A day and a half passed.
[Day 179 of the Cataclysmic Flood]
Pal and Bear finally caught sight of their old base.
A cruise ship wedged between two protruding rock formations that had once been a narrow canyon.
Once, it had been a luxury liner—white hull, gleaming decks, glass walls reflecting sunsets. Now, it was rust-streaked and coated in grime and green moss.
The ship's name, "Vessel of the Stars," had long faded beneath layers of salt corrosion.
Bear had found this cruise ship during the third month and brought Leo, Pal, and his family with him to escape the sinking skyscraper city. It eventually became a refuge for survivors.
To protect the ship from water beast attacks, two towering, four-meter-high floating barriers had been constructed from shipping containers, large driftwood, and metal wreckage. These were bound together with heavy-duty fishing nets and steel cables, forming rings around the ship at twenty-meter and forty-meter radii.
Bear and Pal dared not get close to the outer ring of floating barriers. To deter water beasts, metal rods and sharpened rebars jutted outward along the edges.
They rowed their boat toward a small gap in the barrier, attracting the attention of the survivors.
Outside the inner ring, some survivors stood on improvised floating rafts, scavenging among steel cables and fishing nets, hoping to find unlucky low-rank water beasts that had gotten trapped.
Bear's team was quite famous among the non-awakeners. In the early days of the base's establishment, they had rescued many people and distributed supplies fairly, based on contribution and without discrimination.
Seeing Bear and Pal return in a wooden boat without Ron and Wells, the survivors grew concerned.
Suddenly, a commotion broke out near the narrow opening in the floating barriers that served as both entrance and passage to the ship.
Bear, Pal, and several others rowed closer and saw Leo's right-hand man known as Skull because of the large skull tattoo on his face. He was notorious in the base, but due to his ability to spawn and accelerate plant growth, he had been put in charge of the small kelp farm on the upper deck. Because of this, Leo often turned a blind eye to his misdeeds.
At the moment, Skull was glaring and shouting at an old man outside the ring.
"Hey, old man! Hand that over! So what if you found it? I killed that earlier—I just forgot to take it!"
Skull had clearly just come down from the ship. It was obvious he was lying, but none of the awakeners dared oppose him, and the ordinary survivors lacked the courage to stand up against him.
To earn his ire was to earn Leo's ire. Aside from Bear, no one could contend with Leo, who was a D-Class.
The old man frowned deeply. Though intimidated, he refused to let go of the water beast's corpse. It rationed carefully, it could feed him and his family for a week—he couldn't give it up.
He had found the E-Class water beast by chance, caught in one of the rebars. The corpse was still fresh. It was large, meaty—and its core was still embedded in its forehead.
"Skull, I really need this," the old man pleaded. "My family hasn't been eating properly for days, and my daughter is sick…"
Bear and Pal recognized him. It was Uncle Grant, who lived in the engine room. Before the Cataclysmic Flood, he had been neighbors with Bear's grandparents. Grant often visited their house, bonding with his grandparents and bringing chocolates and candies to young Bear as gifts whenever his daughter sent him things from overseas.
Grant had come from a fairly wealthy family. In the past, even in his fifties, he had looked like a man in his forties—still handsome.
But now…
He had grown thin. His skin was darkened from months under the sun, rough and weathered like old leather. Dark bruises stood out against his tanned arms—almost black. Small purplish spots clustered along his calves.
His lips were cracked, white at the edges.
Most survivors were in the same—or worse—condition as Uncle Grant.
Bear helped as much as he could, but as supplies grew scarce and market prices continued to rise, the help he could offer became less and less.
Uncle Grant's stubbornness made Skull scowl in irritation.
"Hand it over while I'm still asking nicely!"
Uncle Grant's knees weakened when Skull pulled out a piece of kelp with small roots. Everyone present knew this meant Skull was preparing to attack.
The non-awakened survivors and even some awakeners thought Skull had gone too far. Just as they were about to intervene, a loud voice rang out.
"Hey, punk! Dare to threaten someone again? Want to get beaten up a second time?"
Pal's eyes flared with anger.
A week ago, Uncle Grant had borrowed cores from them to buy food for his family, but Skull had extorted those cores under the pretense that they were stolen. Grant had reported it to them. Bear confronted Skull to get the cores back, and Pal had beaten him up.
That incident had intensified the rift between Bear and Leo. A massive fight had nearly broken out.
Faint traces of bruises from Pal's punches still lingered on Skull's face. The moment he saw Pal again, fear flashed in his eyes.
Damn it! Why did these two show up just when he found a chance to settle things with the old man?
Skull and Leo's men behind him took a step back. Though they outnumbered Bear and Pal, the two were formidable fighters. Most of Leo's cronies were only F-Class or E-Class, while Bear was D-Class and Pal was an E-Class on the verge of promotion. None of them dared confront the pair head-on.
"Just… just you wait…" Skull muttered timidly before stepping down from the barrier and rowing back toward the ship. His minions followed behind him.
Some survivors—and even a few awakeners—quietly laughed at his retreating figure. The onlookers gradually dispersed.
"Bear! Pal!" Uncle Grant's eyes lit up upon seeing them but the light quickly extinguished when he noticed something, "Where's Ron and Wells?"