Planning was easy. Getting the things done, actually was not. Even with the immeasurable help from Google, DIY websites and YouTube.

I understood the danger of my tireless constitution - I could easily get absorbed into a single task, potentially losing myself for indeterminate length of time. After some careful deliberation, I divided the twenty-four hours of a day into four equal parts.

The hours between three and nine o’clock in the evening were focused on renovation, construction and modernisation works. Setting up acceptable Internet, using wire mesh to make an EM shielded area to improve the protection of some of the electronic devices, learning the basics of welding, wiring and plumbing… As it turned out, the list could easily go on forever.

Then, through the night until three in the early morning I used several computers in parallel to download and backup tons of potentially useful information. It was obvious that with the expansion of the surface of the Earth, it was only a question of time before the World Wide Web was torn into small scraps of isolated LAN islands. Such possibility would make the value of currently worthless information skyrocket. While I had no exact plans how to use it, my estimations suggested that it was one of the most efficient ways to invest my time and resources. Wikipedia, online libraries, magazines, educational and even recreational movies and videos. Everything that came to my mind was saved on M-DISCs and carefully stored in multiple copies.

After that I was in Akadem, trying to gain as much understanding about supernatural as possible by browsing through the resources of the Depository.

During the next six hours until nine a.m. I mimicked the duties of a Mentor by sitting in a big cave hall that had been assigned to me as a classroom. No students came by, even with the idea of physical education or exercise that the wizards found unattractively unrefined and useless, having been changed into physical combat. That made sense too - it was still winter, and obviously way too inconvenient to join a new course. So I spent the available time by carefully studying medical, surgical, anatomical textbooks conveniently “borrowed” from Edinburgh public libraries or organizing and absorbing the information I had gained from the books of Depository.

Once the clock showed three again, I geoported back to Edinburgh, and the cycle repeated itself. Or should, ideally. In reality, however, it was more like two twelve-hour shifts - one in Edinburgh, another in Akadem. It was more efficient that way, since I was reliant on online guides to get things like wiring done.

Before I began to renovate the manor, I had no idea how complex some of the things could be. Calculating voltage drops, estimating parallel circuits and even simple splicing were a challenge at first. Therefore, it was an usual thing for me to have a laptop nearby, follow a “How to…” video from YouTube while sorting the cables, occasionally stopping to click on a new Download button or send a freshly downloaded file to the disc burner.

---

Such routine continued for a few weeks, at that point I ran out of things to do in the Manor. Well, I would have loved to change the carpets and construct top-grade workshops and laboratories in the empty caverns, but my resources were simply not enough. Even the plans for a thermoelectric generator had to be cancelled.

Even if I had enough spare money, I would still be hindered by the progressively deteriorating situation in the city. Two days after my arrival, city-wide curfew was imposed. Another two days later, the shops began to limit the sale of goods.

Some people began to escape the city, which was a somewhat debatable decision since they had to stay in the same traffic jams as the ones who were in contrary doing their best to leave the countryside.

The Government issued no clear statement that could calm down or at least direct the people. Instead, by the time March arrived, the newspapers stopped printing new issues as they had run out of their stocks of consumables.

With reliable information sources silent, the Internet and amateur radio channels were full of rumours lacking any sort of control and proofs, only adding to the confusion. People started to ignore the curfews, organized demonstrations demanding action from the governments and some resorted to unlawful behaviour. That, in turn, provoked a response from military and police, further increasing the rift dividing the society.

---

For that reason, I kept my hands visible when I approached a group of armed servicemen on the Portobello Beach, just a few miles east from the center of Edinburgh.

As odd as it was, the sky above Edinburgh remained clear for weeks - an obviously unnatural occurrence for Britain. However, having moved around and observed the internet, I noticed numerous reports describing abnormalities in the sea.

At first, thin layer of fog covered the sea surface during the nights. Originally people thought that it was caused by the recent changes and weather anomaly, but almost immediately it was noticed that no vessel returned to shore after spending a night out of the shore’s sight. And with each passing night, the fog would thicken and remain for longer into the day.

I had been occasionally hearing irregular bursts of automatic gunfire, including the recognizable rumble of large-caliber rounds, coming from the coast. But it took a while for me to find a suitable place and arrive there in time. Taking care to avoid the roadblocks, I finally found an average-sized team without an overly highly-ranked supervision that could complicate the communication.

The soldiers that I was approaching were clustered together near the water, quite a distance from military Land Rover parked on the promenade.

“Really, boys, what the fuck is that?” - I heard one grumbling.

Another one spat into the waves: “Some unholy shit. Tough one, too. Worse than those doped maniacs in Basra, remember em?”

Their radios cracked, obviously a warning coming from the ones who remained in the Rover. The men turned around, with their guns ready, but at least pointing the muzzles down.

Now that I could observe them in detail, I saw that they were quite old. Greying hair, wrinkles. I had noticed weakened energy within some of them, and had suspected an injury at first. But apparently, that was just age.

“Hello, young man.” - a man with neatly trimmed grey beard squinted at me through his orange-tinted ballistic glasses, and continued: “Unfortunately, the area is off-limits. No jogging, no fishing, no dating. Believe me, if not for Section 52 of RFA 96, we wouldn’t be here with just us either.”

