Son of Pirates

Assuming the conjecture of the Final Anthropic Principle is correct, once consciousness is born, it is immortal and eternal. Every living being in countless parallel universes inevitably has one consciousness capable of attaining immortality, thereby witnessing the heat death of the universe.

Every individual is the absolute protagonist in their own universe, endlessly forced to witness the deaths of others.

Then, theoretically, if travel across worlds truly exists, every individual actually has a probability of becoming a traveler. When calculating the countless possibilities across countless parallel universes, everyone is actually a traveler one hundred percent of the time, though the version of themselves they travel as might belong to a parallel universe.

Therefore, no matter who one is, traveling across worlds is a completely reasonable and logical matter.

He had not communicated with any life form in any form for over one hundred billion years.

Name, gender, race, and the like had all lost meaning to him. He was like an eternally silent observer.

He had weathered the rise and fall of human civilization, witnessed the sun burn out and become a white dwarf, and watched with his own eyes as black holes evaporated, becoming the most resplendent fireworks in the universe.

Ultimately, the universe entered a state of heat death.

Amidst the darkness, his consciousness suddenly spewed forth a massive surge of memories as he attempted self-rescue.

If he continued to linger in this universe, his thinking would inevitably enter eternal silence one day, because nothing more would ever happen in this universe, and his mind would be filled with endless void until it finally became a meaningless existence.

Therefore, he had to leave this universe and head toward an unknown world, with the sole price being the abandonment of a vast amount of redundant memories. Using these memories as fuel, he would open the door to the unknown world.

Countless memories were torn apart by his mind, forming a terrifying storm of thought. Eighty billion years of memories contained massive amounts of data, and this data was ultimately detonated. His mind twisted violently in the explosion before finally vanishing completely from this universe.

Yet the memory storm he released shattered the balance of the universe, and this universe once again initiated a new cycle of reincarnation.

From the known map, the Bolan World resembled a scroll with no ends on either side. Most of the space within the scroll was filled by ocean, with only countless scattered islands situated across the seas.

As for the Seven Seas, they were located in the middle region of the known map, where seven giant islands divided the expanse into seven oceans, hence the name the Seven Seas.

In the Pras Sea, one of the Seven Seas, a sailboat crafted from black wood was being towed by iron chains and navigated by another, larger sailing vessel. On the deck of the black-wooden sailboat, a group of ragged men with ugly and ferocious expressions knelt, surrounded by dozens of soldiers holding sabers who guarded them without daring to show the slightest lapse in attention.

This black-wooden sailboat was none other than the Black Knife, an infamous vessel that had run rampant across the Seven Seas for twenty full years. Its master was none other than Hawkins, the captain of the Blackblade Pirates, who bore the moniker Son of Pirates.

Currently, the individuals remaining aboard the Black Knife were ordinary pirates, while the captain, first mate, second mate, and boatswain had all been escorted into the Vidalya Glory and locked away as prisoners.

However, the Blackblade Pirates had recently launched successive attacks on three coastal villages and towns on Vitalia Island, engaging in rampant pillaging that thoroughly enraged Jabus, the lord of Vitalia Island.

Jabus dispatched the newly constructed, secretly forged warship Vidalya Glory to pursue the Black Knife. The two sides became entangled in the Pras Sea for over half a month, until the Black Knife was ultimately defeated due to exhausted food and water supplies, resulting in the entire crew being captured by the Vidalya marines.

Deep within the hold of the Vidalya Glory, a pair of eyes opened from the darkness.

Prison? Truly a cliché opening.

Such a weak body. If my consciousness overclocks for too long, it will probably fry the brain. It seems I will need to think of a way if I want to leave.

Hawkins, captain and master of the Blackblade Pirates, twenty-five years old, inherited his father's profession, the Seven Seas, the Mist Sea, the Endless Black Sea, a strange world, a strange worldview, interesting.

Inside the cell, Hawkins was no longer the original Hawkins. The moment "his" consciousness crossed dimensions and descended, that heinous and wicked grand pirate instantly had his consciousness obliterated, his body effortlessly taken over by someone else.

