"Alright, what's this now?" Crow’s voice cut through the frigid air, cold and unyielding as he stood over the trembling figure his crew had hauled from the icy water. His one sharp eye scanned them, taking in their soaked and shivering form as they coughed and gasped for breath, clinging desperately to the warmth of life.

Behind them, the sea was a graveyard of wreckage. The remains of a nearby hunter ship drifted across the waves, broken planks and scattered supplies serving as grim evidence of the raw power of the sea beasts that prowled these waters. The storm still whispered its lingering fury, and the bitter cold bit at the exposed skin of everyone on deck.

Crow’s expression remained impassive, his features hardened from years of encounters just like this. He’d seen it happen too many times before—ships pulled under, men and women lost to the depths, their bravery or recklessness no match for the monsters they hunted. It no longer surprised him, and the sight of survivors, when there were any, barely stirred him.

Still, he lingered for a moment, his gaze fixed on the figure, his cold demeanor betraying nothing of the quiet calculations ticking away in his mind. Another harsh reality of life at sea, another reminder of its unforgiving nature.