Lord of Winter: Beginning with Daily Intelligence - Chapter 802 - 439: Drowned in the Arms of Tenderness (Part 3)

“Captain.” His voice trembled, “Look at the mirror.”

Balk stood in the shadows, his shoulders raised, with fine hard patterns on the side of his neck.

“You’ve grown scales.” The old lieutenant choked up.

Meryl hid behind Balk, very close, her voice so low it was almost inaudible: “He’s jealous of you, he wants to stop you.”

Balk looked at the old lieutenant, remembering countless nights when this man blocked blades for him, guarded the ship for him,

The remnants of feelings in his chest twitched, then desire overwhelmed them.

He let out a discordant roar and lunged forward.

Mutated claws tore open the throat, blood sprayed onto the cabin walls.

The old lieutenant wasn’t dead yet, dragged to the ship’s side.

“Don’t blame me,” Balk said, “The path to the throne always needs someone to pave it.”

The sound of falling into the water was light, like a thread being snipped.

On the fifteenth day, under Balk’s compulsion, they sailed into the depths of the Broken Isles.

The sea caves were called the Silent Eye, no wind, the water surface like a black mirror, pink mist flowing below.

In Balk’s eyes, it was a waterway leading to the temple.

On either side of the rocks, silver armor stood, praises echoed in the air.

Meryl held his hand. Her lower body had long turned into tentacles, climbing on the rock wall.

But in Balk’s eyes, she wore a long dress trailing on the ground, with lotus blossoms blooming at each step.

The scent deep inside the cave became excessively sweet, like honeyed fruit on the verge of rot, with warm pink light pervading the air, soft and surreal.

In the center, Balk stopped, untied his sword, laid aside his armor, and took off the heavy coat.

He knelt down, his bare knees sunk into softness.

At this moment, he was letting go not just of equipment.

Vigilance, tension, self-defense—those lifelong companions—were shed one by one.

The relaxation of a long-awaited reunion surged forth.

His breathing became steady, the fervor faded from his demeanor, like a child finally home, wanting only to sleep, never to wake.

The shadow above slowly descended.

It was a parasitic brain jellyfish, its tentacles translucent, light, and soft, emitting a subtle glow.

Meryl stood by, her voice low like a lullaby: “You don’t need to fight anymore, don’t need to be angry anymore, close your eyes and accept this gift.”

Balk closed his eyes, he felt no foreign presence.

Only felt his back being held up by warm hands, gently lifted.

The sky seemed to open a crack, golden rain fell, warm and pure, pouring in from the top.

Fatigue washed away, fear soothed, aging disappeared.

He saw himself sitting on a throne among the clouds, the sea spread beneath his feet.

Enemies dwindled into dust, insignificant. He needed no arm-waving, just a thought, and the sea bowed.

The ultimate sense of satisfaction rose, whole and smooth.

“Ah…” he sighed in his heart, “This is completeness.”

In reality, tentacles gently wrapped around the back of his head, scalp and bones quietly softened.

Balk’s body went completely limp.

His head tilted back, the corners of his mouth lifted into an extremely happy smile, innocent and peaceful.

A tear slid from the corner of his eye, yet before reaching his chin, the light in his eyes extinguished.

A brief silence ensued.

Then when those eyes opened, there was no flame of ambition, only a fathomless tranquility.

Empty yet seeming compassionate.

The creature behind his head had merged with him, tentacles turned into pale blue veins under the skin, subtly flickering with the heartbeat.

Balk raised his hand, flexed his fingers slightly, as if adapting to a new instrument.

The wide brim of the hat cast a shadow, perfectly concealing the mutation behind his head.

He turned and walked towards the exit, his steps light.