Chapter 18: The Siren’s Song: A Deadly Symphony

Why is the trident, often dismissed as trash, considered overpowered in the Sea of Illusion?

The reason is simple: its weapon skill.

The trident’s skill allows the user to walk on water for a brief moment.

A short-lived but remarkable Jesus experience.

The skill lasts for one minute, but its cooldown is five minutes, making it nearly impractical for combat scenarios.

Even in the Sea of Illusion, utilizing this skill effectively is challenging.

The key lies not in the active effect of the skill but in its passive abilities.

When equipped, the trident allows the user to breathe underwater, prevents stamina depletion, and increases swimming speed by 50%.

In short, it grants immunity to drowning.

At first glance, these features sound impressive.

However, they offer little combat advantage and are difficult to leverage in most situations.

Essentially, the trident is almost useless in regular battles.

But in the Sea of Illusion, the story changes.

While the Jesus experience might be secondary, the passive effects become exceptionally powerful.

With immunity to drowning, one can leisurely dive underwater and fish until the game ends.

Of course, attacking opponents aboard a ship from underwater is impossible.

But the same applies to the enemies.

In the late game, when the safe zones shrink further, ships become useless, transforming from assets into liabilities.

Moreover, equipping the trident renders one nearly invincible during certain events.

For instance, there are other events besides ghost ships, and these are arguably the main ones.

So, why didn’t the previous captain of the ship I took over use the trident?

The answer isn’t complicated.

While the trident is overpowered for survival, its combat performance remains lackluster.

Its strengths lie entirely in non-combat utility.

Also, there’s minimal room for growth underwater.

This means that while using the trident increases the likelihood of survival, it requires an entirely unconventional strategy.

Considering the effort it took to obtain a large ship, it’s logical that the previous captain wouldn’t risk deviating from conventional strategies.

Honestly, I would’ve made the same choice if it weren’t for my current playstyle.

But right now? Who cares.

“This is amazing.”

I finally obtained the trident.

Grinning from ear to ear, I left the captain’s quarters.

NPCs on the ship snapped to attention as I passed, bowing their heads respectfully.

“Thank you for your guidance, Captain!”

“Yeah, keep up the good work,” I replied casually before heading to the deck.

After a quick stretch, I waved to the crew.

“Well then, take care. Hope we meet again someday.”

“…Captain?”

Without hesitation, I jumped into the sea, bidding my ship farewell.

By leaving the ship while wearing the captain’s hat, I ensured no one else could claim ownership.

Consequently, the crew would now attack any player as pirates.

Not my problem.

I no longer had any business on the surface.

Diving into the deep sea, I swam leisurely, enjoying the calm.

Looking down, the endless abyss of the ocean stretched below.

Anyone with thalassophobia would faint on the spot.

Personally, I wasn’t afraid. Still, I knew better than to dive too deep.

Going too far down triggers the appearance of sharks, which would snap me in two without hesitation.

As long as I stayed in shallower waters, there was no need to worry.

I swam forward while checking my watch.

Thanks to its state-of-the-art waterproof system, the watch worked perfectly even underwater.

What a marvel.

The increased swimming speed ensured I reached the safe zone without difficulty, even faster than a raft.

I embraced the tranquility.

With the trident in hand, survival until the endgame was guaranteed as long as I didn’t draw attention.

Honestly, how could anyone kill me while I was underwater?

At best, they’d try not to drown themselves.

I just needed to embody the mindset of a fish.

Right now, I was nothing more than a small, defenseless fish in terms of combat power.

Meanwhile, they were an inferior species who couldn’t even breathe underwater.

What business did air-breathers have in the sea without gills?

Exactly.

As time passed, I spotted a large ship moving in the distance.

“Hmm, I’m bored. Should I go check it out?”

A quick check showed that 14 players were remaining. They were probably lying low on their respective ships.

Even though it was late in the game, fatalities would remain rare until the safe zone fully closed in.

