“The depths are full of treasures, and few dive deeper or know the dark waters better than I. Old Ben Thick at your service, sir.”

The shark-man sat on the edge of the fountain. His broad, thick fingers shuffled a deck of red-backed playing cards, making them bend and snap out to dance from hand to hand with an almost hypnotically easy motion.

“So, what’s your pleasure, cappy’tan. I’ve got spices and I’ve got liquors, of course, but more’n that I see you’re a fighting man, so…” With a casual movement he caught a card between two fingers and flipped it over. Depicted in bright colors was a flintlock pistol made of what looked like brass and ivory, with roses carved into the white grip. “Taken from a captain of the Marchesa’s own fleet. Made of whalesbone and charmed to fire underwater.”

“Or…” Another card, another illustration. This one was a blade of blue stone carved with concentric green patterns. It was a broad cleaver with no hilt, the crudest form of cutlass. “The sea-fire carver. Blazes with blue flame when put underwater, and damn good for a wielder of fire Shards who needs to travel the deeps.”

The cards danced. More images appeared in the shark-man’s hands. “A brass knife from the witches of the green depths, what summons a tendril to seize your foes. A grudgetaker’s harpoon, to channel your rage and bitter hatred into strength. A brimstone rifle that carries the might of the deep’s volcanoes. Just say the word. What can Ol’ Ben Thick do for you?”

Nic reached into his bag and pulled out the miniature ship. It had been stored within the mystic bag when he found it, in a shipyard full of rotting, ancient wrecks. “Can you tell me what this is, exactly?”

“Oh, usually there’s a charge for that sort of thing.” Ben smiled a sharp-toothed smile. “But seeing as I could recognize onne’a those piss-drunk and staggering, and you’re my new favorite customer, I’ll tell you a secret for free. That’s what it looks like, a ship what’s been shrunk down. I’m guessing you’re struggling to get it to do somethin’ and that’s because it takes a whole crew’s aura to fuel one up.”

“By the looks, that one’s made for sand rather than sea, but I still have some fixings that might interest you. Behold...”

He turned his palm to show four cards. A sail patterned with golden waves that spiralled in geometric patterns. A blood-red fiddle with a mermaid carved into the neck and scroll. A ship’s wheel made of green malachite and covered with iron chains. And last, a masthead in the shape of a gorgon.

“A sail that knows how best to catch the wind, and a fiddle to summon one to your command. A wheel that binds the souls of the dead to serve as your crew- seeing as you don’t seem to have one ready. And a masthead that knows the course towards your desires.”

“Useful. Now I’m guessing you say the price, and I feel pain.”

“For the lot? Fourteen thousand. An’ that’s a bargain.” He smiled till his one gold-capped fang shone.

Nic nodded, flashing a pained smile. “We’ll talk about it. I’ve already got a few things I need to spend my first few fortunes on.”

“Oh, that’s always the way. Now, anything more immediate? Or shall I make myself scarce ‘till I’m needed?”

“Have any Secondary Shards?”

“Aye, that’s a thing I can sell you for a song. Shards of all kinds…” His deck flashed a few. “Secondary’s easy enough, cause those of us who can survive the deeps will surely find more than a few resting among the bones of those who couldn’t. What kind’a Shard were you lookin’ to augment, hoa?”

“Poison Mist. He paused, and then added. And one for ice if you have it…”

“Northern seas and poison waters, I hear.” The snap and flick of the cards multiplied for a second. The deck seemed to move on its own, and the same card was never seen twice.

“A kraken’s Shard will make your poisons blind and bind their victim, like a spill of darkest ink. A mermaid’s touch will lull a man into the depths of dreams. But maybe, maybe…”

The shuffling came to a stop. He leaned in, and with a conspiratory smile, flipped the last card. It contained a nodule of amber with what looked like a tiny tree caught within.

“Take this one. Three thousand, and that’s not cheap. That’s nothing.”

“So, what’s this Shard that’s worth so much then?” Nic was intrigued, but he knew theater when he saw it.

“Time.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Cross my heart and sell my soul. It’s an Ageless Shard. Something carried in a merchant vessel, a great ship whose death I saw from afar, on a night full of fire and bloodshed. I hauled the chest from the wreckage and found nothing but this inside, wrapped in a cloth spun from song.

“Sofia?”

“Nicolas. Take it. I don’t know what it will become combined with Poison Mist, but I can see past combinations using this Shard and… to say they’re powerful is beyond the point. They produce something unique and special every time.”

Nic nodded. Three thousand- He’d gained just over a thousand from his bounty in the course of two days, and he’d started with a thousand in case he needed to send Tarquin another care package. “What do you value these at?” He drew out the healing orbs from the spiders. He’d gotten eight, and he knew they were worth something.

He also had the pearls from the drowned town, but those were too useful to sell. Movement was everything, especially underwater. “How about… two thousand and five of these.”

