“Later, he worked his way up from sailor to boatswain, then from boatswain to third mate. Just when we all thought he would move up from third mate to second mate, he actually saved up enough money to buy a second-hand small freighter. Look, it’s the very Rat we’re standing on now.”

Chapter Three: Relic

“My boatswain is dead again, killed by those things. How much longer will these days last? I’m so tired of holding on.

Sometimes I wonder if I actually died long ago and this is hell?

But then again, that can’t be. The demons in hell are much cuter than those things. Nothing here makes sense, not even the people.

When I first arrived, I thought this place was at the early stage of the Industrial Revolution, but later I realized they’ve also unlocked quite a few tech points on the mystical side.

But even so, it’s useless. Humans still live like ants, struggling to survive. There are just too many deadly things lurking in the dark. We’re not the only social civilization here.”

Charles’s diary was interrupted by a knock at the door, and outside came the voice of the sailor Dean.

“Captain, we’re almost at the main Coral Island.”

Charles walked to the bow, looking at the lighthouse flickering in the darkness in the distance, and let out a sigh of relief. No matter what, they had finally arrived.

As the Rat slowly approached, a grand island behind the lighthouse gradually came into view.

The grayish-white of the coral rock was the island’s main color, and the various human dwellings built on it were the same shade.

The port of the Coral Islands looked busy, with all kinds of steamships of different sizes coming and going. The rough sailors waved their hats and cheered, celebrating that they had survived another trip.

This was a newly developed island. An island that could support human life couldn’t rely on coral alone; it needed resources from other islands. That’s also the source of livelihood for cargo ships like the Rat.

Among the crowds passing by on the dock, many people had ears that curled inward—those were the locals of the Coral Islands.

As long as you lived on the Coral Islands for more than five years, your ears would curl inward for some unknown reason. No one knew why.

But this didn’t stop people from other islands from eagerly immigrating here. Compared to the troubles of other islands, ear deformation was the mildest side effect.

After quickly handing over to the administrator, Charles walked out of the dock with a rather grim expression.

He had been right—the cargo was less than half of what it should have been. Not only did he not make a profit this trip, he actually lost quite a bit. These two months had been for nothing.

It would take some time for the dock to dispatch the goods, and during this period, the crew of the Rat could take a short break.

Near the dock was a row of buildings of varying heights, some of which were inns for the crew to rest, and even more were places for relaxation.

On the lively street were some ragged beggars, lying or sitting, muttering words only they could understand.

These were all sailors driven mad by the Deep Sea. No one knew what they had experienced. If you didn’t want to end up like them, you had to remember the iron rules of the sea: don’t look, don’t listen, don’t think.

They were the lucky ones, because in most cases, sailors who encountered shipwrecks simply disappeared along with their ships.

The door of the Bat Inn was pushed open. In the brightly lit hall, a group of burly men drinking cast unfriendly glances at the newcomer.

But when they smelled the scent of the sea on Charles, they quickly looked away as if nothing had happened. Anyone who could survive the sea and come back alive was not to be messed with.

“I want to stay for five days, and bring me some food, deliver it to my room.”

“Five days’ lodging is 630 Echo coins, delicious bread and mushroom soup is 30, total 660.”

In the damp room, Charles enjoyed his lunch. The food in the port area was nothing special. Charles tore the black bread into pieces and tossed them into the thick mushroom soup.

Even soaked in soup, the bitter black bread was still rough on the throat, but he was used to it by now.

Charles took a cellphone out from his pocket, eating while randomly swiping with his finger. The scratched screen was as dark as the sky outside.

In the single room, only the slow chewing of Charles remained.

“Captain, are you in there?” Old John’s voice suddenly came from outside the door.

Charles quickly put away his phone. “Come in, the door’s not locked.”

The first mate walked in cautiously, his face showing a bit of apology. “Captain, I wanted to tell you, I don’t want to do this anymore.”

Charles frowned slightly. “Why? Haven’t you seen enough of this sort of thing already?”

Every time a crew member died, someone wanted to leave. He was mentally prepared for it. He had thought the most likely one would be Dean, who was so scared he nearly wet his pants, but he hadn’t expected it to be Old John, who had accompanied him all this way.

John waved his hands repeatedly. “I’m too old. Sometimes I even fall asleep at the helm. It’s too dangerous. And... and I want to get away from the Deep Sea.”

Charles’s mood grew even worse, but he didn’t try to persuade him to stay. Better to part on good terms.

He placed a stack of bills on the table. “This is your share.”

John took his pay, but didn’t turn to leave. He stood there, looking hesitant.

“Is there something else?”