"...You really are always this unpredictable, aren't you?"
Gladiia sighed quietly.
She had been staring into Steven's eyes—searching for even a trace of hesitation or deceit—and found none. And just like that, her body relaxed. She leaned forward, resting her forehead softly against his shoulder.
This wasn't part of their dance.
It wasn't choreographed, wasn't elegant. It was just… instinct.
The kind of relief that followed after carrying a weight too heavy for too long.
Now that it was suddenly gone, her knees felt weak, her breath slow.
The truth was, the identity of an Abyssal Hunter had always been a sword hanging over her head—a Damocles' sword, its thread fraying with each passing day. The irreversible transformation into a Seaborn lood constantly, forcing her to think about returning to the one place she hated most: her dangerous, haunted holand.
But then—he said it.
That man. That bizarre, maddening, miraculous man who called himself her father.
He said he could fix it.
And the mont he did, Gladiia believed him.
Because he had never broken a promise. Not once.
No matter how absurd, no matter how impossible—if Steven said he could do sothing, then her only job was to sit back and watch the show.
Even if he suddenly said he was going to march into the depths of the ocean and slay all the Leviathans one by one, Gladiia would nod without hesitation, follow behind him, and help chart the path.
Because that's just the kind of man he was.
A miracle wrapped in lazy grins and offhand jokes.
Still… Gladiia wasn't naïve.
She knew better than anyone that Steven didn't help people easily. He didn't offer assistance. He didn't make promises. He lived selfishly, doing what he wanted, when he wanted.
And yet, he'd chosen to help her.
That ant… this wasn't just about so "daughter" bond.
"There's nothing I can do," Steven said with a smug grin, gently stroking her long silver hair. "I'm just that amazing. And besides—how else am I supposed to be your dad if I'm not a little overpowered, huh?"
Gladiia almost laughed. Even now—even now—he couldn't stop with the jokes.
"That doesn't change the fact that our so-called 'father-daughter' relationship ended a long ti ago… And this cos with a price, doesn't it?"
She didn't lift her head. Her voice was muffled, heavy with sothing unspoken, as she leaned against his shoulder.
Even if Steven could remove the Seaborn transformation from her body, it wouldn't co free. She understood that.
Losing that corruption ant losing everything that ca with it.
The strength.
The speed.
The power to survive.
To protect.
She would no longer be an Abyssal Hunter.
She'd be… ordinary.
"That's right," Steven nodded. "Don't expect to go punching whales in half after this. But hey—what's so bad about being normal?"
He shrugged like it wasn't a big deal.
Because to him, it wasn't.
The power of the Abyssal Hunters ca from the Seaborn.
You couldn't have one without the other.
Trying to keep the strength while ditching the curse? That was just wishful thinking. Even for him.
Still, Steven knew Gladiia wouldn't give it up so easily. She wasn't the kind to back down.
She didn't want to return to Ægir just to survive—she wanted more.
To fight.
To change things.
To protect.
She couldn't abandon this cursed power yet.
And Steven knew that.
So the best he could do… was buy her ti.
Ti to chase her own answers.
Ti to survive.
Ti to hope.
"I can't decide for you," he said softly. "So… what do you want to do?"
Gladiia was practically draped over Steven like a lazy cat, her whole weight resting against him. Thankfully, he was strong—absurdly so—otherwise, anyone else probably would've collapsed under the sheer burden of this swordfish girl.
"Since I can cure that Seaborn thing of yours, I'm guessing you're not in such a hurry to rush back to your beloved holand now, right?"
Steven tilted his head slightly, his tone playful. "After all, there's still soone here we haven't quite… taken care of."
He glanced behind him—at a certain Abyssal Hunter softly humming a tune.
That little shark girl, as if sensing his gaze, turned her head and flashed a smile.
A smile so bloodthirsty, so unhinged, it was less "adorable" and more "nightmare fuel."
That one…
Yeah, Yamato alone wouldn't be enough.
Sure, he could slice the Seaborn from her with one clean cut. The problem? Her human half would probably drop dead the mont the Originite fluid in her spine ruptured.
This wasn't just a cut-and-done situation. If Steven wanted to save her, he'd need a proper surgical plan.
And that wasn't even the worst of it.
The real headache… was Skadi.
On the surface, she seed like the most stable one of the bunch.
But in reality? She was a whole different level of dangerous.
Steven had a feeling even Gladiia didn't realize it, but if he tried using Yamato on Skadi, he wouldn't just be starting a surgery—he'd be declaring all-out war between the land and the sea.
With those two still unhandled, rushing off to Ægir now would be… idiotic.
"Of course, if you insist on going," Steven said with a lazy shrug, "I won't stop you. But I'm coming with you. No offense, but in your current state… you're still way too weak."
He turned back to her, tone blunt but not unkind.
There weren't many people who could get away with calling an Abyssal Hunter weak and not be punched into next week.
But Steven? He wasn't just "anyone."
And he wasn't wrong either.
