The underwater world.
Scattered coral reefs dotted the landscape, their colors dim, yet colorful little fish occasionally darted through the crevices.
Aoyama swam forward with smooth strokes, his movements fluid.
Underwater, he felt no sense of suffocation.
He maintained a moderate pace, his gaze constantly scanning the surroundings.
Having learned his lesson from the Velociraptor-like creature, he remained highly vigilant in this part of the ocean.
The deep water always harbored the unknown, and he had no desire to become the appetizer for some massive marine creature halfway through his swim.
“No sign of any large fish.” He noted that the fish schools around him were all small to medium-sized, and there were no traces of large predators in the coral reef area.
This allowed him to relax his guard slightly, but he still continued his regular side-to-side scans.
After an unknown amount of time, the shipwreck’s silhouette grew clearer.
As Aoyama drew closer, he realized the ship was much larger than it had appeared from the shore.
Its hull stretched roughly seventy meters in length.
The vessel lay tilted at a thirty-degree angle, embedded in the seabed.
While its upper structure broke the surface, most of the cabins below deck were submerged.
“Hope there’s something good here.” Aoyama swam to the side of the hull and found a relatively intact porthole.
The glass had shattered, leaving only a jagged ring of shards around the edge.
He gripped the window frame, using it to pull himself up to the surface, then scrambled onto the tilted deck by stepping on the exposed metal exterior.
“Anyone here?” Aoyama slowed his pace as he heard voices.
They were coming from inside the cabin—stifled, hoarse, and rhythmic.
He didn’t rush in.
Instead, he crouched on the tilted deck, scanning his surroundings.
Only after confirming no other people or creatures were nearby did he cautiously move toward the cabin entrance.
The hatch was half-open.
Aoyama squeezed through, entering a narrow, dimly lit corridor.
The voices echoed from deep within.
“…What about the food?
The dry rations you promised yesterday?” “I haven’t eaten in three days…
Please, just a little…” “Shut up!
Keep whining and we’ll throw you all overboard!” Aoyama leaned against the wall at the corridor’s bend, tilting his head slightly to peer toward the voices.
The room was relatively spacious, likely a crew lounge.
Fifteen people were huddled in a corner, their faces gaunt, their clothes in tatters, their eyes hollow and numb.
Their cheeks were sunken from starvation, their lips cracked and dry.
In the center of the cabin stood three men.
They shared the same burly build, thick beards, and cold, vigilant glares.
The leader had a fire axe tucked into his belt; the other two held an iron pipe and a hunting knife, respectively.
Empty tin cans and food wrappers were scattered across the floor at their feet.
The man with the iron pipe spoke, glancing at the survivors.
“Boss, these people are getting more defiant.” “Should we kill a couple more to set an example?” “Waste of energy.
Just let them starve.” The leader spat on the floor and kicked an empty can with the toe of his boot.
“Once they’re too weak to move, they’ll stop complaining.” “Anyway, the supplies on board are enough to last us three a while.
Once the storm dies down in a few days, we’ll find a chance to leave this place.” “What about these people?” “Why do you care?” “When we’re gone, they can live or die however they want.” Leaning against the wall, Aoyama listened to the exchange, his eyes narrowing slightly.
Three men, controlling fifteen survivors who were so starved they were too weak to even stand.
They had monopolized the ship’s supplies, and these people had been imprisoned here for a long time.
The numbness from enduring prolonged fear and hunger was almost overflowing from their eyes.
And their mental and physical strength are all nearing their limits…
He didn’t rush to strike.
Aoyama’s hand reached for the compound bow on his back.
But after a moment’s thought, he let go of the bow arm.
“I’ll use the knife.” The best approach would be to close the distance quickly, take out the one with the axe, and then deal with the other two.
He also noticed a detail.
Although the leader was speaking, his gaze kept darting toward the corridor on one side of the cabin.
The door there was half-ajar, and a faint, warm yellow light spilled out, suggesting someone was inside.
“There’s a fourth person.” Though he possessed the strength to kill them in an instant, Aoyama didn’t alert them.
He remained cautious, moving silently along the corridor and circling to the other side of the cabin.
Peering through a broken porthole, he confirmed that the room inside the corridor was a cramped crew cabin.
It contained a bed, a metal locker piled with supplies, and a tall, thin man dozing on the bed.
Beside him lay a…
crossbow for spearfishing?
Four of them.
Aoyama withdrew his gaze and reassessed the situation.
Four adult males, split between two adjacent spaces: three in the outer cabin, one in the inner cabin.
The three in the outer cabin were relatively spread out—the leader stood in the center, the man with the iron pipe was near the left doorway, and the one with the hunting knife leaned against the right wall.
I won’t hold back, then.
He took a deep breath.
Then he moved.
His speed, bolstered by his Herculean Strength Ability, wasn’t as fast as a dinosaur’s, but it was far beyond that of an ordinary human.
The moment he stepped out from the corridor’s corner, he had already locked onto the axe-wielding leader.
The man’s back was turned to him.
The three-meter distance was closed in less than half a second.
Before the leader could even turn his head, Aoyama’s hand had already clamped around the wrist holding the axe.
The sickening crack of splintering bone exploded through the cabin, and the leader let out a blood-curdling scream.
“Aaaahhh—!!!!” Without a shred of hesitation, Aoyama delivered a lethal strike, ending the man’s life.
“What?” Hearing the commotion, the man with the iron pipe spun around.
He stared in shock at the unfamiliar face before him, then swung the pipe toward Aoyama.
