The End of 1485, Diogo's Death

The azure sky was cloudless for ten thousand miles, and the clear, blazing sun poured down in splendor, draping the surface of the South Atlantic in shimmering light. The ocean waves stretched vast and boundless, the horizon lay empty and endless, and for ten thousand miles there was no trace of human habitation.

Three Caravels from the Kingdom of Portugal sailed across that shipless sea, pushing out the edge of the known world. Between the fierce sun and glittering waves, they chased the tracks of the wind, searching for an illusory hope. The south of the African continent was so vast and desolate that it seemed to have no boundary forever.

The expedition fleet had set out from the mouth of the Congo River, heading south all the way, passing below the equator and by the highlands of Lower Guinea. By now, they had already sailed more than four thousand li and arrived at the deserts of Namibia.

Herds of Namibian seals frolicked freely along the shore, chasing after delicious schools of fish. The Benguela Current rose here, forming a rare, bountiful fishing ground in the "blue desert."

The abundance of food drew in enormous giants, and massive blue whales rose and sank not far away. They swam freely through the boundless sea, sometimes leaping up to strike the waves, sometimes spouting mist, and then letting out cries that shook the heart!

In this era, blue whales, the largest living creatures in the world, still had no natural predators. Their songs drifted from afar, leisurely telling of this sea's loneliness across millions of years.

"Almighty Lord! I sincerely pray to Him—may He shelter us from being devoured by sea monsters!"

Bruno stood at the prow in awe, piously praying to God. Beside him were more than a dozen sailors praying