The wind that brushed Sea God Island felt subtly changed. Though the sun still shimmered upon the water's surface, and waves still broke gently against the shore, there was an odd, underlying quiet—a waiting.
Bo Saixi stood atop the highest balcony of the Sea God Hall, her pale gold robes fluttering faintly, her eyes trained on the temple's eastern wing. She had not slept in days, not since the sea stirred beneath the boy's voice. Hai Shen Ling's resonance with the Siren's soul had gone beyond anything she'd foreseen. She had thought herself prepared—for his awakening, for the truths he might unearth.
She had not expected the sea to sing back.
Behind her, Sea Dragon Douluo approached, his normally fierce presence softened by awe.
"It's changed him," he said quietly.
"No," Bo Saixi replied, her voice distant. "He's remembering who he's always been. We just... never knew how to listen."
In the depths of the coral sanctum, Shen Ling sat cross-legged within a circle of sea-glass. Aeloria's spirit shimmered faintly at his back, not fully visible, but ever-present. The five soul skills he now carried—Siren Echo, Soul Lure Mirage, Song of The Abyssal Trial, Voice of The Abyss and Song of Aeloria—each pulsed with an emotion that was not entirely his own.
It was the first time in his life he felt full—and also hollow.
The Song of Aeloria had not simply gifted him power. It had burdened him with memory.
So much sorrow. So many names without tombs. Songs without singers.
And worst of all—silence. That brutal, echoing, suffocating silence that had swallowed them for centuries.
"I don't know how to carry it all," he confessed aloud.
From the chamber's entryway, Sea Ghost Douluo's quiet voice replied, "Then don't carry it alone."
Shen Ling opened his eyes.
One by one, the other titled Douluo had arrived, not as superiors, but as witnesses.
Sea Dragon stepped forward first. "Show us, Hai Shen Ling. Let us hear it—not as your elders, but as your people."
And he did.
For the second time since the storm, Shen Ling raised his voice.
This time, it was not a lament. It was not a call. It was recognition. A bridge formed in sound, carrying his thoughts, his fears, and the weight of those long forgotten directly into the hearts of everyone present.
The Soul Skill activated.
Not with light or fire, but with feeling.
In Sea Star Douluo's chest, something clenched. A memory of a child he once failed to protect.
Sea Spear Douluo gasped as the voice unearthed a vision of his brother—lost in the Leviathan surge five years past.
Even Sea Dragon, hardened by centuries of battle, knelt to the ground, gritting his teeth, not from pain—but from remembrance.
Shen Ling's song was not a blade. It was a mirror.
It showed them their pasts—not to haunt them, but to heal.
When the last note faded, no one spoke.
Sea Woman Douluo, tears streaking her usually unreadable face, stepped forward.
"The sea does not forget," she whispered. "And now, neither can we."
Bo Saixi descended slowly into the chamber.
She said nothing at first. Just knelt before the boy she had raised as her own.
"You are not only the Sea God's child," she said. "You are the sea's memory."
She stood.
"And it's time we began your next step. There is a place... far beneath. A ruin untouched by waves. It holds the last echo—the truth buried deeper than even Aeloria dared reach."
Shen Ling looked up. "What is it called?"
Bo Saixi's voice was both reverent and sorrowful.
"The Chamber Beneath Still Waters."
The entrance to the chamber had no door—only a silent veil of water, still and unyielding as glass. Hai Shen Ling stood before it with his hands at his sides, shoulders rising and falling with calm breaths. But within, his soul surged like a tidal current.
Bo Saixi, her presence serene yet brimming with gravity, gave one last nod. "Once you pass through, you cannot turn back. The chamber listens, but it does not forgive silence."
Shen Ling nodded. "I understand."
And then he stepped through.
What greeted him on the other side was not darkness but light—blue and cold and vast. The walls of the chamber were translucent, alive with whispers. It was like walking inside a living shell, where every sound echoed infinitely.
In the center of the room stood a stone platform, and upon it rested seven obelisks—each inscribed with a language that had long died from the surface world.
As he walked forward, the ocean pressed tighter around his chest—not physically, but spiritually. This was where truth lay dormant. And it was here that his five soul skills began to stir.
Siren's Echo, the first soul ring, bloomed at his side. It cast a soft ripple of sound across the chamber. Where it passed, the water shimmered with resonance.
Soul Lure Mirage, his second soul skill, followed—casting illusions from emotional memory. For a moment, Shen Ling saw the image of a young woman kneeling in prayer, her song rising toward a moon that no longer answered.
Then, the Song of the Abyssal Trial surged. The chamber's floor trembled. This soul skill—his third—was a command. A call to judgment. Shadows twisted across the stone as echoes of deep-sea creatures loomed beyond the walls. But none attacked. They listened.
