He used Hrothgar like a stepping stone, throwing himself high into the air toward the incoming shell.

The shell continued toward him like a truck, and the two collided, but just before they could touch, Galthor's hand snapped forward in a punch that caused a mini sonic boom around his fist.

Hitting the shell was like hitting a mountain, and it sounded almost the same as well, sending a painful ripple down his right hand even with all the divine energy covering it.

The shell wasn't any better though; an imprint of a fist was smacked at the top, and the whole thing had come to a sudden halt that sent waves crashing around it.

Galthor didn't let go of the opportunity as he used his left hand to grip the edge of the shell and pulled himself to its back. The shell shook and shuddered, but he held on stubbornly.

"Now what?" Galthor whispered. "This shell has no life in it. What I felt earlier was likely the will, the intent behind it that's driving the shell."

And now that he was atop it, the shell had stopped moving entirely and stood still like a drifting object.

"Chief, what are you going to do? Should we come on top too?"

Galthor shook his head. "No. Everything about this thing is fishy. We won't rush into doing anything."

Galthor had realized that it was probably a trap, and he didn't want the masters, who were weaker than him, to enter into it before he could confirm what was wrong with it.

He cast his senses out again, and yet all he got was a fuzzy connection from the shell he was standing on to a nowhere he couldn't trace.

He bent down and placed his palm on the shell. "It must have been a terrible monster indeed when it was alive. But what could have killed it? And even brought us here. What a strange occurrence."

Just as sudden, the trap sprang.

Sea water sprayed upward, gushing so violently that the whole shell shuddered, rocking the ship and almost overturning it.

Galthor fought to keep his footing, all the while his eyes widened when he saw something rise from the water. "The turtle... is coming back to life?"

But even as he said that, he knew it wasn't the real thing. It was a turtle head, alright, but it wasn't made of flesh and blood. The head that turned toward him like a coiling serpent was made entirely of condensed sea water.

Galthor grimaced. "Something like this is possible? Is this really the work of a cursed monster?"

The water monster's mouth opened, a growl like a crocodile hissed out from its maw as it snapped forward with a terrible speed akin to a snapping turtle, but thirty times faster.

Galthor jumped back, his foot sliding on the shell as he was sent tumbling by the force from the closing fangs. But before he could be sent entirely off the thing, his hands came down in a blur and he dug them into the shell to keep his hold.

"...How does one kill a monster that's not alive? That's clinging to a shell?..."

From the audiobooks that he'd listened to, the only way to deal with such things, even undead, was to destroy them entirely, especially the things they used to manifest themselves.

Without hesitation, Galthor formed a fist and directed his divine aura into it, then punched. The first punch caused a cracking dent, and the second shattered through as if it were made of dry mud.

Even though the water monster was inhuman, surprise still flickered, and its cheek swelled before bursting open as a beam of pressurized water shot out.

Its opponent was long gone, though.

Galthor had already smashed his way into the shell, causing devastation from the inside. By the time the water head would form inside the shell, he had already done enough damage to weaken it.

In the next seconds, he destroyed the whole thing entirely, leaving pieces of shell floating on the sea.

Galthor clapped. "Alright, you guys can come up now. I'm done here."

The masters swarmed to him and climbed atop the shell.

"What do you think is happening here, Chief?" Ashclaw asked.

"We don't know much. All we know is that the thing hunting us can make the water extremely cold and at the same time create water-shaped attacks in the forms of monsters."

Karathra grunted. "We need to get out of here. If this is a pocket world as you said, then it might be the work of the monster's initiate power or the work of a relic."

"Monsters can use relics?" Galthor asked, his voice tainted with surprise.

"Monsters, just like relics, usually appear in places where the essence and energy are highly concentrated. So it's not that unusual for monsters to come in contact with them. Even if they can't use the relics well, they'll still be able to use some of them. They might even gain heightened intelligence more than their peers. That's why, to hunt relics, we look for powerful monsters."

Galthor digested the information, but then he frowned. "Shouldn't there be some kind of tools to point out where there's a high level of power concentrated?"

Karathra gave him a blank look. "Of course there is. But we're barbarians."

But we're barbarians. That word sank into Galthor's mind like a stone that weighed a ton. Meaning, because they were barbarians, they weren't worthy of using the things that others used? They had no power to take such things for themselves.

What about now?

Galthor smiled. "Of course, we are barbarians. Something we will be proud of. Tell me, Karathra, how do you think we can get out of this place?"

She hesitated. "The best option is to force the monster out, if it's a monster. For all we know, it might even be another being. But either way, if we can force them out..."

"And the other option?" Galthor asked.

"This place can't be as big as it seems, and there must be a corner to it. Walls. If we can destroy it."

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