Chapter 01: Losing Everything To Hope

  _In the realm of destroyers, I'm a protector._

  “Row, row… row your boat,

  Gently down the stream.

  Merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily—

  Life is but a dream…”

  Ewin murmured the nursery rhyme under his breath—not while maneuvering the boat, but as a mental refrain to steady his nerves.

  In the pre-dawn gloom, with only the feeble glow of the stern's guidance lights, he methodically emptied the crab traps he had set days earlier.

  He tossed the live crabs into a modest tank filled with seawater to preserve their freshness.

  Meanwhile, his small potting boat was gradually succumbing to the persistent drizzle, water steadily infiltrating every crevice of its hull.

  After resetting the traps for the next day's catch—destined for his successor—Ewin grabbed a bucket and began bailing out the accumulating water.

  With every forceful swing, the boat shuddered, but the liquid level showed no sign of receding. Despite the mounting downpour, he persisted, driven by a silent urgency.

  His aching back protested, and his faded yellow raincoat clung to him like a second skin—more of a burden than a shield. Only the grip of his trusty black rubber boots kept him from sliding off the slippery deck.

  ‘It’s your last day, Ewin. Don’t complain. Just shut up and do it.’

  He chided himself, his thoughts merging with the rhythm of the rain.

  Seeking solace, he returned to his refrain:

  “Row, row… row your boat,

  Gently down the stream.

  If you see a crocodile,

  Don’t forget to scream—”

  “Ahhh!”

  An unexpected exclamation burst from his lips—a cry born of both irony and genuine pain. One of the larger crabs had snapped its claw onto his finger as he leaned over to clear more water.

  The searing sting in his index sent shockwaves of agony through his arm.

  In a moment of reflex, he hurled the bucket aside, his face contorting in a mix of frustration and disbelief.

  Clenching his jaw, he bit his lip to stifle another scream.

  He stared at the persistent crab, its grip as if it were exacting retribution for the comrades it had lost.

  Without much deliberation, Ewin wrenched the creature free—a tug that amplified the torment—and flung it into the tank with its companions.

  In a cool, detached tone he announced,

  “You’re the first one sold today.”

  Still shaking off the pain and frustration, Ewin made his way to the sputtering outboard motor at the stern.

  The boat itself was diminutive and narrow—just enough room for a few measured steps. It resembled a typical poling skiff, albeit with a striking new blue coat on the hull and an antiquated motor that clearly belonged to a different era—a dissonance that mirrored his own inner turmoil.

  ‘Angel, one last time before retirement.’

  He whispered to the engine as though it were a trusted comrade.

  With a few firm pulls of the cord, the motor grumbled to life, and the boat nudged forward, bound for yet another trap.

  Perhaps the sting from the crab was the price of his final venture—since, gradually, the rain began to ease.

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  The first rays of dawn broke over the horizon, casting a soft golden glow as the receding clouds unveiled the splendor of the rising sun. The sunlight shimmered on the river, and Ewin’s boat sliced through a vast lotus pond, its beauty momentarily disturbed by his wake.

  After gathering the last of the crabs, he steered his vessel to the fish market to sell his meager haul to his regular buyer.

  “Come on now! This is my final haul. You’ve got to offer me more than your standard price!”

  He insisted with a forced grin, his tone attempting charm. The buyer, however, merely arched an eyebrow. Before dismissing him, Ewin coolly retorted,

  “If you can find better crabs than mine today, I’ll give you mine for free.”

  Despite the lingering aroma of fish and the stained overalls that betrayed his hard labor, Ewin navigated the negotiation like a seasoned fisherman. Yet at just sixteen and barely a year into his trade, the stakes were already astronomical.

  ‘Still not enough…’

  After a lengthy haggling session, he finally secured a price that was decent—but it still fell short of his lofty goal.

  With the transaction complete, Ewin trudged over to the boat owner’s place.

  “Why in the world was the boat filled with water?!”

  The owner barked, his tone harsh and accusatory.

  Ewin merely exhaled deeply, a resigned sigh escaping him as he silently facepalmed his own misfortune.

  Without uttering another word, he set the money on the table and turned to leave.

  “Come back here, brat! Pay for the damage! “the owner roared after him.

  Ignoring the taunt, Ewin pressed on. His head hung low as he walked down the street, pulling his blue hoodie tighter to avoid any unwanted stares. The pervasive fish odor ensured that passersby gave him a wide berth.

  Eventually, he arrived at his destination—a narrow, grimy alley exuding a pervasive silence and faint traces of urine.

  At the far end, obscured behind what once appeared to be an abandoned dispensary, stood a peculiar door shaped like a counter.

  Ewin rapped on it. After a brief moment, a robust man clad in a sleek black suit emerged from behind the counter.

  “What’s the damage?”

  The man inquired curtly, sliding a piece of paper and a pen toward Ewin.

  Without hesitation, Ewin scribbled down a figure that most of his peers could scarcely imagine even in their wildest dreams. Even a lifetime of fishing wouldn’t earn him anywhere near this sum:

  *1,000,000.*

  The suited man regarded the number impassively, made a few quick phone calls, and finally responded,

  “Fifty percent interest, payable over ten years.”

  Six million was the total repayment—a sum that loomed over him like an insurmountable mountain.

  ‘Six million…’

  Yet, with a subtle smirk betraying his determination, Ewin nodded. He had no alternative; this was the singular route to realizing his dream.

  The man quickly filled out a terse contract—a stark white sheet bearing ominous stipulations in hurried scrawl.

  The document outlined the loan amount, a rigid payment schedule, and a chilling clause:

  > “Based on the debt size, Party B’s body parts may be used as compensation or exchanged for items of equivalent value—even if a single payment is missed.”

  > “Should Party B become a Gatekeeper and perish within SeaGate, their remains will be surrendered to Party A for research, irrespective of the loan term.”

  Gruesome and unyielding, yet desperate, Ewin signed without a flicker of hesitation.

  He handed over his life’s savings as the down payment, watching in silence as the man bundled the cash into a small, unassuming bag and remarked with a thin smile,

  “Pleasure doing business.”

  With the money secured, Ewin made his way to an internet café.

  There, his trembling fingers placed an order he had been nurturing for as long as he could remember—even though a storm of doubts whispered,

  ‘Is it worth losing everything?’

  “It is worth it!”

  Ewin convinced himself, his gaze fell upon the large chamber pod resting in the center of his sparse apartment.

  Delivered only a few hours earlier, it stood pristine despite the laborers' grumbling about the narrow entryway.

  The apartment itself was a study in minimalism—no kitchen, no refrigerator, no bathroom.

  Just a long, empty room with a threadbare mattress in one corner, and now, this remarkable chamber pod.

  Sleek and industrial, the immersion chamber featured an armored gray exterior accented with bold yellow lines, its reinforced glass canopy promising complete sensory isolation. Twin coolant coils hissed softly as they maintained optimal neural temperatures.

  As he admired the pod, Ewin reached out and pressed a button on the side handrail. The transparent lid, framed by segmented armor plating, lifted slightly to reveal glowing interface lights that danced across its surface, echoing his own racing heartbeat.

  It resembled more a life-support vessel than a gaming console—but to Ewin, it was the vessel to his future.

  Sliding into the chamber, he nestled into the built-in slots that cradled his hands.

  Blue lights whirled around him as the lid sealed shut, cocooning him in an embrace of anticipation. His heart thundered in his chest, matching the pulsating glow that now filled the space.

  A soft, mechanical female voice then filled the pod:

  [Welcome to SeaGate: Treasures, Trials, and Gatekeepers.]

  [Are you prepared for the Trial?]

  And with that, his final chapter began.