Aoyama didn’t flinch.
He caught the pipe mid-swing, yanked it, and wrenched the burly man off-balance, pulling him forward.
Aoyama stepped aside and delivered a swift, chopping blow to the back of the man’s neck.
“Where did you…
come from…” The burly man let out a muffled grunt and collapsed to the floor, completely unconscious.
The man with the hunting knife had the fastest reaction.
He had charged the moment Aoyama seized the iron pipe, his blade aiming straight for Aoyama’s ribs.
“Who the hell are you?!” Aoyama didn’t say a word.
He stepped aside, letting the blade slip past him, and lashed out with his right arm.
His palm slammed down on the back of the man’s knife-hand, the sheer force sending the blade flying from his grip.
The knife spun through the air and embedded itself into the wooden ceiling panels, its hilt still quivering.
“Are you kidding me?!” The man’s eyes widened.
Before he could even make a second move, Aoyama was already upon him.
The man swayed twice, then collapsed limply to the floor.
“One more.” From the moment he’d charged from the hallway corner, Aoyama had taken only a few seconds.
Three grown men had just been removed from the biosphere.
“Holy shit!” “Hahaha!” The survivors huddled in the cabin’s corner let out muffled gasps and sharp intakes of breath.
A few men even tried to stand, but their legs gave out, and they fell back down.
After the initial cheers, they stared in terror at the drenched teenager in a school uniform before them.
Because right behind him lay the three vicious bodies.
“…” Aoyama ignored them.
He picked up the fire axe from the floor and strode toward the half-open passage door.
As he pushed the door open, the tall, thin man inside was already awake.
Hearing the commotion in the outer cabin, he was frantically grabbing the fish crossbow from the bed.
But before he could even raise the crossbow to aim, Aoyama was already in front of him.
“Damn it!
How could there be anyone else hiding on the ship?” “Who the hell are you?!” Aoyama slammed his foot down on the crossbow’s limb, and in one fluid motion, he swung his axe down.
A headless corpse collapsed.
Aoyama glanced down at the fish crossbow, then at the supplies scattered on the bed.
“Four.” He confiscated the crossbow and stepped over the unconscious man to leave the room.
The outer cabin was still plunged in deathly silence.
The survivors huddled in the corner, their eyes fixed on him with a mixture of terror, confusion, and a faint glimmer of hope.
No one spoke, as if the words were choked in their throats.
“…” Aoyama gave them a cursory glance, then turned and walked away to search the other cabins for usable supplies.
He had no intention of interacting with the survivors.
His objective here had been clear from the start: Search for usable supplies, then return to the beach.
As for the rest, they could pray for their own good fortune.
Before long, he found a storage locker in the outer cabin.
Inside were several kitchen knives, a few aluminum mess trays, and a stack of paper cups.
But what pleased him most was the fire axe still in his hand.
Sturdy handle, edge a bit dull but well-maintained.
Better for chopping than a machete.
He tucked the axe into his waistband, selected two razor-sharp kitchen knives, wrapped them in cloth, and stowed them in the backpack he’d scavenged.
As he passed the metal locker filled with supplies, he glanced inside.
It contained several boxes of compressed biscuits, canned goods, bottled water, and a few medicines and bandages.
“Ssss!” Good stuff!
He swiftly stuffed them into his backpack and continued deeper into the cabin.
At the end of the hallway, a door stood half-open.
Pushing it wide, he found a passenger dormitory.
A thin quilt remained neatly folded on one of the beds, and a cabinet stood in the corner.
Aoyama pulled open the cabinet door.
Inside hung several articles of clothing, a waterproof jacket, and a neatly folded plastic storage bin.
“That’s it?” He lifted the lid of the bin, revealing a few more pieces of clothing folded inside.
Aoyama rummaged through them and realized they were women’s clothes—likely left behind by a passenger.
He pulled out a black dress and felt the fabric.
It was soft and smooth, with a modest neckline and a hem that fell to the knees.
“Hmph…
Indecent!” “Taking it.” He pulled out two more dresses of a similar style, a dark gray bodycon skirt, and several shirts made of what looked like high-quality fabric.
“How ungentlemanly…
I’ll take them.” Aoyama’s expression remained unchanged as he rolled the clothes up and stuffed them into his backpack.
At the bottom of the bin, he also found a sealed package of black stockings and a few pairs of lace panties.
There was even a rather provocative “stepmother-style” dress.
It had black lace trim, a V-neck that plunged below the chest, a cinched waist, and a hem so short it barely covered the tops of the thighs.
Aoyama went silent for a second.
“…” After a moment’s thought, he folded the “stepmother-style” dress and stuffed it in as well.
What if she wants to wear it?
Before long, Aoyama had completed his scavenging mission.
He had methodically packed all the useful clothing and daily necessities into his backpack: towels, toothbrushes, soap, and even a palm-sized mirror.
What a haul!
Looting and scooping is always the fastest way.
As Aoyama passed through the crew area with his bulging backpack, the survivors huddled in the corners of the hallway remained in their original positions.
No one moved, and no one made a sound.
Aoyama glanced at them.
“You’re free.
There are still some things you can look for yourselves.” With that, he turned and walked away.
Behind him, a wave of suppressed gasps and low whispers followed.
“Time to go back.” As he stepped out of the cabin door, the sea breeze blew against him, dispersing some of the lingering scent of blood.
He took a deep breath, feeling the salty air fill his lungs.
Then, he leaped into the azure sea once more.