"What are you thinking?! You old codger, can't you just stay home and behave yourself?!"
"Well, don't get so angry."
Setting aside the angry Jones, Vane turned to look at the silent old man in the armchair.
After being discovered, David did not struggle and obediently followed the group back to the antique shop.
The residents who helped left quickly after finding the old man unharmed, leaving only Vane and Jordi behind.
"So, Grandpa's planning on extreme rafting, right? I was even thinking of using the one-click follow function."
David remained silent, while Vane felt a poke in his lower back.
"Mr. Vane, perhaps we should ask him why first..."
Jordi glanced nervously to the side; Jones' face was flushed, and he looked like he was about to explode at any moment.
"Alright, I quite like that ship."
David, who had been quiet, finally moved, looked at Vane, and stammered:
"Which ship do you like?"
"Yeah, mainly because he reminds me of Blackbeard's original ship. If he flew a pirate flag, it would look even more like one."
Vane gave a casual reply, while David seemed lost in thought:
"Would anyone actually use this kind of boat for transportation...?"
"It's not a one-size-fits-all situation... but there are quite a few people like that."
He turned and went to the counter, poured himself a cup of hot water, Vane handed it to the old man.
"Those guys are all hot-blooded idiots, shouting about their so-called [dreams] and fearlessly rushing into the sea, but I don't think you're that kind of idiot."
David took the hot water and stared intently at Vane in front of him.
"The wine was all drunk by an Inquisitor, and all that's left is hot water. Would you like to tell your story?"
The shop fell silent, and under Vane's calm gaze, the old man slowly recounted his past...
"Hmm... So you feel guilty and want to die and be with your son in the afterlife?"
Vane summarized the story, and Jones, who was standing nearby, could no longer hold back and threw a punch.
"You bastard!"
Jones casually tilted his head to dodge, then punched the corner of the cabinet, his face contorted in pain. Vane curled his lip in mockery.
Is there a problem?
"Mr. Vane ..."
Jordi, who is very empathetic, already had red and swollen eyes, and at this moment she hesitated to speak.
David didn't react much, but his silence only made Vane more annoyed.
"Your self-assessment is correct; you are a coward."
"He acted out of guilt, he acted out of turn... he never considered the feelings of his family."
Everyone in the store was stunned, and David looked up as well as Vane spoke.
But they're gone...
"I think you're getting senile!"
Vane pointed to Jones, who was standing to the side.
"You've lived with him for so many years, don't you have any feelings for him at all? Or have you never considered him family?"
David opened his mouth, then lowered his head in shame, which only made Vane more agitated.
"And another thing! I'm a complete stranger, and you believed me when I said your son wouldn't come back? Can't you have a little more conviction?!"
These words made no sense, and Jones's angry expression gradually turned strange.
"Why are you getting so worked up...?"
"I'm so pissed off..."
Vane was about to utter a curse, but he managed to swallow it back.
Yes... why is he getting so agitated?
Is it because of the old man's stupidity?
Was it because of Jones's excessive actions?
Was it a single sentence that nearly led to this tragedy?
No...
It was merely a traveler's sentimental reaction to the scenery.
The previously noisy room suddenly fell silent, with only the ticking of the clock remaining.
As if sensing something, David looked up and met Vane's gaze.
A lost traveler.
A waiting father.
Similar yet diametrically opposed emotions intertwined in their gaze, and the traveler suddenly asked:
"What's your son's name?"
"Jack ..."
"Jack, your family's names are really interesting."
Vane tried to raise the corners of his mouth, but in the end, he only twitched slightly.
He spat and took a deep breath.
"Mr. Vane, are you alright?"
Jordi looked at Vane with some concern, but the latter quickly put on a smile again.
"Of course, I'm perfectly fine."
His smile was no different from usual, and even his tone had returned to its usual nonchalant manner.
"Sorry, buddy... your lighthouse trip may have to be postponed."
"Oh? I'm fine."
Jordi was puzzled, not understanding why Vane wanted to bring up this topic again.
Vane offered no explanation. He looked at David again, his lips curling into a smug grin.
"I can't guarantee I'll bring him back."
The old man's eyes widened, and his body trembled slightly.
Seemingly satisfied with the old man's reaction, Vane nodded and turned to walk towards the door.
Bang--
The door opened to its widest point the instant it swung open, and howling wind and rain poured into the shop, blowing Vane's hair back.
