Chapter 6: Utopia - Part 2

Rain was in the dining hall, meticulously running a damp cloth along the length of his long blade. Across the room, Arthur and Sonia sat at a table, facing each other, while Esther paced back and forth like a caged animal.

“Esther, sit down and calm yourself. You’re giving me a headache,” Arthur said with a tired expression.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Sonia chimed in. “Besides, no matter how many laps you do, it’s not going to bring the captain back any faster.”

“It’s been too long already! Shouldn’t we be worried about Holland and the others?” Esther asked, turning to Rain for what felt like the third time.

Rain gave her the same answer he’d given twice before. “Holland ordered us to wait here until he returns.”

What he didn’t share, however, was the captain’s parting command to him before leaving the submarine with Hector and the armed unit.

“If I’m not back in an hour… you know what to do.”

Rain knew exactly what Holland meant. Their past travels together had seen them in similar predicaments—situations where they had to separate. However, those instances were rare. Most of the time, Holland preferred to keep Rain by his side.

Rain had never doubted Holland. The enigmatic captain, known for his cryptic words and calculated decisions, had always proven to be right—time and time again.

Until this journey.

Until Holland met the blonde girl.

Rain couldn’t deny being impressed by Esther’s extensive knowledge of the Sunless Ocean, particularly since she had never set foot on a submarine before. But it was just that—knowledge, theoretical and untested. Both Matthew and Holland likely knew as much, if not more, about this underwater world.

Her role as the ship’s "specialist" had been a recommendation from the president—a position Holland himself had admitted wasn’t necessary for this voyage. Holland was a man of logic, not sentiment. Every choice he made was steeped in reason, and his reasoning had been flawless so far.

So why had he said what he did?

"If she doesn’t come with us… we might all die."

At first, Rain had dismissed it as one of Holland’s usual cryptic musings. Not everything the captain said needed an explanation, after all.

But then came the command, given last week after they docked at the abandoned Soviet base.

"Your primary mission on this journey, Rain, is to protect that girl."

Holland had offered no further explanation, and Rain hadn’t pressed for one. But the directive gnawed at him, leaving him questioning the captain's motives for the first time.

If Holland wasn’t relying on Esther’s theoretical knowledge, what did he see in her?

Perhaps Rain needed to know her better to find the answer.

If only his social skills weren’t abysmal.

Rain frowned slightly as he sheathed the long blade slung across his back. That was when he noticed Esther had stopped pacing and was now staring intently at his sword.

“What is that? I’ve never seen a sword like that before!” she asked, her tone bright with curiosity.

“Holland said it’s called a katana,” Rain replied.

“The sword of the Saipan warriors? Where did you even get something like that?” Esther’s excitement was palpable as she slapped her hands on the table, eyes alight with wonder.

Rain nearly flinched at her sudden enthusiasm. “Holland gave it to me…” He trailed off, his words faltering further under her intensity.

Sonia, seated nearby, raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms. “It’s just a regular sword, isn’t it?” Her tone carried a sharp edge, tinged with irritation. Rain knew Sonia didn’t particularly like him, though he still couldn’t fathom why.

Arthur turned his attention to the discussion, his scholarly curiosity piqued. “No, katanas are quite unique. Most swords from western nations tend to have thick, heavy blades, designed to deliver devastating damage through sheer weight. Those regions were rich in iron ore, allowing for durable armor. Their swords complemented the heavy plate armor, prioritizing power over speed.”

He gestured animatedly as he spoke, his voice taking on a professorial tone. “In contrast, southern and central territories had ample timber for lightweight shields and armor. Their swords evolved to be smaller, more agile, and sometimes curved, to prioritize speed and techniques like disarming opponents or piercing wooden defenses.”

Esther eagerly picked up where her father left off, her voice brimming with excitement. “But the Saipan Archipelago is unique. They forged long, slender blades designed to be as sharp as possible. It's said that only the swordsmiths of Saipan, who passed down their craft from generation to generation, could create katanas with such unparalleled sharpness. Moreover, the Saipan military is the only force in the Sunless World that still trains close-combat units specializing in these swords. They’re called samurai. And there are even legends of famous samurai whose exploits with katanas became renowned across the Sunless World!”

She then launched into an enthusiastic recounting of legendary Saipan warriors, complete with their names, exploits, and dramatic sword duels. As she gestured animatedly, painting vivid pictures of battles, Rain and Sonia exchanged looks, their expressions a mix of astonishment and exasperation.

Rain revised his earlier assessment. Alright, maybe Holland and Matthew don’t know as much as this kid does.

But he couldn’t help but wonder, What’s the point of knowing all this?

As Esther mimed a sword fight with gusto, narrating the tale of a samurai duel as if she’d witnessed it firsthand, the mess hall door swung open. Matthew’s head poked through the doorway.

