QT: I hijacked a harem system and now I'm ruining every plot(GL) Chapter 398: Focus

Chapter 397

The huge monster pauses and looks at Daphne.

Its dark eyes fix on her face. Its massive body is still beneath the water, the only movent the slow sway of its tail beneath the surface.

The fog presses in around them, thick and gray, as if the world itself is holding its breath.

Daphne stands on the broken hull, her hand still outstretched, her heart pounding in her chest.

The monster does not move an inch only looking at her. As if it’s trying to rember sothing—

"Fire!"

The shout cos from behind her.

Daphne turns.

The Bunny—is there, half-hidden in the fog. The crew is on the deck, rushing to the cannons, the harpoons, the weapons.

Prince Caspian stands at the bow, his arm raised, his face pale but determined.

"Fire!" he shouts again. "Now!"

"No—" Daphne’s voice is lost in the wind. "Wait—don’t—"

The harpoons launch.

Large spears, tipped with iron, attached to thick ropes, fly through the air. They are designed for whales, for sea monsters, for killing.

They strike the monster’s back—one, two, three—tearing through scales, through flesh, through muscle.

The monster screams in pain, and it breaks through Daphne’s chest.

The monster thrashes.

Its massive body twists, sending waves crashing against the hull, against the ship, against everything. Water surges over Daphne’s feet, nearly knocking her off the broken wreckage.

"Stop!" she screams. "Stop firing!"

No one hears her.

The crew is shouting, reloading, preparing another round. The prince is pointing, commanding, ordering.

"Again!" he shouts. "Hit it again!"

The monster turns.

Its dark eyes find Daphne.They are frightened. Hurting. Betrayed.

"No—" Daphne’s voice cracks. "No— I didn’t an to—"

The monster dives.

Back into the water. Into the dark. Gone.

The water churns. The fog swirls. The harpoon ropes go slack, trailing into the deep.

Daphne stands on the broken hull, frozen.The sound of distant cheering snaps her out of it.

*

Daphne climbs onto the ship.

She does not rember swimming. Does not rember grabbing the rope. Does not rember pulling herself over the railing. She is just... there. On the deck. Soaked. Shaking.

Not from the cold.

With anger.

The crew is still cheering.

"Did you see that?"

"We hit it!"

"It ran!"

"It ran!"

Daphne walks toward the prince.

Her boots leave wet prints on the wood. Her coat drips seawater. Her hair is plastered to her face.

No one notices her.

Not until she is there.

"You."

Her voice is low, quiet and dangerous.The prince turns, still smiling.

"Did you see that?" His eyes are bright, his chest heaving with adrenaline. "Thanks to you—"

The prince does not finish his statent.

He is in the air.

She grabs him by the neck. His legs dangle off the floor. His eyes go wide. His hands fly to her wrist, trying to pull her off, trying to breathe.

The action silences the entire ship.

The prince’s n raise their swords, ready to support him—but they have guns and swords at their throats from The Bunny’s crew.

Smith tries to step forward.

A small dagger presses against his neck.

Naia smiles. "Sorry, honey." She pushes the dagger deeper, not drawing blood, not yet, just promising.

The crew watches.

The prince chokes.

[Host. You cannot kill the male lead.]

The System’s voice echoes in Daphne’s mind, but all anyone else can hear on the very silent ship is the squawking of a bird.

Daphne does not loosen her grip.

Instead, her claws extend—from her nails, from her fingers, from her. They press into the prince’s throat, drawing blood.Her eyes change next.

No longer their usual dark color. They shift to a golden, luminous, inhuman color of a predator.

The prince struggles harder. His legs kick. His hands claw at her wrist. His face is turning purple, his lips blue, his eyes wide with the primal terror of facing death.

[Host.]

She does not acknowledge the bird.

[HOST!]

The purple bird claws at Daphne’s hand. Its talons rake across her skin, drawing blood, leaving deep gouges in her flesh.

She flinches.

The pain cuts through the rage,making her eyes clear.

[Notice.] The System’s voice is cold, chanical, final. [If you go any further—even if you kill the main character—you will not be able to et your lover.]

The words hit her like ice water.

Only then does Daphne notice her surroundings.

The world is cracking.

Like a mirror. Like glass. Like sothing fragile that has been pushed too far. Dark fractures spider across the air, across the deck, across the sky.

No one notices this, as if the world breaking into pieces is sothing invisible to them.

She watches as a piece of fog, and sky falls and shatters into tiny pieces, fading into dust and then nothingness.

Only then does she drop the prince.

He hits the deck hard, gasping, coughing, clutching his throat. Smith imdiately rushes to his side.

She walks to the small boats lashed to the deck, secured with large ropes that she sliced with her claws and proceeds to drag the boat with one hand towards the railing.

The Bunny is still silent.

Save for the sound of the boat being dragged across the wood—wood scraping against wood that is rough and jarring in the quiet. Then the thud of it hitting the railing. Then the grunt of effort as she tips it over the side.

Daphne climbs over the railing. Lowers herself down. Drops into the boat.

She grabs the oars.

Begins to row.

The boat glides into the thick fog, slow and steady, cutting through the gray water like a blade. Within monts, her shape is nothing but a shadow. Within monts more, even the shadow is gone.

The fog closes behind her, thick and gray and final.

Through the floating body parts. Through the wreckage of ships—splintered masts, shattered hulls, torn sails still bearing the insignias of different kinds.

It is an eerie sight.

The water is dark. The fog is still. The silence is absolute, broken only by the soft dip of her oars and the gentle lap of water against wood.

Bodies drift past. Faces frozen in terror. Eyes open, staring at nothing. Mouths wide, caught in screams that no one will ever hear.

Daphne does not look at them.

She keeps rowing.