May 28, XXXX

Today marks the fourth day since the ship left port. The sea is calm, the sky is clear, nothing unusual. Hopefully, it will be another beautiful day!

After jotting down that single line, I close my journal and stretch my shoulders. My name is Thalos Cleveland, the renowned captain of the cargo ship Serenity. My job is to transport goods between the continents of Othesia and Tartaglia. Sounds simple, right? If only it were that easy.

The reason a mere cargo ship captain like me is renowned is because Serenity does not take the silent waters of the Pacific Ocean or the vast emptiness of the Far West Ocean. No, this ship dares to sail straight through the treacherous and deadly waters of the Raging North Ocean.

My father perished in these very waters. This line of work is ruthless: today, the sea might be blue and the waves are gentle, but tomorrow, all that remains might be the shattered debris of your ship washing ashore. My mother worked in a clock-making factory. Even though I have no idea what chemicals they used in the process, those must have been horrific, because within a few years, my mother was paralyzed on one side, and her lower jaw nearly fell off, literally! Back then, I was only eight years old, and my little sister was just five. So, I had no choice but to run around looking for work to keep us alive.

At first, I did errands for shops, but that money was nowhere near enough to feed three mouths. Eventually, I started taking any job I could: smuggling opium, transporting contraband, even working as a hired thug. Luckily, my fighting skills caught the eye of some sailors, and they took me aboard a ship.

Thanks to what happened to my father, I knew one thing: this job pays handsomely! The high mortality rate wasn’t something I cared about back then. Life was already so damn hard, maybe death would be a relief. And if I didn’t die? Well, I’d make a fortune. Either way, it was a win-win. Thanks to my unexpected talent in this field, together with some luck, I survived all those years and eventually became a captain. And now, at the age of fifty-six, here I am.

Let me tell you something, not many sailors who brave the Raging North Ocean live past forty. To have reached this age, I have amassed a fortune and a loving family waiting for me at home. Many have urged me to ‘hang up my boots.’ And I thought to myself, they are damn right! All that time struggling on these cursed waters should be enough. I should return to land and spend the rest of my days in peace with my family. That would be a perfect ending, for me.

I lift my head and stare into the mirror on my desk. Staring back at me is an old man with a thick, scruffy beard and a face etched with wrinkles. Yet, in his eyes, the same determination and sharpness burn as they did in his youth. It is hard to believe that over fifty years ago, on this very ship, before this very mirror, stood a snot-nosed boy, wide-eyed and inexperienced, stepping into a life of danger.

That boy had never feared death. And now, that old man is contemplating retirement.

"What do you think, Serenity?" I mutter to myself. "We’re too old for this, huh? Maybe it’s time to end this long, stormy journey. We should settle down... Oh, right, only I get to settle down. You’ll never get to rest, ha ha ha!"

I laugh at my own joke, but Serenity remains silent, as always. Of course, a ship can’t talk back. I step outside my cabin. But the moment I open the door, a sudden sense of imbalance wash over me.

The ship is swaying.

I quickly grab the door frame for balance, but the rocking only grow more violent, showing no signs of stopping. A deep sense of unease surges within me as I rush out onto the deck. The moment I step outside, I can hear the murmurs of my crew, their voices trembling with fear.

"It’s the Great Storm!"

"The Great Storm is here..."

"Lord have mercy..."

Their fearful whispers mingle with the deafening roar of the waves, making my head pound. But my mind has already gone blank. I stand frozen, horrified by the sight before me. A massive vortex of dark gray clouds raging across the ocean, churning the waters like a ravenous beast. A massive, swirling vortex of dark gray clouds roars across the ocean, churning the waters like a ravenous beast. Serenity is about thirty meters long, but in front of this monstrous force, it is nothing more than a tiny fish facing a Colossal Squid.

Ah, I haven’t explained why the Raging North Ocean is so dangerous, have I?

It borders one of the deadliest regions in the world, the Ocean of Ignorance, Cthustena. Strange things occasionally escape from Cthustena and wander into these waters. Sometimes, ships drift into that abyss, never to return.

And the Great Storm, as we call it, is right in front of me now. Sailors gave it that name out of fear - afraid that calling it by any other name would anger it, as if it had a will of its own. They believed it would come for them and drag them into Cthustena, even though it was just a mindless storm.

But even if, somehow, it has a mind, I'm pretty sure I haven't done anything to anger it. And yet, here it is, coming for me.

...

Goddammit.

Great Storm, my ass. You son of a bitch. What the hell did I ever do to you?

