The world used to look like pure wasteland to me.
But the longer I spent with Linneya—so innocent, so bright—the more the world seemed to change shape.
Things I’d never once cared about mattered to her: every stone was an artwork; every rolling cloud, a moving painting. Every day was a brand-new story. She sketched the mountains we passed… and named them “waves of the sea.”
She told me that even in the dark, the miracles and the beauty never truly leave us. They stay where they are, waiting to be seen again.
But as the last human alive, she carried loneliness and pain, too. I had seen her cry when she thought she was alone—then wipe her tears the moment she noticed me, and give me a smile.
I tried to talk to her about it once. Her answer was cheerful, playful.
“Since your girl’s become an endangered species, I should at least autograph you.”
After that, a string of her name appeared on the left side of my chest armor, ending with a little dog sticking out its tongue (she insisted it was a bunny).
And after Stella, I became the second-closest person in her world. Ever since I installed her father’s arm, she would fall asleep in my embrace so often I could hear her murmuring in dreams:
“Dad… don’t get on the ship. Can we go to the underground city instead…?” Or, “Don’t go. Don’t leave me alone…”
Slowly, I began to feel something I’d never experienced before.
A sense of responsibility? Or the feeling of being needed?
I couldn’t tell the difference. But I knew this much: I would use everything I had to protect her.
Even if we’d reached another dead end.
***
After Wyatt led everyone to the mountaintop, the rain kept falling for two more days without pause. By now, the mountain had become an island—and as the water rose, that “island” shrank a little more every day.
The cost of that night was still painfully clear. Every robot Wyatt had been controlling had terminated after taking on water. Minks’s circuit board had burned out; whether he would ever wake again was unknown. Big Blue’s frame had flooded so badly that Wyatt had emergency-shut him down before he could burn out—he still didn’t dare restart him. Only Eisen had made it through, but like Wyatt, his movement commands still glitched at times.
At dawn, Stella did what she’d done the day before—umbrella in hand, walking the waterline in a full circuit. When she climbed back into the supply truck, her face was dark.
“The water passed my mark from yesterday,” she told Wyatt. “It’s rising faster than we estimated.”
“Mm.” Wyatt nodded.
He was busy sealing his joints with grease. The thick sealing oil came from the supply truck’s bearings—dense, sticky, and water-resistant.
“I still can’t believe it,” Stella said. “Wyatt… you really think this was done by some unknown species?”
“Yes.” Wyatt didn’t look up. “The more I see, the more certain I’m. I don’t know how they did it—but they gave me hints.”
“Okay, but… why would someone with godlike power do this? Isn’t their enemy Phantom Forge?”
“It’s also Julian,” Wyatt said. “Ever since the oceans dried up, Phantom Forge and Julian have both built about seventy percent of their bases, factories, and defenses on the seabed. This flood has to be catastrophic for both of them. If I were them—and I could do it—I’d do the same thing. Nothing is more efficient.”
“If that’s true,” Stella sighed, staring into the distance, “then the rain isn’t going to stop.” A few low ‘islands’ she’d seen yesterday were already gone today. “We’re in what used to be the Starsea Ocean. It was the deepest ocean on Lansen, with the fewest islands. This mountain is going to drown sooner or later.”
“Ten days at most,” Wyatt said. He sounded almost calm.
Stella caught that immediately. “You’ve already thought of a way out, haven’t you?”
“Yes.” Wyatt’s voice stayed steady. “I’m going to build a boat.”
“Build… a boat?” Stella blurted.
“Last night I talked it through with Dorian and Eisen,” Wyatt said, continuing to grease the seams of his leg joints. He was meticulous—he left no gap where water might slip in. “Our three freight cars are sealed. If we bolt them together, they’ll float. We add a propeller and a rudder, mount the engine… and use the solar sail we brought from the Sunflower. It’s light and tough—perfect for a sail. Put it all together, and we’ll have a ship that can travel the sea.”
As he spoke, he kept working. “If we can’t fly,” he said, “then we go by water.”
“Will that actually work?” Stella asked.
“No problem. I tested it in simulation.”
Stella blinked, processing. Then she pouted a little. “So… you’d already planned everything. And nobody told me.”
“I was coming to tell you,” Wyatt said. “But you vanished first thing this morning.” He paused. “Uh… would you help me grease the seams on my back? We’re about to get very busy…”
…
First, Wyatt stretched the solar sail into a canopy over the mountaintop platform, so they wouldn’t have to work in the rain. Then, with Eisen and Dorian, he spent two days stripping the supply truck down to a pile of parts.