Even setting aside that suspicious god thing lurking on the outskirts of Ægir Border City, the adaptive Seaborn he'd seen under the Church's command was way beyond what Gladiia could handle alone.
If she dove back into the ocean now, there was no guarantee she'd ever co back up.
Not everyone got lucky enough to run into a reality-breaking traveler like him.
And he had no intention of letting her vanish beneath the waves for good.
If she insisted, he'd reluctantly cancel his travel plans in Kazimierz and escort her to Ægir himself.
A journey twenty thousand leagues beneath the sea, huh?
Sounded annoying.
—But thankfully, Gladiia didn't press the issue.
Steven had a point.
There were still things that needed settling on land.
For one, the Church of the Deep.
The ones responsible for twisting her comrades into monsters.
She couldn't forgive them.
Wouldn't.
And then there was Laurentia.
Her mories, her past—it was all tangled up with the Church, and they might be the only clue she had left to unravel it.
"…You've got a point," Gladiia admitted softly, finally lifting her head from his shoulder.
She tilted it slightly, eyeing Steven's delicate profile.
He wasn't outrageously handso or anything.
But for so reason, the more she looked at him, the more she liked what she saw.
Even she couldn't explain why.
"And I'm sure you've already gathered plenty of intel on the Church of the Deep, haven't you?" she asked, voice laced with curiosity.
Steven gave a mischievous smile.
"If you're just looking to pick a fight with them, I've got plenty of information to share. And while you're at it—go ahead and help settle my own score with them too."
Steven narrowed his eyes slightly.
There was no doubt that the Church of the Deep was connected to the traitors of Ægir. But ultimately, this was Gladiia's path to walk. She would have to investigate those ties herself. And frankly, if those lunatics thought they could take her down easily… they were in for a rude awakening.
At the very least, Steven didn't need to lose sleep over it.
Gladiia had her own goals now. As long as she didn't go running straight into her doom, he had no reason to get in her way. Let her do what she wanted—he'd step in only if things got truly out of hand.
Besides, Steven had his own score to settle with the Church of the Deep.
If she was heading off to cause them trouble, he'd be more than happy to lend a hand.
Heading to Iberia wasn't like going all the way to Ægir.
With Warp Stone in place, he could make the trip in under half a day.
Just a blink, and he'd be there.
Plus, the entire Inquisition in Iberia?
Yeah. They were his people.
With that kind of support, Gladiia would be perfectly safe.
"…Wait a second," Gladiia said, narrowing her eyes. "You already planned all of this, didn't you? You've been setting things up from the mont you thought I might get my mories back."
Steven gave her a sideways glance, then let out a soft chuckle.
She wasn't wrong.
From start to finish, he'd been eerily calm—like he knew exactly what she was going to say, exactly what she was going to do.
Now that she thought about it, not once had he ever looked flustered. Never anxious. Never lost.
"'Planned' is a strong word," he said, stroking his chin. "Let's call it… preparedness. Better safe than sorry, right? And co on—you are technically my adopted daughter. Of course I'd be looking out for you. What kind of father would I be otherwise?"
He grinned, playing it off like it was nothing.
In truth, none of this was part of so grand strategy—it was all just coincidence and timing.
Fate, maybe.
But for Gladiia, hearing those words lit a strange warmth in her chest.
The things he'd done for her… the lengths he'd gone…
They weren't just about convenience.
They were proof that he cared.
Maybe even saw her as a real family—just like he said.
Because with the kind of power Steven had, Ægir's technology or her problems… they were nothing to him.
He had no reason to go this far for her.
None… except that he wanted to.
"Don't look at like that," Steven muttered, catching her soft gaze. "I'll send over the intel soon. But you'll have to head to Iberia on your own. I can't bring people with when I teleport. Just let know once you arrive—I've still got so sightseeing to do in Kazimierz."
His voice was casual, maybe even teasing, but he was serious.
Teleportation wasn't a group service.
If Gladiia traveled there by herself, he'd have ti to enjoy the rest of his trip before catching up.
Gladiia nodded quietly, her gaze lingering on him—eyes soft, complicated, like a storm just barely held at bay.
Then, as if making so final decision, she bit her lip.
Instead of stepping back into their dance, the Abyssal Hunter suddenly leaned forward, burying herself once more in Steven's embrace.
When she looked up again, her cool composure had lted away—replaced by sothing far more vulnerable.
Sothing almost childlike.
"…Da… Dad."
Her arms wrapped tight around his back, Gladiia let herself completely sink into the warmth of his presence, savoring this fleeting mont.
There was still ti, wasn't there?
Then just for a little longer…
She would allow herself to be greedy.
Just a little more.
Steven froze for half a second, caught off guard.
Then he glanced at the na hovering just above her head—checking for any familiar status effects.
Nothing.
He sighed, smiling helplessly.
She was clearly acting.
A little clumsy, a little forced.
But he didn't call her out on it.
Instead, just like always, he placed his hand gently on her silvery white hair… And gave it a soft, comforting rub.
"Yeah," he said quietly.
"I'm here."
< >
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