Transmigrated as the Cuck.... WTF!!!

I leaned forward slightly, voice steady but pointed. "See, what I'm trying to get across is this… The Red Sea is your deity. You revere it, yes, but in exchange for safety. So, using it to save your skin isn't heresy—it's strategy. Think about it, Denus… would a deity you worship truly grow furious over something so trivial? Especially if it meant preserving the lives of its people?"

His expression shifted. The color in his face drained a little, but his gaze remained steady, fixed on me. I could see the weight of my words working on him—not cracking his resolve, but pressing against it.

"Don't think too much about it now," I said, letting my tone ease, as if throwing him a rope after dragging him into deep water. "Take your time. I've just… stated things plainly, based on what I've seen in my own life. My truth doesn't have to be your truth. And I'm not here to shatter your ideals—just to show you a path. One that, admittedly, benefits me as much as you."

I rose to my feet, brushing off invisible dust from my clothes. "Denus, take some time. A week from now, we'll talk again, and we can argue it then. Until that day…" I turned toward the door, "…it's goodbye."

I had only taken a few steps when his voice cut through the silence.

"Wait!"

I glanced back over my shoulder. "Yes?"

He met my gaze directly. "Where are you going to stay? You don't know this place, and you aren't acquainted with anyone here."

I gave a careless shrug. "Truthfully? I don't know. I might drift around, sleep wherever I can, and scavenge for food until I find something better."

He hummed in thought, his tail flicking idly before he spoke again. "Alright then… how about you stay with me? I have a spare room. I live alone. You'd be welcome—if you don't mind working for your keep."

I smiled faintly and clapped my hands together. "Perfect. I'll take it. And yes, I'll work. But I can only hunt. Hunting's my specialty it's what I do best."

A smirk played across his lips. "Good. Then tomorrow, you'll come with me on the hunt. It's late now, so if you want to rest, go upstairs—the room with the brown door is yours."

I gave him a short nod. "Thanks. A real bed would be a blessing."

Turning toward the upper level, I waved over my shoulder. "Oh—and tomorrow, I'll make sure to surprise you with my skills. Try not to be too scared of me."

His laugh followed me up. "Ahahaha! Let's see if your skills are half as sharp as your confidence, Arawn."

The "upstairs" wasn't really upstairs at all. There were no stairs—just a door set into the upper wall, which you had to float up to reach. I drifted toward it, pushed it open, and stepped inside.

The room was simple, functional. A chair and table sat in one corner, a modest closet against the wall, and in the center, a bed framed in stone and topped with thick, sponge-like padding. A soft glow radiated from patches of bioluminescent grass in glassy containers, casting the space in gentle green-blue light.

It wasn't lavish, but it had a quiet beauty to it—understated, practical, and somehow welcoming. I didn't linger. I threw myself onto the bed, sinking into its strange but surprisingly comfortable surface. My eyes closed almost immediately, and sleep claimed me in minutes.

…

The next day, I barely had time to stretch before Denus was calling for me. His voice carried a sharp eagerness—too eager, for someone who'd only just offered me hospitality.

I knew what it was. He wasn't excited to hunt with me. He wanted to measure me, test me. His friendly tone, his broad smirk—it was all a façade. Exactly like mine.

Without wasting time, he led me out of the main bloc and into the deeper reaches of the city. We descended further and further, past coral structures and sponge walls, through narrowing channels and drifting schools of silver fish, until the ocean around us darkened.

Then, we emerged into a place that felt… terrifying.

Before us stretched a gorge.

Everywhere my eyes wandered, there was nothing—nothing but a vast, suffocating darkness that swallowed all light. It wasn't simply the absence of color; it was as if we'd crossed some unseen threshold into a different plane of existence altogether.

Where we'd come from, the water had been clear enough to glimpse the swaying coral beds, the lazy drift of sand along the seabed, and the darting shapes of smaller fish.

But here… here the ocean had turned into a gaping void. It was emptiness made tangible, a black so deep it seemed to eat sound and thought.

I shifted my gaze toward Denus, who hovered beside me with several other yellow-tailed merfolk. Their faces were calm but their stillness felt brittle.

"What is this place?" I asked, my voice sounding smaller than I'd intended. "How can anyone hunt in a place like this? Do you… have some sort of ability to see here?"

Denus shook his head slowly. "No, we don't. And that's why hunting here is extremely difficult. It demands years of experience, relentless practice, and—" he gave me a pointed look, "—an unshakable mind. Without all three, you don't come back."

A humorless chuckle slipped past my lips. "Hahh… madness."

That's what this was, pure madness. Plunging willingly into a place where you couldn't even see a meter in front of you, where your senses screamed at you to turn back. Hunting in this black expanse wasn't just dangerous—it was courting death.

I studied the faces around me. Some bore scars, some had the hard-set jaws of those who'd seen too much, but all of them had the same quiet tension in their eyes.

'So that's why Luris said they couldn't live with the other merfolk,' I thought. 'It's not just isolation—it's desperation. These people don't have the experience the others do. They'll throw themselves into this gorge over and over, losing lives needlessly, just to claw their way toward skill.'