Back at the port, the port officer, Martin, watched with a grimace as a fourteen-year-old boy carried a boat on his head and a massive demon fish in his hand. "Why is he taking the boat home? There's plenty of space here," he muttered, exasperated.
"He probably thinks you charge for storage, too," the village chief teased, a glint in his eye.
"What nonsense?" Martin snapped, his voice sharp as if his tail had been stepped on. "Do you think I'm swindling children out of their money, Chief?"
The chief laughed heartily. "Of course not. The boy had lost touch with the village since his father vanished. He seems strong, full of mental fortitude, but he's grieving, cutting ties with the world." He sighed. "It'll take time for him to open up. I hope his grief doesn't lead him astray."
The chief's tone grew serious. "Investigate the boy. Find details on his parents. I have to go; there's much to do. Take care, Martin." With that, he walked away.
Martin stood, his gaze complex as it followed the chief and then lingered on Calen, now a distant figure with his boat. He let out a long sigh. To his right stood a tall shed, its sturdy metal beams rising fifty meters. Ten shelves, each holding up to a thousand skiffs—the villagers' boats—filled the structure. His face darkened as he looked at it.
To his left, outside his office, a bureau with a ten-by-ten grid of drawers sat under the roof's shade—all hundred drawers brimmed with standard fishing hooks of various sizes, restocked weekly by port staff. Martin's expression soured, as if he'd bitten something bitter.
"Daniel!" he barked, summoning his assistant, a port worker nearby. Who is also one of the ten awakners of the village. "Make a sign stating fishing hooks are free for all and place it atop the bureau. Then make another, larger sign: every villager is entitled to a skiff storage shelf, with instructions for registering a new one. Hang it in front of the storage, clearly visible. After that, bring me everything you have on Calen Vorys—the boy with the Demon Angler Fish—and his parents."
Martin trudged back to his office, his face gloomy. Daniel, left bewildered, scratched his head. "Why write that down? Doesn't everyone in the village already know?"
…
Calen trudged along the main road stretching from the port entrance to the village's far end, dividing the island through its heart. Aligned perfectly westward from the port, it framed the sun's descent, making it seem as if the village swallowed the sun. This, his father had explained, was why they called it Sunset Village.
Calen once asked, The road also offered a perfect sunrise view toward the port, so why not Sunrise Village. His father, flustered and stumped, finally said, "Sunset matters most—it means you've safely returned from the sea." Now, gazing at the orange glow, Calen felt the truth of those words. A faint smile crossed his lips, his father's memory warming him.
He glanced at the blood-soaked Demon Angler Fish in his hand, its weight a silent testament to his triumph. He wished his father could see it. As he walked, unaware, the port's witnesses had spread tales of the blood-soaked boy who'd brought back A Demon Angler Fish and was awakened by eating its flesh.
Gossip raced through the village, growing wilder with each retelling. Some claimed he dove into the ocean to hunt the fish; others spun vivid accounts of his battle. The news of a fourteen-year-old awakener and his heroic awakening buzzed, each version more exaggerated than the last.
Oblivious, Calen reached his home in the village's southwest corner, a secluded plot near the island's edge overlooking the sea. A narrow trail through a small forest patch separated it from the residential area. The small stone house, topped with wooden shingles, housed a kitchen, a hall, and a modest bedroom.
In the front yard, Calen gently set his boat down. For some reason, he felt like being suffocated and mentally tired, but he brushed it off to the con of a newly awakened. He carried the demon fish to the backyard, where a fish-cleaning area sat beside the bathroom. Placing the fish down, he opened the tap, washing away blood and grime. Soon, it gleamed, marred only by stab wounds and the chunks he'd eaten.
Calen turned the fish to face him and pried open its mouth. Sharp, triangular teeth jutted in chaotic rows, easily over a hundred. Using his heightened senses, he found two nearly identical in size and shape. With his enhanced strength, he plucked them effortlessly, planning to craft a necklace to mark his awakening.
He met the fish's glossy, lifeless eyes. "Thank you," he murmured.