In the Sea of Illusion, it’s common for many players to die during the initial ship battles, followed by a dragged-out sequence of waiting.

Thanks to the other ship’s slower speed, I caught up to it without much difficulty.

Of course, I had no intention of surfacing, so being near the ship didn’t mean much.

The only thing I could do, really, was eavesdrop on their conversations.

I paused and listened, but the ship was occupied solely by NPCs, none of whom were talking to themselves.

Then it happened.

“Huh?”

A faint melody began to reach my ears.

The moment I heard it, my eyes sparkled.

An event had begun.

When you combine sea and illusion, only one thing comes to mind.

The sirens.

Mythical mermaids who lure sailors with their enchanting songs.

Unlike ghost ships, which leave players alone unless boarded, sirens are incredibly dangerous and must be avoided at all costs.

The song grew louder, and soon enough, I saw sailors leaping into the water from the ship.

When enthralled by the sirens, victims instinctively throw themselves into the sea, desperate to get closer.

Of course, none of them ever reach the mermaids and end up drowning instead.

Dozens of NPCs plunged into the water. Their glassy eyes, resembling those of addicts, betrayed their trance-like state.

All had fallen under the sirens’ spell.

One by one, water filled their lungs, and lifeless bodies began to float on the surface.

It was a gruesome sight, but I observed it from up close with morbid fascination.

If only I had some popcorn, it would’ve been perfect.

The sirens’ menace doesn’t stop at eliminating the ship’s crew.

Players who hear the song will also succumb to the charm.

Once affected, you lose control and dive into the sea against your will.

The only ways to avoid it are to block your ears or tie yourself down.

If you’re not prepared, hearing the song is practically a death sentence.

“Oh, there goes another one.”

I silently offered my condolences to the player who dove headfirst into the water.

May they rest in peace.

Why wasn’t I affected, you ask?

Simple I was already underwater.

The whole point of the siren event is to drag players into the ocean.

If the weather in this game had been a bit sunnier, survival might’ve been easier.

But with this stormy weather, violent winds, and rough waves?

Once you’re in the water, survival is nearly impossible.

I swam closer to the floating corpse of the recently deceased player.

After quickly looting their belongings, I resurfaced for the first time in a while.

Thanks to the sirens’ song, no one nearby posed a threat to me.

“Oh. Found it.”

On a rocky outcrop, a beautiful mermaid sat.

Truthfully, this event isn’t all bad.

Sure, the risk of drowning is high, but if you can reach the siren, the rewards are incredible.

And with the trident? It’s a guaranteed win.

I immediately activated the weapon skill and walked on water like Jesus.

The siren froze in shock as I approached.

Climbing onto the rocky outcrop, I gave the trembling mermaid a sharp slap on the back.

“Hurry up and hand it over!”

“Wahhh…”

Tearing up, the siren dove into the water.

I didn’t bother chasing it. My goal was the scales it left behind.

The Siren’s Scales.

Classified as a secondary weapon, these have phenomenal capabilities.

They allow you to play the siren’s song once. As a bonus, the caster isn’t affected.

Why is this so overpowered?

Because it’s an area-wide crowd control (CC) skill that can incapacitate or even kill everyone in range.

“Perfect. With this, first place is guaranteed.”

Before, the trident alone made combat awkward, often leading to missed opportunities.

But with the siren’s scales, its only weakness was eliminated.

The rest of the match went exactly as I planned.

I wandered the sea leisurely, waiting for the safe zone to shrink while the other players fought each other.

Finally, during the endgame, I used the scales.

Splash.

Game over.

That’s how I secured first place in all three matches using nothing but the trident.

“Whew.”

When the game ended, I removed my headset, greeted by deafening cheers.

The commentator was so excited it felt more intense than a professional tournament.

Honestly, it was a bit overwhelming. Was it really that big of a deal?

I only realized later it wasn’t just a big deal.

It was absolute pandemonium.