It is just one last delivery... just one more trip. I’ve been sailing these waters for over five decades. Why today, of all days? If you want to take me, why didn’t you do it when I was still a greenhorn, fresh aboard my first ship?

Oh. Because I wouldn’t have feared you then. Because I wouldn’t have loathed you then.

I hold my breath as the storm hungrily devoured the ship. From the bow, it crawls upward, swallowing the hull, then the deck, its maw widening to consume everything. I close my eyes and just wait.

Well… what can I say? Sometimes life just hurls a real bitter lemon straight at your face.

—

I don’t know how much time has passed. As I open my eyes, I find Serenity adrift in a strange, deathly silent sea.

The deck is flooded with water rising up to my calves, like a freezing hand tightening around my skin. The entire ship groans and creaks, as if it were alive, writhing in pain from the storm that has just passed. The sharp scent of salt and clinging seaweed invade every corner of Serenity.

The sailors gather on the deck. Some of them, unlucky enough to have taken the brunt of the storm, stand drenched with their clothes soaked and their hair plastered to their foreheads. I am no better off myself, though. 

Those who have been in the cabin during the chaos have just emerged, listening to the others recount what has happened. Their faces quickly turn blank, their spirits crushed. A suffocating silence settles over the ship - so oppressive that even the faintest breath sounds deafening.

No one speaks because no one knows what to say. The Ocean of Ignorance, Cthustena, the domain of horrors beyond human comprehension. Once you set foot in this place, no amount of experience, no years of sailing matter anymore. Everything you think you know becomes meaningless.  

But while they can remain silent, I cannot. I am the captain. I have to speak.  

I clear my throat, drawing their attention before raising my voice.  

"Alright, pull yourselves together, lads! We’re still alive, so wipe those miserable looks off your faces. Jacob, try contacting the North Sea Rescue Station. Glenn, increase the log entries to four times a day. Percy, ration the supplies, we have no idea how long we’ll be stuck in this godforsaken place."  

A man suddenly raises his hand. Wilson Pearson, my boatswain. A middle-aged man with a scruffy golden beard. I stop and nod for him to speak.  

"Captain… what’s the point of all this? This is the Ocean of Ignorance!"  

"So what do you propose?" I raise an eyebrow. "Cower in fear and wait for it to swallow us whole? There are ships that have made it out of Cthustena alive. If they could do it, why can’t I?"  

"B-but those ships belonged to adventurers with supernatural abilities! W-we’re just ordinary men!"  

I step closer. Wilson flinches, taking a few shaky steps backward, his hands gripping his soaked coat. His eyes are filled with pure terror, like a rat trapped in a corner. Pathetic. I should never have let someone like him become my boatswain.  

"I am Thalos," I say coldly. "I’ve been sailing the damned Raging North Ocean for fifty-five years. Those adventurers you speak of, how many of them do you think survive in these waters for even ten?"  

Wilson casts his eyes downward, silent. I pull my revolver from my belt and click the safety off. Wilson stiffens, his entire body trembling. The cold steel gleams in his wide, terrified eyes as I hold it out toward him.  

"Take it. If you’ve already given up, then go ahead and end it yourself. My ship has no place for cowards. Besides, I was worrying about food shortage, you could be of some use."  

Wilson shakes like a leaf, then collapses onto his knees, his voice breaking. "P-please, Captain! I-I don’t want to die! Please don’t kill me!"  

"Hmph!" I holster my revolver and scan the crew. "Anyone else want to give up? Speak now. I promise it’ll be quick and painless. But as for me, I refuse to surrender. I will find a way back. If you want to make it home, then do as I say and get to work!"  

"Aye, Captain!" they shout in unison.  

I give a curt nod, then motion for the ship’s navigator. "Glenn, follow me to my cabin."  

Glenn is an old man, his face a mass of wrinkles, his features nearly indistinguishable beneath a massive burn scar that covers half his face and arm. He has served as Serenity's navigator for twenty years. When he first boarded, he had already been over forty. Before that, he had been a university professor, though what had driven him to abandon academia for the sea is anyone’s guess.  

Once inside, I cut straight to the point. "Do you know a way out of the Ocean of Ignorance?"  

If he was a professor, maybe he knows something useful. Glenn mulls over the question for a moment before speaking in his usual slow, deliberate tone.  

"In the Ocean of Ignorance, compasses spin aimlessly, the stars refuse to guide, and no map has ever been able to chart these waters. It is nearly impossible to determine a way out."  

