting them, understanding their nature, and surviving their horrors.
She spoke, her voice calm but firm.
"My coworker and I have a ship nearby. We can help you get back to the surface."
Howard's eyes widened, a wave of relief washing over him as he dropped to his knees, comedic tears streaming down his face as he clasped his hands together.
"Thank you, Skadi!" He cried, his voice a mix of gratitude and exhaustion.
"You have no idea how much this means—I thought we were done for!"
Skadi blinked, her crimson eyes widening slightly as she took a step back, visibly shocked by the display.
She'd faced Seaborn monstrosities, survived the depths of the abyss, and fought alongside the likes of Specter and Gladiia, but this—this peculiar man crying at her feet—was something entirely new.
Her hat tilted as she tilted her head, her expression a mix of confusion and curiosity, unsure how to respond to such an emotional outburst.
Howard wiped his tears, standing up with a sheepish grin, though his exhaustion was still evident in the slump of his shoulders. It was time to go home—finally.
He just hoped there'd be no more surprises on the way out.
***
Skadi and Gladiia had brought the Santa Isabella and its survivors back to the surface using their ship, a sleek Aegir vessel designed for navigating the treacherous depths.
The Abyssal Hunters' ship was a marvel of Aegir engineering, its hull reinforced with materials that shimmered like mother-of-pearl, its engines humming with a quiet, otherworldly power as it towed the decayed Iberian ship into the sunlight.
The salty air was a welcome relief after the oppressive darkness of the ocean floor, and the faint warmth of the sun filtered through the clouds, casting a golden glow over the scene.
Executor and Lemuen had long regained consciousness, the effects of the Siren's hypnotic voice fading as they breathed in the fresh air.
The remaining Sankta, though weak, were beginning to stir, their halos flickering back to life, their golden eyes blinking in the light.
While Howard and Lemuen spoke with Skadi and Gladiia on the deck of the Aegir ship, Executor was tending to the Sankta, his grey eyes sharp with focus as he moved among them.
His white hair gleamed in the sunlight, his dark coat was pristine despite the ordeal, and his white wings were folded neatly against his back.
As a Laterano executor, he was methodical, checking each Sankta's pulse, ensuring their halos were stabilizing, and administering basic first aid with the precision of someone bound by duty.
His halo glowed steadily, a sign of his unwavering commitment to Laterano's laws, even after the chaos they'd endured.
Howard and Lemuen stood near the railing of the Aegir ship, the Santa Isabella secured alongside, as they spoke with the two Abyssal Hunters, an imposing pair.
Skadi's silvery-white hair flowed in the breeze, her crimson eyes calm but observant, her black and red combat suit clinging to her pale frame.
Gladiia, equally striking, stood beside her, her long white hair tied back in a loose ponytail, its silver strands shimmering like sunlight on water.
Her deep blue-red eyes were sharp and analytical, her pale skin marked with faint Aegir scales along her arms, a testament to her Seaborn heritage.
She wore a sleek, dark blue outfit with white accents, a long coat draped over her shoulders, and her weapon—a rapier-like blade—hung at her side, its hilt engraved with Aegir runes.
Her presence was regal yet predatory, her movements fluid as she surveyed the scene, her Abyssal Hunter instincts on high alert.
Howard bowed slightly, his voice sincere as he expressed his gratitude once more.
"Thank you again for your help. We wouldn't have made it out of there without you and your ship."
Skadi tilted her head, her black hat shifting slightly, her crimson eyes softening as she replied, "It is nothing much."
Her tone was formal, but there was a hint of warmth beneath her stoic exterior, a rare glimpse of the Aegir's quiet compassion.
As Howard and Lemuen turned to leave, Skadi's gaze lingered on Howard, her crimson eyes narrowing slightly. She spoke softly to Gladiia, her voice low so the others wouldn't hear.
"Can you feel it, Gladiia? There's something… odd about that man."
Gladiia's blue eyes followed Howard, her expression unreadable as she nodded.
"I can sense it," she said, her voice smooth but tinged with suspicion.
"He's clearly not a Seaborn, but he feels like one—there's a trace of their essence on him. Either he's hiding it remarkably well, or he's something else entirely."
She paused, her hand resting on the hilt of her rapier as she considered the implications.
"We should speak with Ulpianus about this. He might have insight into what we're dealing with."
The two Abyssal Hunters shared a glance, their instincts as Seaborn hunters urging caution, before they turned and began their journey back to their own quarters on the ship, their steps silent against the pearlescent deck.