I shook my head, pointing my chin towards the waterline. I was significantly higher than any of them, and so I could see a part of what they were trying to hide behind their backs.

“I am pretty sure you have no idea what is that, so I doubt you can give an accurate estimation of danger and establish a reliable buffer zone, right?” - I directed my sight towards the distant blanket of fog.

It was a bit too distant to be certain, but it felt suspiciously similar to the fog I had encountered when dealing with spirds in the other world’s pyramid. It also glowed with energy. Back then I had thought it to be magic, but now I categorized it as a life force. On the other hand, I could be wrong again. In any case, that fog was not natural, and quite likely related to some creatures. For example the one whose barnacle-crusted part I could see over the shoulders of the soldiers.

The man that talked to me was not impressed.

He shrugged and his voice sank: “Still, I have to insist. We have our orders. And permission to use any means necessary to ensure that the safety in the area isn’t compromised.”

“Now, now, officer. I would appreciate if you do not shoot. That would be quite unpleasant.” - while the men were hesitating, I carefully pulled out the contract I had signed with the Ministry of Defence before the operation with rabbi Aitan Es and his ‘happy tree friends’ team.

It was good I had come up with a idea to carry that very official-looking, stamp-ridden paper with me when moving around the city. Even better, I did not get shot while taking it out.

Also the effect of that bureaucratic totem was indisputable. These soldiers were retired Long Term Reserve, and were pretty civilian-ized and down to earth, not prepared to stick their noses into government-level dealings. Even the leader, despite being clearly unhappy about “youngsters butting in”, seemed to accept the paper after a full minute of scrutiny. To relax the tension, I pointed at the statements mentioning “cooperation” and “specialist assistance”, and soon the servicemen moved aside.

I stepped between them, conscious about the muzzles surrounding me. Safeties were on, but fingers were hovering near the levers, ready to flip them at a moment’s notice.

Illuminated by the somewhat bleak March afternoon sun was a bulky humanoid body. Thick crust of dark barnacles formed something like a carapace, which was messily combined with strips of motley cloth or seaweeds that also helped it to blend in with the grainy, dark granite sand and marine debris. I could spot no bullet wounds, but something was tinting the surrounding wet sand into a shade of purplish blue.

“Were you attacked by it?” - I was curious to ask before I flipped it over.

One man answered, relaxedly: “Unless its groaning and hand waving was a call for hugs, yes.”

I raised an eyebrow: “My, my. And you shot it just for that, gentlemen?”

The leader shot an annoyed look at the man, and unwillingly elaborated: “We were told to shoot em down. Over the last few days, there were reported eight dead from these...creatures.”

Oh. Now that I looked at the ‘hands’ of the body, there were long, chipped and generally nasty-looking … claws? Nails? I was trying to match the thing I was seeing with what I had read about in Depository in the last weeks.

Siren was unlikely, it could not be a nymph either - too cold. Then, qallupith? Some kind of fish-man? Deep dweller? Well, it had no fins, but according to the copy of a fairly new, barely five decades old book Glamour and shapechanging, observed among spirits and creatures by Rosaline Moon from Depository, most intelligent supernaturals were able to morph their bodies to some extent. But how was I supposed to check if the dead one before me was intelligent or not?

To make myself less conspicuous, I managed to get the soldiers help me to flip the creature around. It was unnaturally heavy, which made the retired reservists complain a lot. But that did not stop them from working, and as the number of swearing increased, iI understood that the men themselves were feeling curious about what they had managed to gun down.

---

“Jesus…” - said one, doing a cross sign.

Another one craned his neck to see better, before pulling back: “Fuck, this shit is even uglier when stays still.” - and spat a big glob of spittle into the sea to accentuate his verdict.

I looked at the pallid skin bloated into a mass of folds where the empty eye sockets could barely be located. It looked nothing like Messiah, so I was more inclined towards the “ugly shit” reaction.

Greyish, bleached colour of waterlogged flesh was peeking from between the irregular crust of barnacle armour. Yes, it had a quite obvious armour, in the shape of a thick long coat or hauberk chainmail.

A thinner, older soldier with golden-framed bifocals and the signs of Combat Medical Technician scratched the stubble on his chin and looking unsure, suggested: “When I was a youngster, in seventies, I read stories in newspapers about sea humans seen near Antartica.”

“Lovecraft stuff? I remember reading his stories too. Helluva read.” - another man remembered. I was not going to tell him that too many of the things H.P. Lovecraft described were too close to truth.

The medic shook his head: “No, no, it had a japanese, I think, name. Nan? Non?”

“Ningen.” - I could remember that popular article from Internet: “Means ‘human’. And no, that is not it.” Mostly because Ningen were reported to be tens of meters long.

“Young man, what’s that, then? Sure it’s not Nessie.” - the leading old man was not into guessing games.

I shrugged: “You know local history. Not much to do with Greek, Japanese or Pacific stuff. Instead, lots of Celtic and Viking footprints. That one is a gift from the latter - something nowadays commonly categorized as sea-draugr.” - I thought for a moment before adding: “At least, it looks very similar to one. Except that this one is way too well preserved and is wearing an interesting armour.”