I frown. "Then how did the ships that escaped manage to do it?"  

Glenn does not disappoint me. He continues, his tone unwavering.  

"There is a seamark line, which is stretching from the Othesia sea borders into the depths of the Ocean of Ignorance. It was established to allow adventurers to explore these waters. If… we are lucky enough to find it, we might be able to escape."  

I sigh. At least there is something to cling to. Luck, huh…? I have survived the Raging North Ocean for fifty-five years. Luck has never abandoned me before. This time shall be no different.

"Alright," I decide. "For now, you’re no longer the ship’s navigator. You are our Recorder."  

The Recorder, an essential role in places like this. When the very nature of these cursed waters can twist and distort the human mind, the only thing we can trust is the logbook of the Recorder. As Glenn leaves, Jacob, my first mate, goes in. His skin is darkened by years under the sun, but his rare blue eyes always carry a weary look. Today, that exhaustion is deeper than ever.  

"Captain," he reports grimly. "The radio is completely dead."  

Not surprising. This is the Ocean of Ignorance, after all. I tell him what Glenn has said. A flicker of hope flashes in his eyes, but it quickly fades.  

"Take turns steering the ship with Clinton," I order. "Sail in any direction. Eventually, we’ll find a way out."  

On the open sea, sailing without a fixed direction is one of the deadliest mistakes a captain can make. But this is no ordinary ocean. The Ocean of Ignorance has its own rules.  

As Jacob walks away, I reach into my desk and pull out my thick, yellow leather-bound journal. It is a gift from Margaret, my beloved wife. Opening it, I pick up a pen and begin to write.  

In those lands of the dead, the rule is to always trust the Recorder's notes.  

But there is another rule.  

Trust no one but yourself.  

Day One lost in Cthustena, thirteen crew members remain.

I am not that weak. This is just another bizarre sea. It won’t be the one to kill me. The Ocean of Ignorance? Ha. I won’t be ignored, I will walk away from this place, and the entire world will have to remember my name.

—

Day three lost in Cthustena, thirteen crew members remain.

Beyond expectations, the Ocean of Ignorance greets Serenity with remarkable gentleness. Two days pass, and almost nothing happens. The only notable event occurs tonight when a mass of thick, black sludge suddenly wriggles onto the deck. After taking a few musket shots, it ceases moving, and the crew promptly tosses it overboard.

Old Glenn calls it Tarred Moss. It isn’t dangerous, but it signals something concerning: the ship has entered the sight of the residents inside the Ocean of Ignorance.

I fold my journal shut, feeling uneasy. Deciding to check on the crew, I take a walk around the ship. Stepping onto the deck, I tilt my head back and look up at the sky. Tonight, the sky is cloudless, revealing the beautiful starry night. The moon is full yet eerily dim, as if its light flickers in an invisible rhythm… Come on! It’s only the third day, and you’re already seeing things, Thalos? Are you really that fragile?

Shaking off my stray thoughts, I head toward the helm. Jacob sits by the wheel, staring blankly at a locket in his hand, a small trinket containing a picture of his family. The boy, Clinton, sleeps nearby, his snores filling the quiet space. Seeing me approach, Jacob quickly tucks the locket away and nods in greeting. I pull up a chair beside him and start a conversation.

"Your son John’s getting married soon, right? Have you settled on a date?"

"This year, at the end of winter." At the mention of his son, Jacob’s face softens, breaking into a warm smile. "We’re planning to hold the wedding at Saint Paulo’s church."

"You’ve got it easy." I nod, then sigh. "My daughter’s already twenty, yet no matter how much I push, she refuses to get married. Geez, kids these days..."

Jacob chuckles, and the atmosphere lightens. Leaning back in my chair, I comment idly:

"The weather’s really nice tonight. I’ve spent my whole life sailing the Raging North Ocean, seen all sorts of storms, lightning, and howling winds, yet clear skies like these are really rare. Who would’ve thought the Ocean of Ignorance could offer such a pleasant night?"

Jacob laughs. "Yeah, you’re right. The moon’s shining really bright too."

"Hmm? I thought it looked kind of hazy, not particularly bright."

Jacob’s smile freezes. His eyes widen, pupils contracting. A sinking feeling coils in my gut as he rasps out:

"Captain... tonight is a crescent moon night."

A chill runs down my spine. Without a word, I rush onto the deck and look up again. The same round, hazy moon looms overhead, unmistakable. I sprint back to the helm, grab the speaking tube, and bellow:

"Glenn! Check the records! What phase is the moon tonight?"

