A massive shadow loomed closer, and everyone on the White Oak ship witnessed a moment they would remember for the rest of their lives. It was an ancient-looking three-masted warship. In an age where steamships were common, this sailing ship seemed to have emerged from a painting of a century ago. Its tall masts and steep sides towered over them, and the dark wooden hull burned with ghostly green flames. The enormous sails billowed in the void, filled with howling illusions and layers of fire. Such a scene would only be seen in the most terrifying shipwreck legends.
"We're going to crash!!!"
A crew member shouted in panic. These tough and rugged sailors, used to the dangers of the sea, lost their composure when faced with such a colossal vessel. They yelled and ran, some looking for places to hide on the deck, others clinging to anything they could hold onto, and some even knelt in the rolling waves, praying fervently to the storm goddess Gomona or the lord of death Bartok.
In this vast ocean, the blessings of the gods had faded, but the power of these two deities still watched over their people equally.
Not all crew members lost their cool, though. The first mate quickly turned to the captain he trusted most. He knew that sailing on the open sea was fraught with danger, and an experienced captain could determine the fate of the entire ship. Lawrence had been at sea for over thirty years. Though the old captain, now past fifty, might not be as strong as he once was, his survival experience could still offer a glimmer of hope for everyone.
The ship emerging from the fog did not seem like a vessel sailing in the real world; it felt more like something from the spirit realm or "deeper places." If it was some kind of supernatural phenomenon, perhaps they could use extraordinary power to fight back.
Old captains sailing the vast sea had some experience with supernatural events.
However, the first mate only saw fear and shock on the captain's face. The old captain stood frozen, gripping the helm as if he hadn’t noticed the entire ship was engulfed in shadow. He stared intently at the looming ship ahead, his face tense like stone. Finally, he managed to squeeze out a few words, colder than the wind on the sea: "It's the Lost Homeland."
"The ship... captain?!" The first mate jumped at the name that reached his ears. Like everyone else who made their living on the vast ocean, he had heard this name from older, more experienced, and superstitious sailors. "What did you say?! That..."
"The Lost Homeland!!!"
Captain Lawrence seemed not to hear the first mate's voice. He simply gripped the helm of the White Oak with all his strength, as if he wanted to roar at something. Almost as soon as he spoke, the imposing hull of the Lost Homeland finally collided with the bow of the White Oak.
Almost all the sailors screamed.
But the expected earth-shattering impact did not happen. The massive ship, burning with green flames, seemed like a grand illusion, sweeping across the deck of the White Oak with a roaring light. Thick hulls, eerie cabins, dimly lit corridors, burning ribs and pillars... The sailors widened their terrified eyes, watching as they crashed into the ghost ship's illusion, and the green flames burning on the ghost ship swept past them like a net of fire.
Lawrence also watched as the flames rushed toward him. But before that, he first saw the flames sweep over the first mate in front of him. The first mate's body suddenly transformed into an ethereal spirit within the illusory flames, his bones burning like firewood. He then saw the priest by the prayer altar, the flames on the priest flickering, as if the deity behind him was still offering faint blessings to protect him from being consumed by the Lost Homeland.
Then the flames reached Lawrence. He saw his own body undergo the same transformation, and a strong sense of fatigue, submission, and fear filled him. The ocean amulet hidden on him began to work, alternating between a burning and cooling sensation that barely maintained his sanity. With the little sanity he had left, he "passed through" the cabins and corridors of the Lost Homeland.
The eerie and oppressive cabin rushed at him and then swept away. Ancient wooden pillars, wrapped in rotting ropes and barnacles, burned with green fire. He saw a huge cargo hold, quietly containing strange items that should have been buried in the deep sea. He also saw a luxurious cabin, where a wooden goat's head rested on a table in the center.
The goat's head turned, coldly staring into Lawrence's eyes.
Finally, Lawrence mustered all his strength to lift his head. He saw a figure at the helm—a tall figure in a black sailor's uniform, standing beside an old-fashioned ship's wheel, exuding an air of authority and terror like a ruler in a nightmare. This figure commanded all the ghostly flames, and even the deep sea seemed to bow to his presence, tearing open a rift behind him.
Lawrence resigned himself and closed his eyes. He knew he was now part of the Lost Homeland. That nightmare captain needed some sacrifices to satisfy his endless emptiness and loneliness.
But the next second, he gathered his courage and opened his eyes again. He felt that all the courage and madness of his life seemed to converge in those few seconds. He recalled the knowledge he had gained from books and legends and looked at the terrifying captain standing on the Lost Homeland with as much honesty and calmness as he could muster.
"You don't need to take everyone—take me, let my crew go."
However, the tall figure did not respond. He merely cast a cold glance, seeming a bit curious—as if wondering why a tiny mortal captain dared to bargain with him.
Lawrence could no longer contain his anger and shouted, "They all have wives and children!!"
The figure on the Lost Homeland finally reacted. He stared in Lawrence's direction, as if saying something, but a loud howling sound interrupted. Amid the howling, Lawrence could only vaguely hear some noise, but not a single word was clear.
The response from the Lost Homeland faded into the roar of the waves—
"What did you say?! The wind is too strong; I can't hear!!"
The next moment, a huge noise rushed into Lawrence's ears, mixed with the sounds of wind, waves, and the shouts of sailors outside. From the corner of his eye, he saw the green flames quickly fade away, and the last remnants of the Lost Homeland's illusion dissipated like mist in the air.
Lawrence took a deep breath and then noticed that his hands, which had been burned by the green flames, had returned to normal. Even the others in the cockpit had transformed back into flesh and blood. The devoted priest was gasping for breath beside the prayer altar, continuously chanting the name of the storm goddess Gomona, while the ominous purple-black smoke from the incense burner gradually dispersed, rising into pure white smoke.
It took Lawrence a long time to catch his breath, and he looked around in disbelief, as if unable to believe that the nightmare had ended, until the first mate's voice came from beside him: "Captain! That ship—the Lost Homeland has left!"
Lawrence seemed dazed, taking a few seconds to mutter, "… he actually let us go?"
The first mate didn’t hear clearly at first: "Captain? What did you say?"
"That Captain Duncan..." Lawrence instinctively murmured, but then it was as if he had accidentally mentioned a forbidden name, and he slapped himself. He suddenly looked up at the first mate, "Do a headcount of the crew, quickly! See if anyone is missing!"
The first mate nodded and was about to leave when Lawrence called him back: "Also check if there’s anyone new on the ship!"
The first mate paused for a moment, then quickly realized, a hint of fear and confusion in his eyes. He took a deep breath, quietly recited the name of the storm goddess, and hurried out onto the deck.
On the White Oak, still in a state of spiritual realm, the assembly bell rang like a death knell.
(End of Chapter)