“Hmm. Fair’s fair, and I’ll give you the last thousand for six of them.”

So long as Nic had a few left for emergencies, he really wasn’t too concerned. The spiders were in need of protection and he’d soon have a Settlement to offer in exchange for a steady supply of silk and medicines.

Three thousand was nothing, except that it’d been a while since he’d gone out and hunted to build up credits from the System.

“Right you are. A treasure I’m sorry to see go.” He dealt the card across to Nic, who took it curiously. As soon as it was in his hands a painless fire consumed the paper and left a nodule of amber the size of a child’s fist in Nic’s hand.

He could feel the Essence within. Powerful, strange, and not quite like any energy he’d encountered before.

“Well, if that be all. I’ll be on my way ‘till the winds and the tides call me back to your side.” Stepping off the ledge of the fountain, Old Ben vanished into the waters, leaving only a ripple behind. The abyssal depths that had opened at the fountain’s basin closed up, leaving the Seal of the Wreckrunner lying on the tiled floor.

Nic grinned. He was going to enjoy working with Old Ben, he could tell. And the Shard in his hand felt like the beginning of a powerful road.

But he had a day to burn. One day till he was ready to evolve and step forward into the E-Class.

It was a thought that was nagging at him, making him wildly impatient. His whole body was itching with eagerness to grasp the powers of the Bloodline Sea.

Even sitting down was hard, but he managed to fold his legs and assume the lotus position, chewing into an Esper fruit to push his mind into a calm place. Over the last two days he’d cleaned and reinforced the meridians within his heart, polishing each channel of energy until there was no turbulence in the network of interconnecting lines that flowed through his heart.

Now he needed to advance to the final stage, and create the bloodline gate. It involved refining a single thread of Essence until, as the scroll said, ‘it is as pure as silk’ and weaving it through each of the seven nodes to link them in a precise order.

The problem was he’d be threading a needle of power through his own beating heart.

Fighting to clear his mind of distractions, Nic began by gathering a point of refined Essence into the first node of the bloodline gate. He slowly pressed it through the thudding chambers of his heart, feeling the heat of the burning energy traveling within him like burning coal. The sensation was far from pleasant, but wasn’t as totally agonizing as the scroll had led him to expect.

Either that or Nic’s pain tolerance was inhuman.

As the blistering point of energy met the second node, Nic had to time the collision precisely. If it didn’t match the beat of his pulse it was possible the entire heart would stop.

Sweat rolled down his head as he closed his eyes and pushed it forward, timing the movement to the downwards clench of his heart. As the organ expanded outwards again, sending blood rushing through his veins, a golden chime echoed through his body. Every cell and fibre of his being seemed to roar with the music of that single note, as if he was formed from glass.

Node after node, he wove the Bloodline Gate through his heart, forming a seal of twisting patterns. It grew harder with each passing second, the energy needing more concentration to hold stable as it extended and began to cross over the same node multiple times. One drop of sweat became a constant dribble of slime trailing across Nic’s skin as he focused more intently than he ever had on completing and stabilizing the pattern.

It began to feel like he was pulling a scalding wire through his own veins, and his fingers curled into white-knuckled fists.

Something had gone wrong. The thread was vibrating, humming wildly with a frantic energy. Somewhere along the way he’d failed to smooth and polish the channels, or had lost control of the energy just for a split instant, and now it was beginning to fall apart.

His only choice was to finish it.

Nic began to press on as fast as he dared while still hitting the rhythms of his heart. The pain began to intensify, and pushing faster only made the energy become more violent. His heart started to lose rhythm, and his whole body experienced stabbing spasm of pain so bad his eyes went white.

But there were only three connections left to make.

Nic blocked out the pain, blocked out everything, and narrowed his world to contain only the searing thread of energy running through his heart.

He pushed through the first of the final three gates, feeling like his world was spinning.

By the second, a rushing of blood and a terrible, drumbeat sound had filled his skull, echoing so loud he could barely concentrate.

And by the third, calm had descended. Silence flowed through his body. As the last connection was anchored, the entire seal of Essence snapped into place, solidifying and becoming stable. The burning sensation ceased as the energy became still and cool and pliant.

“Nicolas!”

It took a moment for Nic to realize what was wrong. Why his head was still spinning. Why he was lying on the floor in a pool of sticky, slimy sweat, unable to stand.

The silence was because his heart had stopped.

With a grunt he managed to lift his shaking hand and make a fist. His body was refusing to obey, but by sheer will, manipulating the aura within his muscles rather than the muscle itself, he made the fist slam into his chest with rib-cracking force.

There was a single, delayed thud. And then his heart fell back into rhythm, his breathing steadied, and his limbs stopped shaking.

He gasped, and after that-

After that Nic got into the bath. He didn’t remember how he got there, only that when he woke up, hours later, he was drifting in a cold bath.

And standing over him was one of the dead shades from the Throne of Tides.