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

After the carcasses were collected, the merfolk worked quickly and efficiently, gathering every last piece into their nets before swimming off toward the only store in the entire nation of Aquis Vanlur.

From what I had gathered so far, it acted as both a market and a storage facility for the community's hunts.

I didn't follow them. Instead, I stayed with Denus. He led me back to his home—The same old cottage we had talked in before.

We settled at his dining table, where a meal was already prepared. The food? Fishes—of course. A fish eating fish… I might have found it strange once, but now that I really thought about it.

It was just another fact of life here. In the ocean, the big fish ate the small fish. That was the unchanging law of the food chain.

Naturally, there was no fire for cooking. The fish was raw, sliced into neat, bite-sized pieces for easy eating. As a side dish, there was something green that resembled kelp, though Denus told me it wasn't.

The taste was surprisingly fresh and crisp, almost like cucumber, but with a faint briny undertone that reminded me I was still beneath the sea.

We ate in silence, the sound of our chewing barely audible against the soft hum of the ocean waves. Once the plates were cleared, we moved to the lounge room and sank into the couch. Denus leaned back, groaning lightly as though relaxing into a long-familiar spot.

"Truthfully," he said after a moment, "I didn't expect you to bring back so many fish. You've managed to break my non-existent expectations. Great job!"

I snorted. "Wow. Quite the way to congratulate someone. Can't say I'm not impressed by your enthusiasm. By the way… do you think everything will go smoothly from here?"

He gave me a puzzled look. "What do you mean by that?"

I rested my elbows on my knees and exhaled. "I meant… don't you think some of the other merfolk might cause trouble? Try to claim the hunted fish for themselves, maybe… stir up problems?"

Denus shook his head firmly. "No, they wouldn't. Hunting is sacred. No one touches another's catch unless the hunter declares it. Even if someone is a complete piece of shit, they don't stoop to that."

I gave a small shrug. "Hmmm. Good to hear, then."

A quiet beat passed between us.

Finally, I stood. "Denus, is there anything you want to do? Or any work that needs to be done?"

He waved a hand lazily. "No, not right now. The next hunt starts tomorrow—that's our main work here, aside from preparing meals. And I happen to enjoy cooking, so I'll handle that myself. If you want to rest, go ahead. Or, if you'd rather, you can explore the city. This entire region belongs to the Yellow-Tailed Merfolk, and we're not especially discriminatory… Also, a lot of people here already know about you."

I hummed in acknowledgment. "Alright. I'll think about exploring… but not right now. At the moment, I'm just tired. I'll turn in early."

He shrugged again. "As you wish. Oh—and tomorrow, there's a celebration for our deity's awakening. You might like it, seeing as you seem to have a taste for history."

Another hum from me. "I'll keep that in mind. Alright, goodnight."

I gave him a small wave as I swam toward the brown door that led to my room. Inside, I all but collapsed onto the bed, letting the deep pull of unconsciousness sweep me away.

…

The next day followed the same rhythm as before. I was up early, shared a simple meal, and found myself once again standing beside Denus. He invited me to join another hunt, and I accepted without hesitation. This time, the other merfolk greeted me differently.

It wasn't that they had been unfriendly before—just cautious, reserved. But now, there was warmth in their eyes, smiles on their faces. They struck up small conversations, asked questions, even laughed with me.

And soon enough, our chatter faded as we swam together toward the dark mouth of the Endless Gorge… plunging once more into its cold, shadowed depths.

Back in the crushing depths, the hunt began the same way it had yesterday—each merfolk scattering into the darkness to seek their prey alone. The moment the shadows of the merfolks faded into the endless black, it was just me, the water, and the faint hum of my own heartbeat.

I swam forward through the oppressive stillness, my movements steady but deliberate. The water here felt heavier. My eyes strained to pick out any flicker of movement, any shimmer of scales in the darkness… but there was nothing. Not even the telltale glimmer of an anglerfish's lure.

That absence was unsettling. Yesterday, at least, I had felt the presence of life, distant shapes, hidden predators watching from the edges. But today? The gorge felt emptier.

Maybe the angler had wandered elsewhere, following its own hunt. Or maybe something bigger had moved into the area, sending everything else scattering.

Still, I kept going, scanning every movement, every ripple of the current. Minutes bled into what felt like hours. My muscles worked on autopilot, carrying me deeper, yet the endless gorge gave me nothing in return.

Frustration started to gnaw at me. My interest for the hunt slowly drained away, replaced with that restless itch of wasted time. And then, in the midst of that monotony, a thought struck me.

'Wait a minute… why am I chasing them?'

The realization hit me like a dart. If I couldn't find prey, then maybe the prey should find me. Instead of scouring the gorge for hours, I could make them come to me.

The anglerfish's trick immediately came to mind—how it dangled its eerie little lantern in the darkness, enticing foolish fish right into its jaws. A beacon in the darkness.

It was a perfect plan. Well… almost perfect.

"I don't have the ability to produce light," I muttered under my breath. My amethyst lightning element could have been ideal for this, but it had been erased somehow, I couldn't tap into it. I kept forgetting that frustrating little fact.

And as for my nothing element? Well, that was the problem—it was literally nothing. Just emptiness. Not exactly a great lure.

I floated there for a moment, scowling into the darkness. 'If I couldn't use light, what else could I use?'

Then the answer clicked. "Aha…"

I'd been swimming silently this whole time, my movements smooth and controlled—exactly the kind of behavior that avoided drawing attention. But what if I did the opposite?

The ocean was full of predators that hunted by sensing vibrations in the water. If I made enough noise—enough chaotic movement—something would come looking for me.

So I started.

First, I kicked harder, sending bursts of current rippling through the dark. Then I flung my arms out wide, swirling in tight, frantic circles. I slapped the water with my arms, twisted, darted, then doubled back again. The current churned around me as I stirred the gorge like a living storm.

The darkness, once so still, now trembled with my wake. My heart beat faster. If anything lived nearby, it would feel this—and it would come.

And then… It happened.

From somewhere ahead, faint but growing stronger, I caught the first hint of movement. A ripple in the current that wasn't mine.

I smiled.

I was finally getting rewarded for my work.