In moments, the old man’s gruff voice crackles from the metal tube: "Crescent!"

"Get to the helm, now!" I order before turning to Clinton, giving him a sharp kick. "Wake up! Go turn on the floodlights, point them straight up!"

"Huh? Ah! Aye, Captain!"

The boy jolts awake, wipes his mouth, and scrambles off. Glenn arrives moments later, clutching a thick, silver-edged tome under his arm.

"What’s going on, Captain?"

I don’t answer. I just point skyward. He follows my gaze, and freezes. His aged eyes tremble. At that very moment, the floodlights switch on, piercing through the night sky.

No. That isn’t the sky.

I look up, my heart turning to ice. The tiny specks of light I mistook for stars are not stars at all. No, no, it can’t be... Blinking rapidly, I try to deny the truth laid bare before me.

They aren’t stars.

They are bioluminescent markings along the belly of something drifting above our ship. Something massive, obscuring the entire sky!

Glenn stammers, his voice shaking:

"I-it’s the Moon-Hauling Whale!"

What kind of damn whale flies in the sky?! I curse silently and dash into the helm, roaring into the speaking tube:

"Terry! Shovel more coal into the furnace, full speed ahead! Wilson! Wake the crew, dump the cargo to lighten the ship!"

Steam hisses as the ship shudders forward. But the moon above remains still, unmoving. It watches. Observes this insignificant vessel beneath it. Thankfully, it doesn’t seem particularly interested in Serenity. With its sheer size, our ship is probably too small to even be a snack.

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But even if it doesn’t care about us. Just the present of it is giving us some headache, and by that, I mean literally! As if its own shadow is trying to lurk into our minds.

We flee for four agonizing hours. Terry screams himself hoarse, warning that the furnace is on the verge of exploding. And then, at some unknown moment—just as our strength is about to fail, the ship finally breaches into sunlight. It is midday.

Exhaustion, hunger, and weariness crash over us all at once. My head throbs every time I think about the colossal creature, yet I can’t stop thinking about it. As if it has burrowed itself deep into my mind. Into everyone’s minds.

Slumping into my chair, I exhale a weary sigh and mutter to Glenn:

"Add today’s entry to the records."

—

Day six lost in Cthustena, thirteen crew members remain.

Today, the sea is calm, the skies clear, no abnormalities for now. The dreams of that monstrous whale have ceased, and everyone seems to have recovered. Except for Jacob. He has begun mumbling nonsense lately, a worrying development.

Since yesterday, small items have started vanishing from the ship. Wilson says a sailor lost his broom. Louis reports his Bible has gone missing. The crew notes several other objects disappearing as well. So far, food remains untouched. I instruct Glenn to watch his logbook carefully and install additional locks on my journal cabinet.

Though we’ve only lost trivial belongings, the psychological toll on the crew is growing. I need to solve this before things spiral further.

Margaret, I miss you.

Closing my journal, I stand up and make my way to the mess hall. It is lunchtime. The food aboard is already unappetizing, and with rationing in place, the portions are even smaller than usual.

"How much food do we have left?"

"Enough to last two months, Captain," replies Neil, our cook, a dwarf with a thick beard reaching the floor.

I nod. At least provisions aren’t a concern yet. But then, Wilson suddenly asks a younger sailor beside him:

"Where’s Bob?"

"He’s probably still scrubbing the deck. I’ll go fetch him."

The sailor leaves, and the rest of us continue our meal. But fifteen minutes later, he returns, face pale, lips trembling.

"H-he’s gone."

"What?"

"I searched everywhere. Bob’s nowhere to be found! He... he vanished!"

A single sentence sends a tidal wave of dread crashing through the mess hall. Panic spreads like wildfire. I shoot to my feet, issuing swift orders:

"Terry, take two with you and search the engine room. Wilson, take two and check the sleeping quarters. Jacob, take two and sweep the deck. Glenn, Louis, with me."

We tear through the ship, overturning every corner. But after thirty minutes, we reconvene on deck, empty-handed.

Bob is gone.

On a ship in the middle of the ocean, with no hiding places, a man has disappeared as if he never existed. No one needs to say it, but we’re all thinking the same thing - those missing objects have been a warning.

Losing trinkets is one thing. But now, a man has vanished.

I order the armory unlocked, distributing pistols and daggers to every crew member.

"From now on, no one goes anywhere alone. Always stay in pairs. Sleep together in the crew quarters. Maintenance and cleaning are suspended. Until we understand what’s happening, no one moves without my command."