Reaching for the pouch the village chief gave him, Calen marveled. He hadn't known awakeners received money, but as village welfare, he'd accept it. Counting a hundred silver coins—one gold coin's worth—he stood dumbfounded. One silver equaled a hundred coppers; one copper was enough for a day's food for him. A bristlemouth fetched ten coppers, and his father left only four silvers when he vanished. Now, a hundred silvers for awakening?
He tucked the pouch securely into his belt and bathed, then changed into worn clothes his father had bought when he was eleven. They felt tight, his growing frame straining them. I need new clothes, he thought. Securing the belt and pouch, he grabbed a cloth sack, stowing the fish and teeth, and left to sell the fish and have its pearl removed. As he left the house, he felt the suffocating feeling subside, but didn't pay it much attention.
He reached the market in the village's northwest, a vibrant hub of shops selling fish, vegetables, fruits, medicines, and more. Stopping at the largest store, its sign reading "Aether Medicine and Treasures," Calen recalled his father mentioning special baits sold here. He assumed they'd buy his fish.
Inside, a saleswoman pitched products to a middle-aged man. Before Calen could ask about the Demon Angler Fish, a deep voice called, "Over here, boy." He followed it to a middle-aged man in a stylish black half-robe with gold-thread patterns, a white shirt beneath. Though Calen couldn't see below the counter, he sensed fine attire.
A faint threat emanated from the man, akin to the port officer's but less intense than the chief's. "You must be the new boy who awakened at sea today," the man said, his eyes locking onto Calen.
Calen blinked, shocked. "Yes, how do you know?"
"The whole village knows we have a fourteen-year-old awakener who brought back A Demon Angler Fish," the man said, a teasing lilt in his voice. "But I know it's you because of the bloodlust you keep emitting, like a starving shark."
"Bloodlust?" Calen asked, puzzled.
"Did everyone avoid you like the plague since you returned?" the man asked. Calen hadn't noticed—people ignored him normally. But today, despite carrying a massive fish across the village, no one approached. He nodded, acknowledging the truth.
The man grinned. "Did you feel like an insect about to be squashed when you met the chief?"
"Yes," Calen replied instantly.
"Did you think he was targeting you?" The man chuckled. "That's your bloodlust. You must've had a rough time before awakening. It's usually triggered when awakeners fight for too long, exhausting their psyche. It heightens some senses while dulling others. You're hypersensitive to threats, feel active and energized, but sense less pain and exhaustion, thinking less logically. It creates a faint Aether domain around you, making normal people and weaker creatures fear you."
"How do I recover?" Calen asked, panic rising.
"No big deal," the man said. "Sleep well tonight, and you'll be fine by morning. The chief likely assumed you'd rest after going home, so he didn't explain." He laughed.
Calen exhaled, relieved. He didn't want to break himself on his first day as an awakener. The man smiled. "I assume you're here to sell the Demon Angler Fish?"
"Yes," Calen said, extending the sack. "Can you tell me how much it's worth?"
The man peered inside. "With the pearl, I'd offer ten gold coins: just the body, one gold. I'd give two if it weren't so stabbed up. But my advice: don't sell the pearl. It will be useful to you in the future, and you won't be able to buy one later once you've sold it. I'm sure the chief said the same."
Calen, briefly stunned by the prospect of ten gold, reconsidered. Money seemed easier for awakeners, and this was the second person urging him to keep the pearl. "I'll take one gold for the body," he said. "Can you remove the pearl for me? And can these teeth be threaded into a necklace?"
The man tugged the pearl gently, and it came free. "Here's your pearl. As for the necklace, it's not worth the effort. Drill holes and tie them with strong string." He pulled a bundle of black string from a shelf, cut a two-foot length, and handed it to Calen. "That's plenty. Add more teeth as you kill rare ones," he said, chuckling.
He then took the two teeth, using a pen-like drill to bore holes for threading. "There you go," he said, handing the teeth back to him. Reaching into a drawer, he produced a gold coin and asked, "What's your name, boy?"
"Calen, Calen Vorys," Calen replied.
"Alright, Calen Vorys, I'm Vaylor. Don't forget me when you catch something big next time." He handed over the coin.
Calen smiled, pocketing his first gold coin. He tied the teeth 'pendant' around his neck. "Thank you. I'll return if I need anything," he said, leaving the store.