Sherman, wearing wooden handcuffs, watched the bishop in a deep red robe in front of the altar, silent.

He was facing a religious trial.

The bishop's face was as still as water, slightly tilting his chin up, trying hard to radiate the authority bestowed upon him by his god.

"Name."

"Sherman von Adenna."

Sherman's reply, shaky, combined with his raised head, conveyed a strange devotion, as if he was about to willingly step onto the altar.

"I heard you blaspheme the supreme sun, is that true?"

Sherman could feel the hostility around him, even the expressions on the statues of gods carved on the pillars in the hall seemed to turn fierce.

"I just dislike the sun always being overhead. Where I come from, there are days and nights, suns and moons. Our sun rises in the east and sets in the west, unlike here…"

Sherman's words were drowned out by the crowd's whispering, some chuckled, some sighed and shook their heads, but most accused Sherman of blasphemy.

"Silence, silence!"

The bishop's voice echoed like a bell throughout the hall.

The idea of the supreme sun setting was unimaginable to them.

"Some say you come from the cursed and haunted Azure Sea?"

"Yes, when I first arrived here five years ago, I woke up to the dark forests of the Azure Sea."

"And where were you before that?"

Sherman's gaze went through the bishop, through the walls, as if recalling something very distant yet clear.

"Before, I was working at a geological survey company…"

His mumbling in his world's language sounded like chanting spells to the others, making them hold their breath in fear.

Previously outstretched necks now retracted, eyes darted away, and the semicircle of whisperers doubled in size, as if breathing the same air as Sherman would bring disaster upon them.

The bishop's expression was also one of shock; he raised his hands high, as if to exorcise demons.

"This man's soul died in the Azure Sea five years ago! Now, he has been possessed by the demons of the sea! Take him away, let his flesh return to the embrace of the Flame God!"

The outcome of the burning did not surprise Sherman; in fact, it was part of his plan.

In the square in front of the temple of the Flame God, Sherman, tied to a stake, looked up at the orange sun overhead, with several black spots clearly visible, as if multiple pupils on an eyeball, overseeing this madness.

Bundles of firewood were piled around Sherman, and a man was pouring kerosene on them, the smell of something rotten drilling into Sherman's brain.

The crowd was dense, gathering around the bishop yet not daring to come too close, enjoying the protection of the clergy while not offending their authority, like a group of chirping young animals.

He walked to the side of the execution ground, raised a hand, and the noisy crowd, like wheat blown down by the wind, gradually fell silent.

With a shake of his hands, under the fluttering wide robe, he raised his right hand and began to chant.

The crowd bowed their heads, joined their hands, some even with tears in their eyes, murmuring softly with the bishop, like leaves rustling in the wind at night.

"Sherman von Adenna! May the god of flames purify your soul!"

Facing the judgment of God's spokesperson, Sherman seemed not to hear, looking up, not paying attention to the boiling crowd and the executioner approaching.

With a long whistle, everyone's gaze was drawn to the sky.

A shadow gradually covered everyone, blocking the glory of the supreme sun.

It was Sherman's airship, the Crescent, resembling a sailboat with two buoyancy bags.

This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

Whoosh, a steel anchor with a rope attached plunged into the stone street, scattering pebbles everywhere.

Simultaneously, Sherman twisted his hands, breaking free from the chains strong enough to bind a bull, easily tearing off the ropes on his body, kicking away the firewood, and running to the steel anchor, pulling it out.

The Crescent rose rapidly, retracting the steel anchor amidst the chaotic screams of the crowd, with Sherman clinging to the spear, leaving the ground.

He looked back, the bishop standing in the crowd, shouting, had lost all the authority given by God.

Despite his attempts to calm the people, the airship's proximity to the temple tower shattered the sense of security given by God, causing panic everywhere.

"Captain, welcome back."

Sherman "hmm"ed, looking at his first mate, whose face was covered in white stubble, and asked, "Anthony, why are you so slow?"

"There are three airship garrisons on this sky island. It took some effort to leave the berth quietly with the Crescent."