Ding-a-ling--
The wind chimes on the shop door swayed rapidly, and the old man immediately tried to get up, but fell back down due to excessive force.
"Hey! What did you mean by that just now?"
Jones helped David up and called out to Vane:
"Literally, it's been so many years, who knows if he's still alive."
As if finding the wind and rain too noisy, it spread its wings and blocked out the sky.
"Regardless of the outcome, I will accept payment, so..."
Turning around, Vane's blood-red pupils shone brightly in the dim light.
"Pray."
"What?"
Jones instinctively asked a question, but David broke free of his hand and rushed forward.
"Wait! You don't need to..."
Call--!
The howling Gale rushed in again, and David fell into Jones' arms.
Realizing what was happening, Jordi clung to the doorframe, looking up into the pouring rain.
The blood-red demon has soared into the sky, its echoes carried only by the wind.
"May your child return as promised..."
"Mr. Vane ..."
Understanding that stopping it was now futile, and seeing the increasingly heavy rain, Jordi gritted her teeth and prepared to close the door.
"Let's just keep it running like this."
A withered hand reached out from behind and grabbed the wind chime on the door.
David stared silently at the wind chimes, letting the rain soak his clothes.
Sailors say that if you carry a seashell wind chime with you when you go out to sea, the waves will hear the sound of your homeland and will not be angry.
The old man held the wind chime in his palm and prayed devoutly.
Jingle...
Ding-a-ling...♪
The sea was as black as ink, the rocks were strange and jagged, and the fog was deep and cold.
In this Wasteland abandoned by civilization, a melody suddenly rang out.
Strange piano music emanated from the magnificent ship; there was no applause, only the sloshing sound of slimy flesh.
"Stop playing, Garcia..."
A hoarse voice interrupted the music, and a tall man sat with his head down on the stairs, filling the aisle.
"..."
Snap... Snap...
As the sound, like a wet rag being slapped on the ground, drew closer, the person playing the music approached Alfonso.
"Gurgle..."
Following the sound, Alfonso looked up.
Sharp claws, deep blue skin, and drooping tentacles.
Garcia, his first mate...
"I know you like music... but that will attract those monsters."
"Gurgle..."
Garcia lowered his head and curled up next to Alfonso.
Alfonso closed his eyes, briefly resting on the broadsword stained with the blood of countless Seaborn.
Even with the Gale winds and torrential rain outside the ship, it was still a rare moment of peace for them.
Since the Great Silence, the fleet, without the guidance of its beacon, has lost its way.
Ample supplies and gleaming lights slowed the fear somewhat, but when the offspring of the deep sea climbed aboard the ships, order collapsed instantly.
The battle... the never-ending battle.
Personnel continued to be killed or wounded, and supplies continued to be consumed.
To avoid attracting the monster's attention, Alfonso the order to turn off the lights.
The beacon of civilization has been extinguished, and darkness nourishes the fear in people's hearts.
Internal strife has begun...
To everyone's surprise, on the very first day, one of the auxiliary ships sank into the deep sea.
When will the rest of the fleet fall silent?
Alfonso was unaware of this.
He only heard an apology in the final broadcast.
Just as he had heard countless times over the years...
Glug...
The rumbling of his abdomen echoed in the hall. Alfonso opened his eyes and cut off the tentacle on his left arm.
Its tentacles fell to the ground, thrashing about like a fish tossed ashore.
Alfonso bent down and picked it up.
It's been 50 years. Since when did they start eating those things...?
The flesh and blood of Seaborn.
Initially, some people vomited, some refused, and some would rather starve than touch this "sacrifice."
Alfonso did not force him.
He just sat there, swallowing his food bite by bite.
The next day, those who had refused to eat began to hesitate.
On the third day, they fought over the scraps like wild dogs.
Live on.
This is the only command.
But the cost is high...
Blue blood, shimmering faintly, gushed from the wound, but Alfonso no longer cared.
He tore at the flesh that was falling from his body as if it were an enemy.
Bang--!
A deafening clang of metal clashing came from deep within the ship. Garcia let out a mournful cry, Alfonso up the broadsword leaning against the side.
The two got up at the same time and walked side by side.
The long metal tunnel stretched out beneath their feet, and the two finally stopped.
Residential area.
The cabin, which once housed 617 crew members, is now as silent as a tomb.
The sea breeze has never penetrated the interior of this steel Behemoth, but time has silently plundered it for 50 years.
Alfonso walked to each of the closed doors and knocked gently.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Third tone.
