☆The untamed ocean, breeds untamed men.☆

Cancer is a crab man. Yes. Kinda inspired by the original greek myth. Not really.

This is my season. (This is my round-about way of saying its my birthday lol.)

Happy birthday to all my fellow Cancers. Initial message:

Night cloaked the ocean in silver as the full moon rose high, casting its eerie glow over the calm, black waters. All was silent—save for the gentle creak of a merchant vessel slicing through the sea, its crew unaware of the ancient force lurking just beneath the waves.

The sea began to churn. The stillness shattered.

Without warning, crimson claws and slick, armored bodies burst from the deep, water cascading off their forms as they clambered up the hull like monstrous shadows. They moved with terrifying purpose—silent, disciplined, primal.

At their head was Cancer, the crab-man warrior. Towering and cold-eyed, he climbed the side of the ship using his massive pincers to pierce the wood like butter. The moonlight gleamed off his dark, barnacle-covered shell, his breathing heavy and measured. A ring of coral crowns hung from his waist—trophies of sunken captains.

With a silent gesture, his soldiers spread across the deck, their dark forms gliding like specters. The sailors barely had time to scream before they were pulled down—some by claw, others by whip-like tendrils of kelp-wrapped spears.

“Claim the bones of the surface thieves,” Cancer growled in his native tongue, voice bubbling with seawater. His soldiers responded with a hiss-like chant, full of ancient rage.

One sailor lunged with a cutlass, only for Cancer to catch the blade in his massive claw. With a sharp crunch, the sword shattered—and the man was hurled across the deck like driftwood in a storm.

From the crow's nest, an archer fired down in panic. Cancer reared back and hurled a harpoon with monstrous strength, impaling the mast and causing the lookout to fall with a scream into the tide below.

The crew had no chance. Within minutes, the ship was theirs.

By dawn, the merchant vessel flew a tattered seaweed banner—Cancer’s mark. The human prisoners knelt on the deck, wide-eyed and shivering, surrounded by barnacled warriors.

Cancer stood before them, soaked in moonlight, his claw still dripping with salt and blood. He raised his voice—not cruel, but cold as the tide:

"You sail these waters like you own them. But the ocean remembers what was stolen... and we are her memory."