Howard stood beside Lemuen on the Santa Isabella's deck as they watched Executor tend to the Sankta, his dark overcoat billowing slightly in the breeze, his red tie a stark contrast against his waistcoat.
He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small object—a cube on a chain, its surface etched with faint Sankta runes, glowing softly with a residual energy.
He handed it to Lemuen, his voice quiet but firm.
"This belonged to Gavriel. It should at least serve as some sort of proof of what happened here."
Lemuen took the cube, her fingers tracing its edges, her blue eyes clouding with emotion as she held it.
Her pink braid swayed as she looked down, her wheelchair steady on the uneven deck.
She was still unable to move on from the incident, her mind replaying every moment—the Siren's haunting voice, Gavriel's descent into madness, his transformation, and his choice to leave with Maria.
She was deep in contemplation, her thoughts a tangle of guilt, sorrow, and understanding.
Howard placed a hand on her shoulder, his voice gentle but steady.
"Don't overthink it, Lemuel. People sometimes take actions we can't understand."
"Everyone has their own circumstances. Maria chose to believe in Gavriel, and he chose to let go of everything to be with her."
"You don't have to accept his choice—it's not your burden to carry. Even though I know it's in your nature as Sankta to feel for others, you have a life of your own."
Lemuen let out a soft chuckle, her blue eyes glistening with unshed tears as she glanced back at the cube in her hand, then at Howard.
"You're right," she said, her voice soft but resolute. She looked back at the ocean, the waves glinting in the sunlight, and a small smile tugged at her lips.
"Thank you, Howard. Maybe this is the small blessing I got for meeting you."
Howard smiled faintly, nodding as they turned to leave, their mission complete but their hearts heavy with the weight of what they'd witnessed.
Together, they headed back to Laterano, the journey long but necessary, a return to the heart of Sankta culture to report their findings and honor those who had been lost.
***
In Laterano, a grand funeral was held for the Sankta who hadn't survived the ordeal, their halos dimmed forever, their wings stilled.
The cathedral in Pagus Stevonus was filled with mourners, their halos glowing softly in unison, a somber hymn echoing through the halls as they paid their respects.
It was a moment of closure, a reminder of the cost of Gavriel's actions, but also a testament to the resilience of the Sankta, their faith unshaken even in the face of tragedy.
Before the funeral prayers could take place in the grand cathedral of Pagus Stevonus, Howard was ushered to a private meeting with the Pope, Yvangelista XI, in a quiet courtyard behind the church.
The air was heavy with the scent of incense and the faint tolling of bells, a somber reminder of the lives lost to Gavriel's actions.
The courtyard was adorned with white flowers, their petals a symbol of mourning in Laterano, and the gathered Sankta stood in respectful silence, their halos glowing softly in the dim light of the early evening.
Mostima, Executor, Lemuen, and—much to Howard's surprise—Fiammetta were present, all dressed in traditional Laterano funeral attire.
Mostima's long blue hair was tied back, her blue eyes calm but tinged with sorrow, her black horns and fallen halo marking her as a Sankta who had broken the sacred laws.
She wore a simple black dress with gold trim, her staff resting against a nearby bench, its blue gemstone dim in the somber setting.
Executor stood tall, his white hair neatly combed, his grey eyes sharp as ever, his white wings folded against his black funeral robes, and his halo glowing steadily despite the weight of the occasion.
Lemuen sat in her wheelchair, her pink braid neatly arranged, her blue eyes reflective as she wore a black dress with white accents, her sniper rifle absent out of respect for the ceremony.
Fiammetta, the fiery Liberi operator from Arknights, stood with her arms crossed, her presence a surprise to Howard.
Her appearance was true to her lore: her short, fiery orange hair framed her sharp, golden eyes, which burned with a mix of determination and grief.
Her red tail feathers flicked slightly, a sign of her Liberi heritage, and her skin was lightly tanned, a contrast to her black funeral attire—a fitted jacket and trousers with subtle gold embroidery, her massive autocannons replaced with a simple mourning sash across her chest.
Her expression was hard, but her eyes softened as they met Howard's, a silent acknowledgment of the shared tragedy they'd averted.
The Pope, Yvangelista XI, sat on a stone bench, his white robes pristine, his halo glowing with a radiant light that spoke of his divine authority.
His aged face was kind but weary, the weight of leadership evident in his gentle golden eyes. He gestured for Howard to sit beside him, his voice warm as he spoke.
