A thin mist hung low over the Sea of Mist. The pale dawn slowly broke across the eastern horizon.
The agonizing hail from the night before had finally ceased. Yet, the air on the open port still felt as cold as ice. The sharp scent of sea salt now mixed heavily with the foul stench of black sap—the remnants of the Kraken's rampage against the hull.
Captain Thorne stood at the edge of the upper deck.
Sip.
He took a sip of bitter black tea from his steaming iron mug. The veteran's eyes stared blankly at the post-battle stage below him.
The NRS Orion had indeed escaped death. However, the remnants of destruction were displayed plain as day.
Infantrymen and crew members moved efficiently without saying much. Scrape... scrape. They cleared away splintered wooden planks, washed off the slick black slime, and tried to shift the severely warped remains of the iron railing.