The sleeping quarters are spacious enough to accommodate all twelve of us. But that night, no one of us is able to find rest.

—

Day Seven lost in Cthustena, twelve crew members remain. Bob Norris is missing, likely dead. And we still haven’t found Othesia’s seamark line.

I hastily scribble a line in my journal before shutting it. I have no mood to write further. Before, I only record my entries at night and review them in the morning. But ever since we got lost here, I have broken it up into four times a day, morning, noon, afternoon, and night, writing and rereading constantly.

I’m not sure if it’s helpful, but it’s a rule that those deadland adventurers always pass down. So it’s better to try, even if it’s in vain, than not to try at all.

The ship is now divided into two groups, each with six people. My group is in the control room, while Terry’s is in the engine room. I find myself calculating: had we followed the normal schedule, I should be on my way home from Othesia by now.

I glance at Louis, who is gripping his trident-shaped pendant and muttering a prayer. He is a priest from the Deep Sea Church, sent by the company. Every ship that sets sail has to have a priest on board to protect it through storms and tempests.

Is this what they call protection?

We are stranded in Cthustena, yet he is still clutching that pendant, praying to his gods. If his prayers work, why has no deity pulled Serenity out of the Ocean of Ignorance? Or can even the gods not intervene in Cthustena? If so, then what kind of useless gods are they?

I stand up and call to the others. 

“Let’s head to the mess hall—it’s time. Hm? Where are Clinton and Alan?”

“They went to the restroom. We can go ahead,” Wilson says, slapping his thigh as he gets up.

I raise a hand to stop him. “No. Let’s wait.”

Wilson sighs and sits back down. And so we wait, ten minutes, then twenty. No one returns. The others begin to sense something is off. Wilson licks his lips and awkwardly says: “Maybe… they already went to the mess hall?”

I clench my fists, frustrated: “Disobeying orders and acting on their own? Do those two idiots have a death wish?”

Just as I step out the door, I run into Terry’s group coming up from below. Seeing me, Terry lets out a relieved breath and asks: “Why haven’t you guys come down to the mess hall?”

I frown. “Have you seen Clinton and Alan?”

“Huh? Don’t tell me they—”

Terry pales, and the others don’t look any better.

That entire afternoon, an eerie silence hangs over the ship. The air is suffocatingly heavy. Even the smallest sound can make someone jump, yet no one dares to move too much, every nerve wound tight, afraid that they will be the next to disappear.

I know I should say something to reassure the crew, but I am barely holding it together myself. Leaning against the railing, I gaze at the distant sea, hoping that nature’s colors can calm my heart. But the more I stare, the deeper my despair becomes.

Cthustena’s waters are eerily still. Nothing but an endless stretch of blue reaching to the horizon, no birds, no clouds, no distant islands. Not even wind. If not for the strange occurrences on the ship, one might think this is truly a dead sea, completely lifeless.

I have always feared things like this. Storms can howl, lightning can tear the sky apart, but once they pass, I can still smile at the rainbow in the clear sky. But this... this unchanging, eternal stillness, it feels like invisible hands tightening around me, slowly strangling the life out of me.

In our languages, a river is deemed a living thing, but a lake is just like any other things like rocks and sand. As the water no longer moves, no one calls it a river anymore because in its stillness, it has lost its vitality.

Perhaps people fear death because it is the ultimate stillness. It is just there, waits for us, and when we finally touch it, we will never change again. Every effort, every struggle, every ambition only holds meaning if it can create change, even the smallest mark on the endless flow of time.

I exhale heavily, tilting my head back, only for something to flicker in the corner of my eye. Thinking I have imagined it, I rub my eyes and look again.

It is still there.

The ship’s sails. They have been unfurled, despite the windless air.

“Wilson! Who the hell told you to open the sails?!”

“Huh? We-we didn’t! Ever since your order not to act without permission, none of us touched anything!”

Then have they been open all along, and we forgot to close them? But I never ordered the sails to be raised in the first place. I narrow my eyes, staring at the mast. My hand instinctively reaches for the pistol at my side.

“Something’s wrong… The sails aren’t unfurling.”

The ship’s sails are still tightly furled. The thing that has spread open on the mast isn’t ours!

A chill runs down my spine. Without hesitation, I draw my pistol and fire several shots at the false sail. The bullets punch through, revealing gaping wounds of red flesh beneath. A sickly green fluid gushes out.

The crew, panicked, grabs their guns and fires.

A shrill, piercing screech echoes.