"We owe you a great debt, Howard. Because of your actions, we were able to stop more tragedies from befalling our people.
The Sankta you saved, the truth you uncovered—it has brought us closure, even in this time of mourning."
Howard sat, his dark overcoat slightly rumpled from the journey, his red tie a stark contrast against his waistcoat.
He smiled faintly, his voice humble as he replied, "It's all right, Your Holiness. I was glad to assist."
Mostima, Executor, Lemuen, and Fiammetta stepped forward, their expressions a mix of gratitude and respect.
Mostima spoke first, her voice soft but sincere, a faint smile on her lips.
"Thank you, Howard. You've done more for us than we could have asked."
Executor nodded, his gray eyes steady, while Lemuen's blue eyes shimmered with emotion, her hands clutching the cube Howard had given her.
Fiammetta uncrossed her arms, her golden eyes meeting his as she added gruffly, "You've got guts. Not many would face a siren and live to tell the tale."
Howard nodded, his heart warmed by their words, but he knew his time in Laterano was at an end.
"I appreciate that, all of you. But it's time for me to go."
The Pope held up a hand, his voice gentle but firm.
"Before you leave, I have something to give you."
He opened his hand, revealing a small ring, its silver surface engraved with the emblem of Laterano—a stylized halo and wings, a symbol of the Sankta's faith and unity.
"This ring bears our emblem," the Pope explained, placing it in Howard's hand.
"If you ever return to Laterano and find yourself in need of assistance, it will be beneficial. Show it to any Sankta, and they will know you are a friend of our people."
Howard took the ring, slipping it onto his finger, its weight a comforting reminder of the bonds he'd forged.
"I'm truly appreciative, Your Holiness," he said, his voice sincere. He turned to Mostima, a playful glint in his red eyes as he added,
"Before I go, Mostima, if you ever need my help again, just ask normally, okay? No more dragging me into things without warning."
Mostima chuckled, her blue eyes sparkling with amusement as she leaned on her staff. "I will," she promised, her voice light despite the somber occasion.
With a final nod to the group, Howard turned to leave, his steps steady as he walked through the courtyard, the faint sound of the funeral hymns beginning to rise from the cathedral.
It was time to go back to Lungmen, to return to the life he'd left behind before this unexpected journey had begun.
In Laterano, the grand funeral proceeded, the cathedral in Pagus Stevonus filled with mourners, their halos glowing softly in unison, a somber hymn echoing through the halls as they paid their respects to the fallen Sankta.
It was a moment of closure, a testament to the resilience of the Sankta, their faith unshaken even in the face of tragedy.
***
A week had passed since Howard's return to Lungmen from Laterano, the events of the Santa Isabella still lingering in his mind but slowly fading into the background of his daily life.
He now stood in front of Ch'en's office in the Lungmen Guard Department headquarters, alongside Hoshiguma, the towering Oni operator who served as one of Ch'en's most trusted allies.
The office was on one of the upper floors, its glass door offering a clear view of Ch'en hunched over her desk, surrounded by stacks of paperwork, her blue hair tied back in a messy bun, her crimson eyes focused but weary.
Howard and Hoshiguma exchanged a glance before stepping away from the glass, settling onto a bench a short distance from the office.
The atmosphere was grave—Howard could see that Ch'en, like him, desperately needed a break.
So many things had happened in the past months: the chaos in Lungmen, the incident in Laterano, and the Seaborn threat.
Neither of them had taken a moment to breathe, and it was showing.
Ch'en's desk was littered with empty coffee cups, a testament to her reliance on caffeine to push through the exhaustion.
Hoshiguma, her green hair tied back in a high ponytail, nodded in agreement, her yellow eyes serious.
"I've never seen Ch'en take that much caffeine in a day," she said, her voice low but laced with concern.
"She's even using makeup to hide the bags under her eyes. It's not healthy."
Howard, his dark overcoat slightly rumpled, his red tie loosened after a long day, leaned back on the bench, his red eyes reflecting a mix of concern and determination.
"You're right," he said, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he turned to Hoshiguma.
"So, do you agree with my plan now?"
Hoshiguma sighed, her broad shoulders slumping slightly as she crossed her arms, her Oni horns catching the light.
"Yes," she admitted, her tone reluctant but resigned.
"She won't listen to reason otherwise." She stood, her towering frame casting a shadow over Howard as she added, "Meet me at the car, then."
With that, she walked off, her steps heavy but purposeful, heading toward the parking lot to prepare for their plan.