Before he could say a word, Esther abruptly stopped mid-story and turned to him, her attention shifting instantly. “Is Holland back?”

Matthew looked perplexed as he noticed Rain and Sonia both subtly sighing in relief. “No… the captain isn’t back yet. But he sent some soldiers to fetch the ship’s specialist.”

Arthur stood and approached the door. “So it really is an island, then?”

Matthew’s thick, unkempt beard masked most of his expression, but Rain noticed the man biting his lip—a nervous habit. “You’d better see for yourself.”

“Can I come too?” Esther quickly asked, her eagerness shining through. Sonia straightened, her curiosity clearly piqued as well. Both girls seemed equally eager to see the mysterious island that had so suddenly interrupted their voyage.

Arthur frowned. “Is it dangerous?” he asked Matthew.

“According to the report, it shouldn’t be,” Matthew replied, though his uncertain glance at Rain suggested otherwise.

Rain met his gaze and nodded slightly, signaling that he understood.

With a resigned sigh, Matthew relented. “I don’t think there’ll be a problem.”

“Yes!” Esther cheered, grabbing Sonia’s hand. “Let’s go explore!” Without waiting for permission, she half-ran, half-dragged Sonia past Matthew and out of the room.

“Esther! I didn’t say you could go!” Arthur shouted after her, his frustration evident. But the sound of her hurried footsteps had already faded into the corridor.

Rain stood. “I’ll go after them,” he assured Arthur, hoping to ease the man’s concerns.

…

The Washington floated above the water, parallel to the curved wall. From below, it had appeared as a moss-covered underwater barrier. But above the surface, the structure revealed itself as a sloping shoreline, forming an island that resembled a hill rising out of the sea.

This newfound land was flanked on both sides by towering cliffs stretching in long, straight lines, as if the earth itself had been pinched together but was stopped by this hill. The scene felt unnatural, as though some force had meticulously shaped it, defying nature’s chaotic hand.

The hill’s surface was coated in dark, slick vegetation, with patches of jagged rock jutting out. Strange formations dotted the landscape—lines and grooves too precise to be random.

Holland and Matthew were right. This was undoubtedly the Malamute Strait—a rift in the underwater cliff stretching approximately 20 kilometers. They had sailed through this very spot just a month ago.

But now, the rift was completely sealed off by this hill that had seemingly risen out of nowhere.

The scene before Rain came into view as he stepped out from the pressurized door onto the deck, finding Esther and Sonia already standing there, staring in astonishment. Rain froze, equally taken aback.

It wasn’t the mysterious island itself, rising improbably from the waters, that stunned him.

It was what was on the island.

At the center of the enigmatic landmass stood numerous buildings, illuminated by the warm glow of torches and lanterns. The outskirts, near the coastline, bore signs of cultivated mushroom fields and fenced-off areas that appeared to house livestock. Rain could see people moving about—dozens of them—some heading toward the beach, their curious eyes fixed on the Washington.

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"Are you sure you passed through here a month ago?" Esther asked softly as Rain joined her at the railing.

Rain nodded, his gaze unwavering as he studied the scene.

The buildings, constructed haphazardly from salvaged wood, showed significant wear—weathered edges and surfaces scarred by prolonged exposure to wind and moisture. The mushroom fields had clearly been tilled multiple times, and the current crop was nearly ready for harvest.

Whoever these people were, they had been living here far longer than a month.

Down at the shore, Rain spotted Holland's crimson scarf, standing out against the muted tones of the beach. The captain stood near a metal gangway connecting the ship to the island, flanked by the ship's soldiers and Hector, who held a machine gun with its barrel tilted downward. In front of them was a group of about ten islanders, seemingly engaged in conversation.

Rain noted their attire—ragged and old—but some wore armor beneath their clothes. A few carried handmade weapons like clubs and iron pipes, while others casually slung hoes and farming tools over their shoulders.

As the three youths absorbed the sight, Matthew and Arthur joined them on the deck.

"Stay here," Arthur instructed, his words clearly directed at Esther.

The blonde puffed out her cheeks in protest. "You be careful too, Dad," she retorted, her tone laced with concern.

Arthur offered a reassuring smile before following Matthew across the gangway toward the shore, where the negotiation with the islanders was taking place.

Rain observed as Arthur approached the group, shaking hands with a man who appeared to be the leader. On closer inspection, Rain noticed that the man's armor was makeshift but functional, reinforced with leather and salvaged metal plates.

Arthur and the presumed leader conversed briefly. Eventually, the man turned to his companions, raising his hand in a gesture that seemed to indicate there was no threat. Slowly, the island's armed inhabitants dispersed, some heading back toward the cluster of glowing buildings, while others made their way to the cultivated fields.

Arthur turned toward the deck and waved.