Wide steel plates would be welded into a V-shaped prow to split waves. The engine would be mounted at the stern, driving a propeller through a shaft. Steel beams and cables would become connectors between the freight cars—Wyatt used his 2D Blade to trim them into equal lengths. And the shuttle bay they’d once planned to use as an aircraft fuselage was set on the rear-middle section to serve as the cabin on deck.
Stella and Linneya wanted to help, but quickly learned it was all heavy labor. After they insisted anyway, Dorian assigned them to gather bolts and fasteners from the scrap.
Another day went to separating the three freight cars from their undercarriages. The undercarriages were too heavy and got abandoned, but the wheels were removed—later, they’d be fixed to the sides of the ship to add stability and to buffer impacts with hidden reefs.
Once everything was ready, they began assembly on the fourth day.
Wyatt fetched a welding torch and started joining the cars—only for Dorian to shout him down.
“No welding, Captain Wyatt! Only bolts and rivets!”
“Why?” Wyatt frowned.
“Buoyancy isn’t even,” Dorian explained with stern seriousness. “The boat will rock constantly. Over time, welded joints will fatigue and crack. We need to give the metal room to flex.”
“So that’s why…” Wyatt finally understood why Dorian had made Stella and Linneya collect bolts.
…
The downpour never let up. Aside from recharge breaks, they worked day and night. Four more days passed. The ship—a very ugly trimaran—was almost finished, and the water was now less than two meters below the platform.
At dusk, everyone gathered at the edge. All around them was open water. Aside from two or three higher ‘islands,’ there were no other peaks in sight.
“The water’s rising faster again,” Wyatt said. “Looks like we’re two days ahead of my estimate.”
“This island will be underwater before sunrise,” Eisen judged after a quick scan.
“But we still have work to do,” Dorian said uneasily. “The rudder isn’t installed, we haven’t raised the sail, we haven’t pressure-checked the cabin seals… If we had one more day—”
“We don’t have one more day,” Stella said. “We’ve one last night.”
So they kept grinding in the rain. To gain speed, Wyatt took the risk of restarting Big Blue. Thankfully, Big Blue didn’t short out like Minks had. Once Wyatt explained what had happened, Big Blue threw himself into the work.
The water crept up in the darkness. By the time they finished mounting the rudder, it had washed over their feet. Linneya lay flat at the stern, urgently waving them aboard. Stella swept the camp with her lamp one last time, checking for anything left behind.
Then she shouted to Wyatt, “What about those wings? Are we not taking them?”
Wyatt hesitated a few seconds, then shook his head. “No. We won’t need them.”
Dorian added with regret, “Yeah. We… can’t fly anymore.”
At daybreak, the trimaran shuddered as the water finally lifted it free.
A while later, the sky brightened. Dorian started the engine. The propeller spun, and the ship began to move.
Stella let out a long breath and finally relaxed. Linneya clapped and cheered.
Big Blue stared at the world around them. Everything he’d once known had vanished. In its place was an endless sea.
“So this is the ocean?” he murmured. “Not what I imagined. I don’t like yellow oceans.”
“Once the mud settles, it’ll be blue,” Eisen said.
“I don’t like yellow oceans either,” Linneya said.
“Then let’s look forward to it together,” Big Blue said, gently bumping his steel fist against her tiny one.
That was when Wyatt received a message from Eisen.
“Captain Wyatt… can you come down alone? I’m in the left cabin.”
It was sent over short-range wireless—urgent.
Wyatt went up to the deck, then down through the left hatch into the cabin. Eisen was there, staring into a corner.
“Eisen. What’s wrong?” Wyatt asked.
“How many days to reach the Arctic, Captain?” Eisen asked without looking away.
“Maybe twenty. Or fifteen. I’ve never traveled by sea, so I can’t be sure.”
“Then we’ve got a new problem,” Eisen said.
“What problem?” Wyatt’s systems jolted.
Eisen pointed to several wooden crates that had been pried open. “Look at the orange beans. A few days ago, this car took on water. We were rushing and didn’t notice. All our orange beans… they’ve been soaked to rot.”
“Is that all of them?” Wyatt froze. His gaze swept the crates—and the weight of it hit him. “All of them were stored here?”
“Yes,” Eisen said, hollow. “All of them. I was going to make Linneya breakfast. The kitchen was empty, so I came to grab more…”