Howard stood with a smile, adjusting his overcoat before stepping up to Ch'en's office door.
He knocked lightly, his voice calm as he called out, "Ch'en, it's Howard."
"Come in," Ch'en replied, her voice muffled but firm, though there was an unmistakable edge of exhaustion in her tone.
Howard stepped inside, closing the door behind him.
Ch'en's office was a mess—papers strewn across her desk, a half-empty coffee cup precariously balanced on a stack of files, and her sword, Hui-chieh, resting against the wall within arm's reach.
Ch'en herself looked worn, her blue dragon tail flicking slightly in agitation, her crimson eyes rimmed with fatigue despite the makeup she'd used to conceal it.
She wore her standard LGD uniform, the blue and white fabric slightly wrinkled, a testament to the long hours she'd been putting in.
Howard greeted her with a nod, his voice gentle as he asked, "How are things going?"
Ch'en didn't look up from her paperwork, her pen scratching against the page as she replied,
"Not bad, but the workload has tripled since the last incident. I'd better finish early if I want to get any sleep tonight."
Her tone was brisk, but the strain was evident, her shoulders tense as she pushed through another report.
Howard walked over to the window behind her desk, his movements casual as he slid it open, letting in a rush of cool Lungmen air.
He glanced back at Ch'en, his expression softening as he whispered, "I'm sorry, Ch'en."
Before she could react, he moved swiftly, wrapping an arm around her stomach and grabbing her sword, Chi Xiao, with his other hand.
In one fluid motion, he leapt out the window, Ch'en in his grasp, the city skyline of Lungmen stretching out below them.
Ch'en's eyes widened in shock, her voice rising in a yell as she struggled against him.
"Howard, what the hell are you doing?!"
Something extraordinary happened as they fell—Howard's form began to shift, his body shimmering with a faint glow as he transformed.
His human shape melted away, replaced by that of a gigantic eagle, its feathers a deep brown with streaks of gold, its wingspan wide enough to cast a shadow over the street below.
His red eyes remained sharp and focused as he used his powerful claws to gently lay Ch'en on his back, securing her in place as he soared upward, the wind rushing past them.
Ch'en, now clinging to his feathery back, her blue hair whipping in the wind, was still in complete shock, her crimson eyes wide as she processed what had just happened.
Howard's voice, now deeper and resonating through his avian form, spoke to her, calm but firm.
"You've been working too much, Ch'en. It's time to take a rest."
He continued, his tone reassuring as he glided through the air.
"Don't worry about it. Swire's covering for you for a while."
Ch'en's grip tightened on his feathers, her dragon tail curling slightly as she sighed, her exhaustion finally catching up to her.
She wanted to say so much—to protest, to demand he take her back—but the rhythmic beat of Howard's wings and the cool air against her face lulled her into a rare moment of peace.
She decided to rest, her head resting against his back as she let the tension drain from her body, the city of Lungmen shrinking beneath them.
They soared through the air in silence, the journey swift as Howard's eagle form carried them toward their destination.
Before long, they reached the site—a quiet clearing just outside Lungmen, where Hoshiguma waited by a car packed with supplies.
Hoshiguma had known what to pack, her practical nature ensuring they had everything they'd need for a proper break.
She stood by the vehicle, her green hair tied back, her yellow eyes glinting with amusement as she watched Howard descend, Ch'en still on his back.
Howard landed gracefully, his eagle form shimmering as he transformed back into his human self, now dressed in a casual beach outfit—a loose white shirt, blue shorts, and a pair of sunglasses perched on his nose, a far cry from his usual overcoat and tie.
Ch'en slid off his back, her feet touching the ground as she steadied herself, her crimson eyes narrowing as she took in the scene.
She glanced at Hoshiguma, then at Howard, and finally at the car packed with beach gear—towels, umbrellas, and a cooler likely filled with drinks and snacks.
Ch'en could guess what had happened: a coordinated effort to force her into a break, one she hadn't realized she needed until now.
She muttered under her breath, "I really do have the most bizarre group ever."
But a grin spread across her face, her dragon tail flicking with a mix of amusement and gratitude.
Despite their oddness—Howard's shapeshifting, Hoshiguma's complicity in this absurd plan—she wouldn't trade them for anything.
They were her team, her friends, and they'd seen her through more than she could count.
Howard adjusted his sunglasses, a wide grin on his face as he clapped his hands together, his voice brimming with enthusiasm.
"Next destination: Siesta!" he declared, pointing toward the horizon where the promise of sun, sand, and relaxation awaited.