Then, from that sail, a mass of pale tentacles bursts forth.

I toss aside the pistol, grab my musket, and fire straight at the monstrous creature. It lets out a screech, convulsing as it slithers down the stern. A dull splash follows as it hits the water.

We all rush to the stern, peering down, only to see the sea stained in that ghastly green hue. The monster’s shadow vanishes beneath the waves.

“Glenn, what the hell was that?”

“...A Giant Kite Jellyfish. A type of enormous, flat-bodied jellyfish, white in color. They usually feed on forgotten debris... but they can also eat people.”

At least now, we have an answer to why three crew members have vanished. A weight lifts from my shoulders, and I exhale in relief. Knowing that such a creature exists doesn’t instill fear. It is almost a comfort.

Because the most terrifying thing is what we are ignorant of.

And the most terrifying ocean is the Ocean of Ignorance.

—

Day Eleven Lost in Cthustena, ten crew members remain.

Even though we have identified the cause of the disappearances, everyone still sleeps together and operates in pairs. After all, no one knows when something like that will crawl onto the ship again.

Lately, I have been having strange dreams. Sometimes, I see people wearing odd clothing, their faces fully covered with masks, saying something to me. Other times, I see a colossal squid, larger than anything I have ever known. Just recalling its shape sends my mind into chaos. The only thing I can remember is how its breath alone causes tsunamis, and how its every movement triggers earthquakes.

I carefully pen each letter in my journal, there is nothing else to do anyway. If the schedule has gone as planned, I would have returned to land by now, welcomed into Margaret’s embrace…

Suddenly, I feel the words on the page writhing, as if trying to escape. I blink, shake my head, then look again, just to find the journal is the same as before. Rubbing my temples, I let out a deep sigh. Lately, I have been sighing a lot, perhaps more than in the past ten years combined.

Lost in thought, I am startled by a scream from the deck, a scream so shattered with panic that I can’t even recognize whose voice it is.

“I’ve had enough of this damned place!!”

Then, a splash!

I rush to the railing, only to see ripples spreading across the water, bubbles bursting at the surface. Others also run over.

“Someone… jumped overboard?”

“Dear God above!”

I wave them off and order, “Alright, disperse! Just another coward who couldn’t take it anymore.”

Sometimes, having the courage to keep living is far braver, there is nothing good but shame about taking one’s own life. Just as I am about to leave, my feet suddenly freeze in place.

“Wait!”

“What’s wrong, Captain?”

“Is something the matter, Capt?”

Gritting my teeth, I shout, “Roll call! One!”

Voices follow in sequence “Two,” “Three”, one after another, until it reaches a young sailor who has turned deathly pale. Trembling, he stammers:

“T-ten!”

There are ten people aboard the ship. One has jumped into the sea. Yet, there are still ten people aboard the ship. No one says a word, but fearful glances sweep between us. I can see suspicion creeping into every gaze.

Because, right now, one of us isn’t human.

I clench my fists and bark, “Thalos Cleveland, Captain, Crew ID 011.”

The others follow suit, stating their names and positions.

“Jacob Steele, First Mate, Crew ID 015.”

“Terry Rowe, Chief Engineer and Furnace Master, Crew ID 021.”

“Percy Miller, Ship’s Medic, Crew ID 022.”

…

“Louis McFarland, Priest, Crew ID 049.”

Everything checks out. No one hesitates. No one forgets their crew number. I frown slightly, glancing at Glenn for insight. As expected, he speaks in a grave tone:

“I believe we are dealing with… a Morphing Fiend. A creature capable of shape-shifting, and even reading the minds of those around it to perfect its disguise.”

“How do we expose it?”

At that moment, the priest raises his hand.

“To reveal a Morphing Fiend, we need sulfur-infused silver. Its blood reacts uniquely with the metal. I have some.”

I nod at him. “Bring it out. Jacob, go with him.”

The two of them quickly head below deck. Moments later, Louis returns, carrying a thin, triangular piece of metal. He hands it to me. I turn to Glenn, waiting for his confirmation before taking the piece. With two people verifying the method, the information is likely correct, after all, only one Morphing Fiend is aboard at the moment.

At least, I hope so.

I unsheathe my dagger, prick my fingertip, and let a drop of blood fall onto the triangle. No reaction. I gesture for the others to do the same.

When it is the turn of a young blond-haired, blue-eyed boy, he trembles, refusing to comply.

“What are you doing, Bruce? Just drop your blood already.”

