The transition from the peaceful, flower-strewn garden of the 16th floor to the 17th was violent. There was no gentle fade, only a sudden, lung-bursting plunge into freezing salt water and the deafening roar of a gale.
Kang Min surfaced, gasping as a rogue wave slammed into him with the force of a battering ram. Around him, the world was a chaotic canvas of churning charcoal waves and jagged lightning. The sky didn't just hold clouds; it held an eternal, swirling vortex that seemed to be trying to suck the ocean into the heavens.
"To the ropes! Grab the lines or drown!" a voice bellowed over the thunder.
Kang Min reached out, his fingers catching a thick, barnacle-encrusted hemp rope. He hauled himself upward, his boots finding purchase on the slick, rotting wood of a massive galleon's hull. As he vaulted over the railing and onto the deck, he saw the other survivors.
