I became a god through archaeology in the Wizarding World.

The deep-sea area is about fifty nautical miles from Plymouth Harbour, with a depth of 1,200 meters.

This is a land of eternal night, untouched by sunlight, where immense water pressure can crush steel into thin sheets.

A massive shadow is slowly moving through the fault canyon on the seabed.

The once invincible deep-sea lord, the Corrupt Black Tide Whale.

It has long lost its former glory.

Its massive body, stretching over a kilometer, was completely blasted apart from its abdomen downwards, leaving only its upper body, a blurry mass of flesh and entrails, wriggling laboriously in the seawater.

At the break, countless black buds were growing wildly, trying to re-weave bones and muscles, but this regeneration consumed a lot of its vitality, making its originally oppressive aura extremely weak.

On top of that enormous whale head, the whaler sat cross-legged.

His condition wasn't much better than his mount's.

The magnificent dark blue priest's robe had been reduced to tattered strips, hanging on his body.

The pale skin was covered with burns and cracks from impacts, and dark blue blood flowed down the wounds, dripping onto the whale's skin and being absorbed immediately.

"Damn it... an ancient weapon."

The whaler opened his narrow eyes, the cross-shaped starlight in his pupils dim and lifeless.

He pulled out a piece of still-pulsating biological tissue from his pocket—a piece of a bioluminescent sea monster liver—and stuffed it directly into his mouth, swallowing it without even chewing it.

As the blood-infused food entered his stomach, a trace of color finally returned to his pale face.

"The etheric singularity explosion... How could that person possibly possess that level of authority?"

The whaler murmured to himself, his voice traveling through the seawater via spiritual vibrations.

He knew very well that although the Titan was a fourth-ring level creation, it was an inanimate object.

To detonate its core power reactor, extremely high levels of mental guidance and complex key authentication are required.

That ant-like figure standing on the breakwater, the human exuding a chaotic siren aura, was definitely not an ordinary wizard.

"Gurgle... gurgle..."

The Kuroshio whale beneath him let out a painful low cry, conveying an extremely intense sense of hunger.

Regeneration requires energy.

A large amount of energy.

The whaler glanced coldly around.

This is a secret stronghold of the Deep Sea Church, known as the Corpse Trench.

On both sides of the trench, many honeycomb-like holes have been built against the rock walls.

Countless low-ranking Deepseas and mutated merfolk huddled in the cave, trembling as they watched their severely wounded lord return.

"Eat."

The whaler pointed to a group of caves on his right.

There lived approximately three thousand low-ranking merfolk.

The Kuroshio whale, having received permission, let out an excited roar.

It opened its enormous mouth, big enough to swallow a warship, and inhaled sharply.

A terrifying suction force erupted in the trench.

The fish-men hiding in the cave didn't have time to escape before they were swept out by the powerful current, like a group of helpless shrimp, screaming as they were sucked into the mouth of the Kuroshio whale.

"Click...click..."

The chilling sound of chewing echoed through the deep sea.

With the sacrifice of thousands of lives, the severed lower half of the Kuroshio whale began to grow at a visible rate.

White bones extend, red muscles cover, and black skin closes.

Just half an hour later, a brand new tail fin, smaller than the previous one but still strong, grew out.

The whale herder felt his mount's strength returning, and his complexion improved slightly.

He stood up and walked to a bone altar atop the whale's head.

The altar was made up of countless human skulls, with a black mirror embedded in the center.

The whaler slit his wrist, dripping his blood onto the mirror, while chanting obscure deep-sea language.

"...Great Son of the Abyss...your servant begs to hear..."

The mirror surface rippled, and a pale white halo appeared on its originally black surface.

A blurry human face appeared in the mirror.

The face had no features, only a huge, stitched-up mouth.

Pale Bishop.

The highest-ranking official of the Deep Sea Church in the Central Continent, a terrifying being at the fifth-ring level.

"You failed."

The voice in the mirror wasn't loud, but it exploded directly into the depths of the whale herder's soul, carrying a suffocating chill.

The whaler trembled and immediately knelt on the whale's back, his forehead pressed against the cold bones.

"Your Excellency... the intelligence was incorrect. A complete Titan prototype is buried beneath Plymouth. The controller initiated the self-destruct sequence, triggering the etheric singularity explosion. Black Tide Whale is severely injured, and I... failed to retrieve the key."

"Titan?"

The voice in the mirror paused for a moment, as if it were thinking.

"The remnants of the First Age... are indeed a problem. But that's no excuse for your failure."

The whaler dared not refute, and could only bury his head even lower.

"That person... there's something strange about him," the whale herder hurriedly explained. "Not only can he control Titans, but he also possesses the bloodline aura of an ancient sea monster. During the final battle, I sensed... he seemed to have stolen some kind of high-level deep-sea essence."

"A siren?"

The pale bishop's voice held a hint of amusement.

"I see. The signal that Mortimer sent before he died wasn't just a cry for help, it was also marking the thief."

The shimmering light on the mirror created a blurry image.

That was the scene of Rhodes standing on the breakwater, tearing open his collar to reveal the dark blue runes on his chest.

"He fused with the heart of a siren," the Pale Bishop concluded. "Moreover, he possesses a fragment of the Titan's core. That is the true key. The destruction of the Titan's shell is irrelevant; the memory units within its core record those coordinates."

The whaler looked up abruptly: "My lord, I'll charge back right now! Plymouth is defenseless, and that mortal must be badly wounded too!"

"madness."

The pale bishop coldly rebuked.

"You've caused too much of a commotion. The Titan's self-destruction has already attracted the attention of the royal family and the high command of the church. There are at least three third-circle mages on their way from Plymouth. People in the Central Continent will also receive the news. Do you want to become a specimen?"

The whaler froze, cold sweat instantly soaking his back.

He was blinded by rage and forgot about the reaction speed of the powerful humans in the center.

"Then... what about the key?"

"He will bring the key with him."

The pale bishop's voice became calm, carrying an air of absolute confidence.

"Plymouth is now a ruin, devoid of resources for his advancement. Now that he has fused with the Siren's bloodline, he needs higher-grade deep-sea materials to maintain balance. He will definitely leave there and head to the more resource-rich Central Continent."

"Our plans in the Central Continent are complete. Once he sets foot on that land, he'll be trapped like a turtle in a jar."

The face in the mirror slowly faded away, leaving only a final command.

"Take the Kuroshio Whale, navigate the deep ocean currents, and bypass the human naval blockade. Meet him at Shipwreck Bay. Since he enjoys alchemy and mechanics, let's prepare a grand gift for him."

"Yes, sir."

The whaler bowed respectfully until the mirror returned to its original blackness.

He stood up, the fear in his eyes vanished, replaced by an even stronger resentment.

He looked westward, towards Plymouth.

"Rod Griffin..."

The whaler stuck out his tongue and licked the blood from the corner of his mouth.

"You think you've won? You just took my things and moved them to a different place for safekeeping."

The Kuroshio whale beneath his feet sensed its master's will and let out a low roar.

Its massive tail fin slapped against the seawater, stirring up a gust of current.

The enormous creature turned around, ignoring the fish-men's remaining food, and darted into the deeper, darker waters.

They will traverse thousands of miles of uninhabited deep-sea areas, evading the sight of human civilization, and travel like ghosts to that continent where prosperity and evil coexist.