Old Neil, the cook, smacks the boy on the head. Bruce is his apprentice, Neil has long since treated him like his own son.

“But… I’m scared! Besides, how do we know this thing is real? What if… what if Mr. Louis is the Mo—”

Before he can finish, Neil covers his mouth, glaring at him. I say nothing, just pull out my revolver and shoot him in the leg. The others recoil in shock, likely never expecting me to act so decisively. But as a seasoned sailor, I know when to trust my instincts.

“AARGH!!!” The boy screams, collapsing, tears and snot streaming down his face.

I press the metal triangle against his wound, forcing the blood to touch it. Immediately, it foams and congeals into a vile green sludge. At that moment, the crew no longer needs my command. Guns are drawn, fingers clench around triggers, and bullets tear through the boy’s head. His disguise broken, the creature reveals its true form. Bruce’s skin cracks apart, exposing writhing black tendrils beneath.

It looks terrifying, but after five gunshots, the fiend collapses, motionless.

“Throw it overboard.”

Leaving those words behind, I walk back to my quarters.

—

Day Twelve lostin Cthustena, nine crewnembers remain.

I’m so tireed. I juswtant to go home. I reelyl missyyu, Margaret.

Suddenly, a wave of imbalance hits me again, making me stumble, nearly collapsing onto the table. Struggling to steady myself, I rush out of my quarters and sprint to the helm. And then, a sight that makes my blood boil unfolds before me.

No one. Not a single soul in the control room.

Furious, I lean into the speaking tube, ready to shout at… shout at who?

Who is supposed to be at the helm? My breathing grows rapid as I roar into the tube:

“All hands on deck!”

I’m the… I’m the captain! That’s right, I’m the captain of this ship… but the others… Who is the first mate? Who is the engineer? I can’t remember. What the hell is happening?

Once the crew has gathered, I raise my voice and shout:

“Roll call! State your positions! Thalos Cleveland, Captain!”

Silence. Suffocating silence. Then, slowly, a few voices respond.

“Percy Miller… I… don’t know.”

“Neil Lawson… me neither.”

…

Aside from the captain, no one can remember their roles on the ship. How ridiculous! A ship where the crew doesn’t even know their own duties, this is no better than the Ship of Fools from those old satirical tales!

I clutch my head, trembling, mumbling under my breath:

“We are in the Ocean of Ignorance. This… this must be its doing! It’s making us forget our roles! That’s it! The ship’s record! Find the records, it must have our duties written down!”

I run to my quarters, tearing through everything in search of the book. Not long after, I find a thick tome with silver-edged covers. Flipping through its pages, my breath hitches. My skin crawls with an unexplainable dread.

“Everyone, back on deck!”

I chase the others up while I reach for my musket.

On deck, the crew watches me anxiously, their faces filled with unease. I offer them a reassuring smile, speaking gently:

“Roll call again. State your names.”

After hearing the names, I single out three individuals. Then, without hesitation, I raise my gun and fire three shots.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The crew recoils in horror, stepping back. The three who have been shot convulse violently. Their flesh splits apart, revealing extra arms sprouting grotesquely from their backs. Their skin turns a searing crimson, as if burning from within.

“There are only nine of us on this ship! They are monsters! Open fire!”

At my command, the crew draws their weapons and riddles the creatures with bullets.

In less than a minute, the three abominations lie lifeless on the deck, their putrid black blood oozing across the wood.

Just as I exhale in relief, the ship suddenly lurches. I bellow:

“Jacob! You’re the first mate! Take the helm!”

“But… I don’t know how to steer!”

I freeze, staring at him in shock.

Of course.

This is the Ocean of Ignorance.

It doesn’t make people forget.

It makes them ignorant.

—

Day Fourteen lost in Cthustena, mine crew Members remain.

The cook had forgotten how to prepare food, so the already terrible meals aboard the ship had sunk to an even lower standard. How muchlonger must I eendure this? Twoweeks have passed, how much longer? Howmuch olonger? How meuch longer? How muchalonger?

I pretend not to see the letters dancing and twisting on the page. Shutting my journal, I carefully lock it away in my cabinet.

During lunch today, the crew stumbles upon a strange fish floating inside the cargo hold. It has sideways jaws and bulging eyes, resembling an oversized ant’s head—a grotesque sight. Old Glenn stares at it for a while before declaring it to be a Script-Devouring Fish. Adventurers have seen these creatures gnawing on books before, but no one knows whether they have any other effects.