Esther practically vaulted over the railing in her eagerness to respond, sprinting across the gangway with reckless speed.

"Esther! Watch your step, or you'll fall into the water!" Sonia called after her, exasperated.

As Rain prepared to follow, he noticed Sonia staring at him intently.

He paused, unsure why she was looking at him like that. Just as he gathered the courage to ask, Sonia spoke first.

"Can I come with you?" she asked bluntly.

Rain recalled that Sonia was an engineer assigned to the radio unit. She seemed to have become friends with Esther and had been tagging along with her since their stop at the Soviet base. He had seen her passing in and out of the control room a few times but had never spoken to her—no, he’d never interacted with her at all.

Now, she was looking at him with a mix of dislike and distrust.

Rain used to think there was one advantage to being socially aloof: while it might prevent people from getting close, it also meant no one would hate him either.

He was beginning to doubt that single strength.

The engineer’s loose orange uniform hung baggily on her slender frame, unintentionally revealing bits of skin. This, Rain realized, only added another layer to his problems—he wasn’t just bad at talking; even knowing where to rest his gaze had become an issue.

“Well?” Sonia asked impatiently when Rain glanced away and fell silent.

Rain was sure she didn’t actually need his permission to do anything. Still, he gave her a small nod.

With that, Sonia began descending from the ship, leaving Rain to follow, confused as to why she’d even bothered to ask.

As they drew closer, Rain saw that the leader of the island warriors was still speaking with Arthur. The man was middle-aged, his brown beard and hair streaked with white. He wasn’t elderly but was nearing the end of his prime. Rain noticed he was speaking in Soviet—a language Arthur seemed to follow effortlessly.

Holland turned as Rain approached, his brow deeply furrowed.

“A difficult puzzle, isn’t it?” Rain asked, slightly amused that the captain was finally faced with a mystery even he couldn’t solve.

“It seems these islanders are Soviet,” Holland replied, sharing the one piece of information he’d gleaned.

“A genius observation,” Rain deadpanned. As sailors, they had passed through the Soviet Empire before and encountered Soviet crews. Still, the strained political relations between nations meant they’d never had the opportunity to learn the language properly.

Rain glanced at the island leader, who was engrossed in his spirited conversation with their onboard expert.

“Feeling grateful now that you brought a specialist along?” Rain added, his tone needling.

Holland shot him a glare, and Rain decided it was best to keep quiet.

At last, Arthur turned back to the group with an elated expression. “You’re not going to believe what I just heard,” he said, his tone brimming with excitement.

“Then hurry up and tell us!” Hector and Esther practically exclaimed in unison.

Arthur adjusted his glasses, inhaling dramatically, and began to recount the story.

“This man’s name is Dmitri. He’s a priest of the Solaris faith—one of the most widely followed religions in the Sunless World. They worship light, believing it to be a divine gift from the gods. According to their teachings, one day, when humanity has purged all darkness from their hearts, the god of the ‘Sun’ will restore light to the world.”

“The ‘Sun’?” Sonia repeated, struggling with the unfamiliar word. Even to Rain, it sounded strange and foreign.

“This religion teaches that the Sun god hovers above our world, radiating light to envelop the entire planet. They believe that in the old world, humanity could see this god from anywhere, simply by looking up above their head.”

Esther turned to explain to Sonia, pointing upward toward the pitch-black cave ceiling.

Hector tapped his foot against the ground and crossed his arms, his expression a mixture of disbelief and irritation. "A god floating above our heads, bathing the entire world in light? Who’d believe something that ridiculous? Quit wasting my time with fairy tales and just get to the point already!" His glare, sharp and unrelenting, seemed to silently convey, Say one more absurd thing, and I'll—

Arthur coughed awkwardly, clearly intimidated. "Anyway," he continued, "Dmitri said he and the other priests of the Solaris sect had embarked from New Moscow aboard an above-water ship called the Makarov. They spent three months navigating the Siberian route, spreading their teachings, until they were attacked by a fleet from the Saipan Archipelago."

Rain frowned, and he noticed Holland doing the same.

The Siberian route was a well-known maritime path that hugged the frozen shores of Siberia in the northern expanse of the Soviet Empire. It connected Soviet waters to the open seas in the east—a completely different hemisphere from where they stood now.

This puzzle wasn’t unraveling. It was getting more convoluted by the second.

"And then what happened?" Esther prodded impatiently when her father paused for breath.

"Their ship was damaged, taking on water below deck," Arthur continued. "Many of the crew fell into despair. They’d been three days adrift in the open sea, with no coastlines in sight. They were on the verge of mutiny, ready to kill one another..." He hesitated again, much to everyone's frustration.

"Then what?" Hector barked, mirroring Esther’s impatience.

