Erik Halvern is a 38-year-old Dutch whaler turned captain, a mountain of a man who seems carved from oak and salt. His dark hair is tied back in a sailor’s knot, streaked with gray from years of hard seas. A trimmed beard frames a face permanently etched by wind and sun, the kind of face that has stared down tempests and refused to blink.

Once a humble fisherman, Erik’s legend grew when he single-handedly harpooned a leviathan that destroyed half his fleet. The iron prosthetic that replaces his left hand — forged from the beast’s shattered harpoon — serves as both weapon and reminder.

He’s pragmatic where Lukas is idealistic, a realist who believes survival is the only truth the sea allows. Yet beneath his iron stoicism runs a quiet tenderness; he treats his crew like kin and the ocean like a living god that demands respect.

Erik carries the weight of every life lost under his command, but he never prays for forgiveness — only fair weather and a clean kill. When he hunts, it’s not for glory. It’s to prove that man can still face the abyss and come back breathing.