It ruled the sea.
Bigger than anything I'd seen. Bigger than my raft. Bigger than the reef. Bigger than the island I came from.
Black as volcanic rock. Silent as the deep.
Its mouth was impossible.
Rows of jagged, blade-like teeth. Curved like scythe tips. Dozens of them. Each the size of my leg.
It didn't eat.
It harvested.
When it opened its mouth, fish screamed. Even the big ones. The ones that thought they were kings.
It didn't scream.
It just moved.
And things died.
I named it The Blade-Mouth.
Because that's what it was.
Not a fish. Not a whale. Not a god.
Just a mouth full of blades.
And I wanted it dead.
I followed it…
For three weeks.
It didn't swim like the others. Didn't dart or chase. It moved slow. Lazy. Like it knew nothing could touch it.
Every few days, it dove deep. Disappeared into the dark where even I couldn't follow.
Then it returned. Always to the same places. Circling.
Hunting.
It fed in the twilight zone. Where light and dark met like the edge of a knife.
There, it would glide into schools of serpentfish or kraken spawn and open its maw. No chase. No struggle. Just one flick of that tail and a thousand things disappeared.
Everything feared it.
Even the sharks turned away when it came.
Even the reef-crawlers. The tentacled ones with ink for blood.
Even I, watching it from behind the shadow of coral, felt my body tremble like prey.
But I stayed.
Always stayed.
Watched.
Studied.
That's when I learned something.
The Blade-Mouth had fear.
Not of me.
Not yet.
But of certain waters.
Patches filled with stringy jellies and slow-drifting green clouds of plant-mist. Areas that burned the skin and stung the eyes.
Toxic. Even to a god-beast.
The Blade-Mouth never entered them. Always turned. Always twisted away. Its giant fins shuddered like it remembered some old pain.
I tested it.
Swam into those waters. Let the stingers touch me. Let the fog choke my lungs.
Died.
Woke up coughing blood and froth.
Then did it again.
And again.
Until I learned how they killed. What combinations worked fastest. What could burn nerves. What could seize the heart.
I milked the jellyfish.
Pounded the green plants into pulp.
Crushed the spines of reef-crawlers with coral stones, drained the venom sacs with bone needles.
It took me days.
I died twelve times.
But I made it.
A poison sack. Big. Thick. Wrapped in eel-skin. Lined with bladderweed to keep it fresh. Sealed with shark oil and tied with sinew rope.
Enough poison to make a mountain scream.
Now I needed something to carry it.
I carved the harpoon from driftwood and bone. Reinforced the shaft with whale rib. Sharpened the tip with stone glass. Bled on it to wake it up.
Not magic. Not words.
Just hunger.
My hunger.
I tied the poison sack near the tip, with a pressure spike. When it hit flesh, the spike would drive down and burst the sack.
Flood the wound with liquid death.
One strike.
That's all I'd get.
If I missed, or if the sack failed…
It would be weeks before I found the beast again.
If it didn't kill me first.
I waited until the lazy time. Midday.
That's when it came closest to the surface. After hunting. Before diving.
It floated just beneath the sunlight. Long shadow. Slow tail. Eyes half-lidded. Like it was dreaming.
I needed bait.
Big bait.
Loud bait.
Stupid bait.
So I made a frenzy.
I paddled to the churning reefs, speared three dozen fish. Gutted them in the boat, let the blood spill.
Hung their guts over the side, let them drag.
Threw meat in the water. Dead birds. Old scraps. Bones I'd kept as trophies.
Then I bled myself. My arm. My chest. Let it run down into the sea.
Blood and guts. A feast.
The sharks came first.
Four of them. Then ten.
Then the reef eels. Then a spined squid.
They all came. All fighting. Tearing at the red water. Screaming. Biting each other.
The sea turned black with violence.
Perfect.
I crouched on the edge of the boat. Harpoon ready.
Tied the rope to my waist.
Poison sack primed.
Heart still.
Eyes forward.
And then…
I felt it.
The water changed.
The frenzy froze.
Every fish, every eel, every shark, all of them. Gone.
Vanished.
The sea grew silent.
Cold.
Heavy.
The Blade-Mouth was near.
It rose through the bloody water like a mountain. Slow. Unstoppable.
Its shadow swallowed the boat.
I saw one eye.
Golden. Huge.
Ancient.
It looked at the bait.
At the blood.
At me.
And it understood.
Not like an animal.
Not like prey.
It knew.
Knew this was a trap. I was hunting it.
But it came anyway.
Not because it was stupid.
Because it didn't care.
That's how gods think.
That's how monsters act.
Like nothing can hurt them.
I stood.
Feet spread.
Harpoon raised.
Muscles tight.
Heart loud.
I waited for the moment. The perfect second.
When the eye blinked.
When the tail slowed.
When the great mouth cracked open, just a little curious…
That was when I struck.
Screamed.
Leapt.
The harpoon flew.
Straight and true.
And I fell with it.
Toward the god of the sea.
Toward my prey.
Toward power.
Toward the Blade-Mouth.