“My bosun is dead again, killed by those things. How much longer can this go on? I’m so tired of holding on.

  Sometimes I wonder if I’ve already died and this is hell.

  But then I think, it can’t be. The demons of hell are far more charming than those creatures. Everything here defies logic, including the humans.

  When I first arrived, I thought this place was in the early stages of the Industrial Revolution. But later, I learned they’ve developed quite a bit of technology on the mysterious side.

  Yet, it’s all for naught. Humanity still scrapes by like ants, surviving in a world filled with deadly horrors. We’re not the only civilization living in clusters here.”

  Charles’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door, followed by the voice of his deckhand, Deep.

  “Captain, we’re approaching Coral Main Island.”

  Charles walked to the bow, spotting the lighthouse flickering in the darkness. A sigh of relief escaped him; no matter what, they had finally arrived.

  As the *Rat* slowly neared, the grand island behind the lighthouse came into view.

  The gray-white of coral rock dominated the island’s color, with various human dwellings matching the hue.

  The port of Coral Island was bustling, with steamships of all sizes coming and going. Rugged sailors waved their hats, celebrating their survival.

  This was a newly developed island, one that couldn’t sustain humanity solely on coral; it needed resources from other islands. This was also the lifeblood for cargo ships like the *Rat*.

  Among the crowds at the dock, many locals had inwardly curled ears—those were the native inhabitants of Coral Island.

  Anyone who lived on Coral Island for over five years would have their ears curl inward for unknown reasons. No one knew why.

  But this didn’t deter migrants from other islands; compared to the troubles elsewhere, ear deformities were the least of their concerns.

  After a quick exchange with the dock manager, Charles stepped out of the port, his expression grim.

  As he had anticipated, a significant portion of the cargo was missing. This trip hadn’t just failed to earn him money; he had lost quite a bit. These two months had been in vain.

  The time it took to sort the dock’s supplies was a brief respite for the crew of the *Rat*.

  Nearby, a row of buildings of varying heights stood, some serving as inns for sailors, while others were places of leisure.

  On the bustling streets, ragged beggars lay about, murmuring incomprehensible words only they understood.

  These were sailors driven mad by the sea. No one knew what they had experienced. To avoid ending up like them, one had to remember the iron rules of the ocean: don’t look, don’t listen, don’t think.

  They were the lucky ones, as most sailors lost at sea simply vanished with their ships.

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  The door of the Bat Inn swung open, revealing a brightly lit hall where a group of burly men eyed the newcomers with malicious intent.

  However, upon catching a whiff of the sea salt on Charles, they quickly averted their gazes; anyone who could survive the sea was not to be trifled with.

  “I need a room for five days and some food delivered to my room.”

  “Five days lodging for 630 Echo Coins, and a delicious mushroom soup for 30. Total: 660.”

  In the damp room, Charles enjoyed his meal. The food in this underground world wasn’t great. He tore the dark bread into pieces and tossed them into the thick mushroom soup.

  Even soaked, the bitter bread still stuck to his throat, but he was used to it.

  Charles pulled out a phone from his pocket, eating while mindlessly swiping at the scratched screen, which reflected the same darkness as the world outside.

  In the single room, only the sound of Charles’s slow chewing filled the air.

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

  Charles quickly tucked his phone away. “Come in, the door’s open.”

  The first mate cautiously entered, an apologetic expression on his face. “Captain, I wanted to talk to you. I don’t want to continue.”

  Charles frowned. “Why? Haven’t you seen enough of this?”

  Every time a crew member died, he was prepared for someone to leave. He had expected it to be Deep, who had nearly wet his pants from fear, not his loyal first mate, John.

  John waved his hands repeatedly. “I’m too old. Sometimes I fall asleep at the helm. I want to get away from the sea.”

  Charles’s mood darkened further, but he didn’t try to persuade him to stay. Parting on good terms was better.

  He placed a small stack of bills on the table. “Here’s your share.”

  John took his payment but didn’t leave, hesitating in place.

  “Is there something else?”

  “Ha, Captain, you know, I’ve saved a bit, but most of my money went to those women. This isn’t enough for me to live on.”

  “What? You’re not asking me to sponsor you, are you?”

  “No, no, I know that’s impossible. But I have something good I’d like to sell you. I won’t need this weapon once I disembark.”

  John pulled out a black knife about the length of his forearm. It resembled a large dagger more than a knife.

  Charles eyed the stout old man with curiosity. This knife was indeed the first mate’s weapon, but he didn’t lack for close-range weapons.

  “Captain, don’t underestimate this knife; it’s a relic!”

  Charles had heard of such mysterious items but had never seen one.

  The origins of relics were shrouded in mystery. Some said they came from the ocean, others from the legendary land of light, and still others from unexplored islands. Regardless of their origins, it was certain that these items held special powers.

  These powers were varied and came with a price; the cost differed depending on the power.

  Charles had once seen a ring at an auction on England Island worth 580,000 Echo Coins, granting the wearer temporary invisibility, but the price was unbearable itching all over the body.

  “What’s special about this knife?”

  Seeing Charles’s interest, John perked up. “This weapon is incredibly sharp—very sharp!”

  He looked around the room, eager to test it on something.

  “Thanks, but I still prefer guns.”

  Using just a revolver against those monsters felt inadequate. Charles wanted a relic for self-defense, but he didn’t want something useless.

  Though the technology tree of the sea world was a bit skewed, some of the larger islands were electrified, equipped with guns and cannons. What use was a divine weapon in such a world, especially one with side effects?

  Seeing that Charles was hesitant to buy, Old John grew anxious. “Captain, it has other special abilities! Just holding it will speed up your body’s healing.”

  “Two abilities? What’s the cost?” Relics were peculiar; the benefits and drawbacks were rarely proportional. Sometimes, the benefits were minimal, while the side effects could make the owner’s life miserable.

  “It’s not too severe. If you hold it for a long time, you’ll feel a suicidal impulse. Just don’t hold it for too long.”

  Charles took the black knife, surprised at its lightness. It felt almost like plastic rather than metal.

  He drew the blade across his hand, and the wound did indeed start to heal slowly, but it wasn’t exaggerated—perhaps three times the usual rate.

  “The cost is acceptable, and the benefit is decent. My ship doesn’t have a doctor, so this can help fill that gap.”

  Charles decided to buy the knife. It was essential to invest in tools for survival.

  Both parties understood each other well, and in the end, Charles purchased the relic for 160,000 Echo Coins.