"Amid the chaos, Dmitri claimed he knelt on the deck and began reciting the Sun’s Prayer. He begged his god to save them, to grant his desperate followers a sign of light once more. He said, ‘If light once bathed this world, if the Sun truly once hovered above it, show me a miracle I can see with my own eyes.’"

A hush fell over the gathered crew. Even the grumbling Hector grew silent, and the soldiers, engineers, and sailors all listened with bated breath, hanging on Arthur’s every word.

Arthur licked his lips, clearly enjoying the rapt attention. "And at that moment, this island rose from the sea, directly in front of their sinking ship. Amidst their shock and confusion, they found that the ship had run aground on the newly formed shoreline. In that instant, Dmitri and his followers decided to settle here—on the island their Sun god had granted them."

He went on to describe how the settlers dismantled the wreck of the Makarov to build their homes. The island's soil, enriched by years of moss and algae accumulation, proved fertile for farming. The surrounding waters teemed with fish, and the island's natural springs provided an endless supply of fresh water. "They never truly wanted for food or drink," Arthur said.

"Nearly two months later, a ship docked here. They traded fish for seeds and sawdust to cultivate mushrooms and hardier fungi. Over time, they established a sustainable community. But after about a year, some of the settlers began noticing changes in the surrounding scenery. When they asked the docking ships for their current coordinates, the answers were never consistent. It was as if..."

"The island moves," Esther murmured, finishing her father’s sentence in barely audible disbelief.

No one spoke. Even after Arthur’s story concluded, the room remained silent. Every face bore the same mixture of awe and skepticism.

It’s impossible.

No one dared voice it aloud. Because as outlandish as it sounded, the story made too much sense.

The strait they had sailed through a month ago was now blocked by a mysterious wall.

An unnaturally curved wall that turned out to be an island.

The traces of settlement and construction indicated years of habitation.

And yet…

Rain turned to meet Holland’s eyes again. The captain’s brow remained furrowed, but his expression had returned to its usual calm composure.

They had traveled together long enough, encountering many oddities in the Sunless Sea. But something this unnatural, this flagrantly at odds with reason, was rare even by their standards.

And yet, whenever they encountered such incomprehensible mysteries, the solution was always clear.

"Prepare to set sail," Holland finally said, his tone calm but firm, as he turned on his heel and began walking back toward the bridge.

Esther spun toward him, her face a mask of shock. "Wait! How are we supposed to get past this island? Isn't this strait the only direct route to Alaska?"

Holland didn’t stop or even glance back as he ascended the gangway. "We'll turn around and take another route. It may add months to the journey and take us far out of the way, but there’s no alternative."

Esther wasn’t ready to give up. "But—"

Holland cut her off, his voice sharp. "The riddle we set out to solve isn’t here, Esther. Our goal isn’t to uncover every secret of this ocean. There are countless mysteries in this world we’ll never have satisfying answers for. Believe me when I say it’s a waste of time—and I won’t risk the lives of my crew for it."

Her shoulders slumped, and she looked so small and dejected under the captain’s reprimand that Rain felt a twinge of pity. It seemed Matthew, perpetually softhearted, felt the same.

"Captain," the first mate began hesitantly, choosing his words with care, "if we were to take the detour around this strait, it would take over a month for certain. We’d have to pass through the Nile route and around Africa. The nearest port along that path is in Egypt—much farther than our current stores can support. We'd need to resupply..."

Holland turned, his face unreadable. "You’re suggesting what, exactly?"

"As first mate, I recommend we secure additional provisions while we still can," Matthew said, finally gathering the courage to look Holland in the eye.

Esther perked up, catching the implication in his words.

"A few hours of engine downtime wouldn’t hurt either," Rain added nonchalantly, more to antagonize Holland than out of genuine concern.

"I think exploring the livelihood on this island could be quite enlightening," Arthur chimed in, his enthusiasm plain.

Holland’s gaze swept over his crew, the ones eager to investigate the island’s mysteries. His expression betrayed a mixture of annoyance and exhaustion.

"Don’t tell me you’re serious," came Hector’s growled mutter, low and tight with frustration. But no one paid him any mind.

"Three hours," Holland finally relented, his voice clipped. "Matthew, you handle the resupply."

Without another word, he turned and strode up the gangway, leaving the group behind. Esther’s delighted cheer echoed after him, followed closely by Sonia’s.

Hector shot Matthew a scathing look. "Soft-hearted idiot," he muttered, though his tone was more resigned than angry.

"I’m heading to negotiate for food," Matthew quickly excused himself, grabbing Arthur to act as a translator and escaping the group before Hector’s irritation could escalate.

Rain glanced at Esther, who was jumping up and down in excitement alongside Sonia.

He thought he might be starting to understand, just a little, what Holland saw in this blonde-haired girl.

But then again, maybe that was just another mystery he’d never get the answer to.