A moment later--
Thump. Thump. Thump.
That was a response, and also the last vestige of dignity for our comrades.
One door, two doors, three doors...
Garcia followed behind, making soft gurgling sounds.
He was counting.
Say goodbye to every response, because the next time you knock on this door, there may be no answer.
Finally, they arrived at the last door.
The house number was long rusted and the writing was illegible, but Alfonso knew who lived inside.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
"..."
There was no answer from behind the door.
Bang--!
The rusty hatch opened wide, and a dim light illuminated the room.
The scene was a complete mess.
The most shocking sight was the huge dented fist mark on the metal bulkhead opposite.
A figure was huddled below, with its back to the door.
"I'm here, child."
The voice was soft, carrying an unusual calmness.
That was the rope the captain threw to the person who had fallen into the water.
The huddled figure trembled violently and slowly rose from the shadows.
Tentacles dangled from its back, their tips dragging limply on the ground.
The only thing that can prove its past identity is a human eye.
"Gurgle..."
Garcia took a step forward, his tentacles reaching towards the figure, whose eyes lowered.
Alfonso around.
There were no orders, no reassurances.
Alfonso turned and left, his footsteps echoing from the cabin behind him.
Three distinct footsteps echoed down the corridor.
Alfonso raised his broadsword and slammed it heavily onto the floor.
Thump--
Knock knock!
Knock knock!
A knocking sounded on one of the tightly closed hatches.
That was from every surviving crew member, a message to their comrades who were about to reach their end, their liberation.
Seeing someone off.
Alfonso walked at the front, holding a broadsword horizontally.
How many people did he personally execute?
I don't remember...
He simply swung his knife, watching the other person go through the entire process from fear to relief, from pleading to gratitude.
[Sorry, Captain...]
He had heard far too many apologies, so many that he thought they would never touch him again.
They poured the last of the fuel over each person's body and set them on fire.
The firelight illuminated the night sky 406 times.
Later, when supplies were completely exhausted, even cremation became a luxury, and the only option was to throw the remains into the sea.
He killed the crew members who turned into monsters time and time again, until finally killing the monster named "Alfonso".
His heart had stopped aching long ago.
He thought that was the case.
Splash...
The golden gangway extends upwards, ending at the ship's deck.
Every crew member who is executed comes here to look up at the sky one last time.
Alfonso stood at the hatch, letting the rain wash over him.
He remained silent for a long time, then stepped aside to make way.
"We can't see the sky today."
He paused.
"Next time."
This was the first time in 50 years that he had said "next time" to a crew member who was about to be executed.
He turned and stepped down the gangway.
"A... Fan... So..."
The voice came from behind him, and the subsequent address made Alfonso close his eyes in pain.
"... uncle."
Garcia let out a mournful cry and retreated into the shadows.
Rain dripped down Alfonso's forehead, blurring the emotions he was trying so hard to suppress on his face.
Turn around.
Behind him, where countless crew members gazed at the sky, stood that figure in silence.
Rain washed over his carapace, his tentacles, and the eye that still belonged to Iberia.
He was also looking at Alfonso.
There was no hatred, no blame, and no accusation against the 50 years of purgatory in their eyes.
Alfonso opened his mouth, and rain poured into his throat, salty like seawater.
[I swear on the captain's behalf, I will bring this kid back safe and sound!]
He stared at the disfigured face, his voice hoarse:
"Jack ..."
Jack narrowed his eyes, as if he were smiling.
It's been a long time since anyone called him by that name...
Jack turned and walked toward the deck, with Alfonso following silently, as if he were the one to be executed.
The rain got heavier...
The two stopped, and Jack looked up at the sky.
As Alfonso said, it's completely invisible.
A hint of regret flashed in the human's pupils, while the monster's pupils were gradually covered by madness.
Jack opened his arms, as if to hug him.
Am I... a... good... sailor?
"He is the bravest sailor I have ever seen."
Alfonso raised his knife, his vision somewhat blurred.
For the first time as captain, he was grateful for the rainy day, after all... it would be too embarrassing to cry in front of the children.
Alfonso slowly walked towards Jack, who suddenly raised his head.
Alfonso his broadsword toward the neck, his only wish being to kill his opponent without pain.
Clang--!
A crimson glow stopped the blade, and Vane greeted Alfonso.
"Hello, Captain."
Before Alfonso could recover from his shock, Vane's next words enraged him.
"Your ship has been requisitioned by me."