The ebb and flow of the tide comes like a breath

Let's go more. Waves are no longer random. The ebb and flow of the tide comes like a breath The way to go? The way to go??? As if someone is grabbing this sea again. At that moment. It's starting to rain. But this rain It's not falling from the sky. In the ocean, It's rising up. The water drops are rising like backflows You hit it in the air, The collision becomes a magical phenomenon. Naird stops. “…This is not a natural reaction." I also feel the dryness. The grass in the rain doesn't rot. But it doesn't grow either. stationary water. The fog thickens. In it Shapes reappear. Salt-relic happens first. The salt crystals attract each other It approaches slowly but persistently. Dried food is immediately available an iced spray shot. The cold debris is spreading slow the growth of the crystal layer. I won't miss that opportunity an ice shot. The balance within the decision is broken Salt-relic is He can't bear his weight and collapses. in the fog Arms appear. a mist clutter. the moment you touch it The body temperature and direction are blurred at the same time. Naird sets up a sword. It's not a sword The angle at which the flow of water itself is cut. Once, Short. The fog cracked The arms are blurred again. The sea floor is ringing. The coral is moving. The coral breaker He approaches with a puffy body. Dryers keep their distance. a series of shots. The frozen arrow The moment you freeze and fix the coral gap Naid is digging in. Iced chabel. I'm not cutting it It makes you crumble. Coral debris explodes The membrane of water absorbs the shock. then, The stream of water is woven together. Tide Weaver. The route is twisted The space itself folds. The dryer immediately changes direction. It's not shooting. Instead of It aims at the boundary between land and water. a stone arrow. The space seal is untied Tide Weaver is It doesn't maintain its shape. from a distance A broken hull approaches. Brace line. Oh my. at the same time as the crash Ghosts are pouring out. Naird steps forward. A lot of grief. It's not a sword a wave-like trajectory. Ghosts are It scatters without making a sound. But the fight It's not over. Seaweed tentacles Hold on to your ankle. Sleeping kelp. The dryer immediately falls back. an ice shot. The tentacles froze Drowsiness can't spread. The electricity is distorted. The bibliographer It expands by swallowing sound waves and lightning. "This is me." Naird says. Put the sword on the floor. not electric water that spills electricity. overload. Surgeeter is They can't stand themselves and collapse. as such Let's get rid of the monsters The rain stops. No. The rain is at a standstill. water droplets floating in the air. at the center of it The vortex opens slowly. The dryer takes your breath away. "Now I know." Naird nods. "Yes. This ocean doesn't create a disturbance “…I'm singing it." beyond the whirlwind an unnamed place. And there Someone I'm already waiting.