The moment I hear it eats books, my soul nearly leaves my body. I sprint back to my quarters to check my journal. Thankfully, the one Margaret gave me is still intact. After all, most of the crew can't read nor write, and old Glenn did not bring any of his books on board this time. That means my journal is the only book aboard.

On the bright side, the fish’s flesh seems edible. A small stroke of luck, though insignificant compared to the fact that we are still adrift in the Ocean of Ignorance. Exhausted from the long day, I collapse onto my bed. Since I am the only one who still remembers my duties, I have to steer the ship myself while guiding the others to tend the furnace.

I wonder, am I fortunate to remember? Or is Cthustena merely toying with me, forcing me to be the one who knows?

I don’t care. I just want to sleep.

—

Today marks the seventh day since the ship left port. The sea is calm, the weather fair, eerily peaceful. Today, the Serenity docks at Outis!

Closing my journal, I stroll toward the mess hall. As soon as I open the door, the mouthwatering aroma of food fills my nose. Chuckling, I call out:

“What’s on the menu today, Mr. Neil?”

“A special grilled fish, personally prepared by old Neil himself! Hahaha!” He pats his belly with a hearty laugh before setting a platter of fish on the table. “Cooking alone is exhausting! If you don’t hire me any assistant, I’ll work myself to death one day!”

“Too bad! That’s not my problem anymore. After this voyage, I’m retiring.”

“Ah!” Terry, sitting beside me, widens his eyes in surprise. “You’ve decided to retire, Captain Thalos?”

“Yeah. I’m too old now—don’t have the strength to fight against the Raging North Ocean anymore.”

Laughter and chatter fill our meal. Once we finish eating, everyone returns to their posts. Before long, the ship nears the shore. Hearing the familiar voice of the first mate over the speaking tube, I quickly pack my belongings, preparing to disembark.

And yet, for some reason, unease gnaws at my heart. It is a beautiful day. The ship is about to reach port. And yet, my chest feels tight with an unshakable anxiety. I pick up my journal, intending to skim through a few pages to calm myself.

But what I see makes my heart nearly burst from my chest.

No. No, this can’t be real.

The Ocean of Ignorance?

What kind of sick joke is this? This is supposed to be my last voyage.

Has someone scribbled nonsense into my journal? Which bastard dares to pull such a cruel prank?

A suffocating pressure washes over me. My entire body stiffens. My mind goes blank. I sit there, motionless, unsure how much time has passed before I finally force myself to move.

The ship is empty. The crew has… disembarked.

The Ocean of Ignorance has no islands.

I step to the railing, gazing at the shore ahead. The crew stands on the dock. They stand there, just stand there. Their backs are turned to me, their bodies angled as if stepping forward, yet their feet never move.

I stare at the eerie sight, losing track of time.

As the sun begins to set, I realize something horrifying—their figures are fading. Their colors dull, turning almost translucent.

I understand then.

They are no longer here.

Returning to the ship, I pull out my journal and scrawl a few final words.

Day Fifteen lost in Cthustena, one crew member remains.

It’s over.

—

The moment I open my eyes, a strange fish is floating before me. It has sideways jaws and bulging eyes, resembling the grotesquely enlarged head of an ant. Perhaps it is some creature from the Ocean of Ignorance that has wandered into the Raging North Ocean. Though I have no idea how it entered my quarters, I promptly send it away, with two bullets.

Today, the ship returns to land. Today is also my last day at sea.

As I step onto the deck, the other crew members greet me with respectful nods. Of course, they do. After all, I am the renowned Captain Thalos Cleveland, a man with over fifty years of seafaring experience in the perilous Raging North Ocean.

When land comes into view, Jacob, the first mate, announces it across the ship. The younger sailors hurry up to the deck, their eyes gleaming with relief at the sight of the shore. No one wants to remain in the Raging North Ocean a second longer than necessary.

And yet, I have spent over fifty years here.

Maybe I should write a book about my experiences, I could make a fortune from it. Shame I never kept a journal. If I had, turning it into a book would have been much easier. Now, I have to rely solely on my memory.

And what can be more unreliable than memory?

Nonetheless, the fortune I’ve amassed over the years is more than enough for a comfortable and worry-free retirement. As soon as the ship docks, the crew erupts into cheers, rushing ashore in celebration. I shake my head with a smile, grab my luggage, and step off the ship.

Margaret, I’m back!

—

On June 13, XXXX, after seventeen days adrift in the Ocean of Ignorance, the Serenity sank, forever resting in the abyss of the deep.

—

The Ship of Fools – Completed.