Naturally, because "he" could not recall his own name, he simply borrowed the existing one all the way through, temporarily using Hawkins as an alias.

Hawkins stood up, and the two marines guarding the cell immediately turned around, staring at him with vigilant expressions.

"Relax, I just sat for too long, and my legs went numb."

Hawkins wore a smile, then sat back down. He addressed one of the pockmarked marines, saying, "Marine, the journey back is long. Care to chat?"

"We have nothing to talk about. You killed my father!" The marine glared at Hawkins with eyes full of hatred, his tone resolute.

Hawkins shrugged helplessly and said, "Now that really is a sorrowful piece of news. Your father was also a marine? How much of a pension did he receive when he died in battle?"

According to the original owner's memories, everything in this world operated by inheriting one's father's trade. Whatever profession a father held, the son typically followed suit, generation after generation.

Hawkins nodded with a smile and said, "His life was meant to end that way, though of course it has nothing to do with me."

"You really are scum and trash. I can't wait to see the day you get hanged," the marine said angrily.

Hawkins raised a hand and waggled his index finger in denial. "Although Hawkins did plenty of bad things, laying the blame solely upon him is actually quite unfair.

In truth, after his father, Huo Blackblade, died in battle, Hawkins did consider giving up the life of a pirate.

He specifically investigated the jobs available to him, such as guard, marine, blacksmith, and so forth, only to find that the money these professions could earn in a lifetime didn't even match what he could plunder in a single month. Meanwhile, what he plundered in a month couldn't even compare to what island lords and nobles earned in a week, which was why he ultimately chose to continue being a pirate.

You can't entirely blame him for that. If blame is to be cast, it should fall on those nobles who monopolize resources; they are the ones who solidified Hawkins's resolve to keep playing the role of a pirate."

"You're just quibbling!" the other marine said coldly.

Hawkins looked at him and smiled, analyzing, "A child who hates evil like an enemy, if I heard correctly earlier, your name is Tom, right? Your monthly salary should be 20 silver coins. Inflation isn't high in this world, but this meager pay is probably just enough for your daily expenses. If you want any savings, you have to constantly go out to sea to fight, and every single sortie carries huge risks. Once you die in battle, your family receives a mere 1 gold coin in pension.

1 gold coin equals 100 silver coins, and 100 silver coins is nothing more than five months of your wages. Do you think this trade is fair?"

"There is no longer 1 gold coin, only 90 silver coins," the pockmarked marine who had lost his father muttered darkly.

Hawkins sighed. "90 silver coins for a life—what a cheap commodity. And... do you think I've killed a lot of people? In truth, the nobles are the ones who kill without showing blood. For instance, the Golden-Scaled Fish caviar they love to eat can only be caught near Blackwood Island, and Blackwood Island is very close to the Black Sea. Every year, dozens of fishermen die just trying to catch the Golden-Scaled Fish, and they don't even receive a pension. Over hundreds of years, just imagine how many people have perished in the ocean for the sake of the nobles' gluttony. Compared to that, do you still think I've killed a lot of people?"

Both marines fell silent. The residents of Vitalia Island had lived under the rule of nobles for generations. Trapped within the massive inertia of their mindset, they never perceived any unreasonableness in it.

Yet now, listening to Hawkins's breakdown, they too sensed the profound unfairness of it all.

"How about we make a deal? I'll give each of you 10 gold coins, and you help me leave this place. That's an equivalent price of ten lives apiece for you. Don't rush to refuse—think it over carefully before answering." Hawkins revealed his true intentions, looking at the two of them with a smile.

The pockmarked marine glanced at his companion, their gazes exchanging.

Without Hawkins's previous speech, they certainly would have made a righteous refusal. But having heard Hawkins's words, they were now tempted.

Marines of Vitalia Island received a salary of only 20 silver coins when not fighting at sea.

If they sortied to fight at sea during that month, they could earn an extra 10 silver coins as a reward each time, while the families of those killed in battle received a 1 gold coin pension.

Although their pitiful calculating power could not figure out how many years of work 10 gold coins required, they knew it was a huge sum of money—a fortune sufficient to buy a life.

The question was: could Hawkins be trusted?