Next came Voice of the Abyss, his innate soul skill—a gift born not of beast but of sea. It flooded the chamber in soundless noise. Meaning without voice. Memory without language. It awakened the slumbering scripts upon the obelisks, which now pulsed with light.
And finally, Song of Aeloria ignited—shining not with brilliance, but sorrow. The spirit of the first Siren emerged beside him again, her gaze fixed upon the obelisks.
Together, they began to sing.
The five soul skills merged in cadence, amplifying one another. The chamber transformed under their unity. Murals etched into stone flared to life: images of sirens dancing on moonlit tides, of Sea God emissaries reaching down in judgment, and of chains—their links forged from guilt and silence.
One by one, the obelisks began to hum.
"You've awakened more than power," Aeloria's spirit whispered beside him. "You've awakened memory—buried, bitter, but not dead."
Shen Ling stepped forward, each breath now steady. "Then let it rise. I will face it."
At the final obelisk, his soul core pulsed sharply. Not in pain—but readiness.
The chamber responded. Water condensed into a figure, tall and faceless. Its body bore the shape of a siren, but its song was dissonant—a broken echo of Aeloria's voice. It attacked with silence, not force. A drowning of memory.
Shen Ling activated Siren's Echo to deflect it, but the silence resisted.
"Not enough," he murmured.
He followed with Soul Lure Mirage, conjuring the memory of the First Choir's lament. The silence cracked, but did not break.
Then—Song of the Abyssal Trial. His third soul skill roared like a depth call, forcing the shadow back.
Still, it clawed forward.
He stood fast.
Voice of the Abyss unfolded like the sea's heartbeat.
And then, together with Aeloria, he sang the Song of Aeloria—their final harmony surging into every crevice of the chamber.
The silence shattered.
The figure dissolved.
And from the broken shards of its form, a new song took shape.
A memory made flesh.
A final truth:
The Sirens had never been forgotten by the sea. Only by man.
And Hai Shen Ling, born of sea and sorrow, now held the right to restore what time had erased.
When he emerged, the chamber behind him dimmed once more. But the resonance it left in his soul did not fade.
Bo Saixi waited at the threshold. She did not speak. She only opened her arms.
And Shen Ling, for the first time since entering that songless abyss, embraced her.
"I heard them," he whispered.
She nodded, a tear falling. "And we heard you."
The chamber behind Shen Ling closed, and the silence left behind was no longer hollow. It was filled with breath, with meaning—etched now into the very strands of his soul. He stood before the obelisks once more, the last of their echoing resonance fading into the stillness.
But in his chest, the weight had not lifted. It had changed. It had become his.
The five soul skills that pulsed within him no longer felt like foreign tools—they felt like limbs, extensions of a legacy chosen for him, and now embraced.
He turned and began the slow walk back toward the light.
Above, the gathered Sea God Douluo stood in a circle of reverence. Sea Star, Sea Ghost, Sea Dragon, Sea Spear, Sea Woman, Sea Fantasy, and Seahorse—all silent, all waiting.
When Shen Ling emerged, the room felt as if it held its breath.
Bo Saixi stepped forward. Her eyes gleamed with tears, but her voice remained steady. "Speak."
"I sang," Shen Ling answered softly. "And they sang back."
"What did you learn?" Sea Woman Douluo asked.
Shen Ling hesitated for only a moment. Then he looked up—not just with the gaze of a boy, but with the clarity of a soul who had peered into the forgotten deep.
"The sea remembers everything. Every pain, every joy. And the Sirens... they were not broken. They were buried."
Sea Spear Douluo's brows furrowed. "Then what is your role?"
"To unearth them."
He raised a hand, and Song of Aeloria shimmered behind him. Then Voice of the Abyss, a silent roar. One by one, the rest of his soul skills flared in turn—Siren's Echo, Soul Lure Mirage, Song of the Abyssal Trial.
But it wasn't just a show of power.
Each skill now bore resonance. A purpose.
"They're not tools," Shen Ling whispered. "They're truths."
The Sea God Douluo knelt, one by one.
Sea Dragon spoke, "The sea chose wisely."
Sea Star added, "Then we follow you into the depths."
Bo Saixi stepped beside Shen Ling and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You are no longer just the child the sea brought me. You are now its voice."
He turned to her, eyes glistening. "I am yours, Mother."
She smiled. "And I am always yours."
The gathering turned from ritual to communion. One by one, the titled Douluo offered their memories—tales of the ocean's call, their own trials, the sacrifices they had made. It was no longer teacher and student, protector and protected. They were now all echoes—vessels of the sea's forgotten truth.
A new bond formed.
And above them, the tides turned.
Far from Sea God Island, across the expanse of ocean, the surface trembled. Creatures of the deep stirred. Whirlpools long dormant blinked open like eyes.
The world did not yet know it—but a new voice had risen from the silence.
And soon, the world would be forced to remember.