"Did you get the item?"

"We got it. It's in the second-level cargo hold, Patto is guarding it.

Hey, captain, did you find what you were looking for?"

"That thing has nothing to do with the Land of Return."

Sherman shook his head in reply, his face filled with disappointment, a sharp contrast to the joy and determination he had before the departure.

Because the Land of Return that Sherman had been dreaming of is a legendary bridge to another world, the only hope for Sherman to return to his own world.

To obtain clues, messages, or even vague legends about the Land of Return, he spent all his income and even took on this dirty job without hesitation.

On the bridge, the helmsman and the crew chief saluted Sherman. They were breathing rapidly and excitedly, like cats tasting blood for the first time.

Sherman issued a series of orders, the airship's gasbag began to fill, and its speed also started to increase.

Standing next to Sherman, Anthony asked, "Captain, I have a question. Why do you always take on the most dangerous tasks yourself? You know you're the captain."

Clearly, in the eyes of this old first mate, leading from the front was not a captain's job.

"I'm afraid you won't do it well, and that might end up killing you all."

Seeing Sherman's awkwardly devout look, Anthony smirked, leaned in, and whispered, "Captain, please take that broken thing off."

Sherman was startled for a moment, then quickly took off the pendant hanging around his neck and stuffed it into a leather bag.

This leaf-shaped pendant that had been with him for five years was a genuine cursed object.

Although wearing it significantly increased strength, the side effect of always having to answer questions truthfully and in detail always left Sherman in awkward situations.

Twenty minutes later, three smaller airships had become barely visible dots behind the Crescent, unable to catch up.

"It's surprising that such a small sky island still has an airship garrison..."

After sighing, Sherman ordered the crew to return to port at full speed.

For the crew, the order to return was undoubtedly the most welcome command, as home not only had warm beds but also the tender embraces of their ladies.

But Sherman disliked returning because it meant giving up on exploring the location of the Land of Return, which only took him further away from his home.

Before returning, Sherman had to check the cargo, the item he had risked the danger of being burned at the stake to acquire.

When he and Anthony arrived at the second-level cargo hold, a faint murmuring stopped them in their tracks.

Sherman took out the leaf-shaped pendant from the bag and hung it on his chest, drew his homemade firearm, and carefully moved forward beside the piles of cargo.

Following the dim light from the oil lamp, Patto's vague silhouette appeared in front of Sherman. He was kneeling there, his shoulders heaving, muttering under his breath.

"Elena, take me away... Elena, take me away..."

This voice was muffled, like that of a person in extreme shock murmuring subconsciously.

Sherman immediately stopped, blocking Anthony who was trying to peek, and started to retreat until the two of them left the second-level cargo hold.

"Didn't you tell him not to open it?"

Anthony's hands were shaking uncontrollably, the lantern swaying in his grasp, casting moving shadows across the entire cargo hold as if a group of evil spirits were wandering around.

"I told him... but who knew he..."

Anthony's gaze fell on the pendant on Sherman's chest. He grabbed Sherman's wrist as if it were his only lifeline.

"Captain, I ask you, are we all going to die?"

Sherman looked up from his thoughts, his brows deeply furrowed.

"What we have to do next, if any of us chickens out, everyone on this airship will die."

Anthony solemnly nodded, his hands no longer trembling. He knew the captain spoke the truth, and based on their three years of sailing experience, the captain's judgment was always impeccably right.

A few minutes later, Sherman handed the pendant and his homemade firearm to Anthony. He then dressed himself tightly, wearing two pairs of thick gloves.

"Before I cover that thing, don't you dare come up. Just one glance and we'll end up just like Patto."

After saying this, Sherman lifted a bedsheet, took a rough look at Patto's position, closed his eyes, and charged forward with the bedsheet.

In the chaos, Sherman felt a hard object, which he pressed down with all his might.

After a piercing scream, Patto attacked Sherman like a madman, screaming incessantly.

"Give it back! Return it to me!"

This voice was exceptionally sharp, grating like a metal scraper on glass.

Sherman curled up, enduring Patto's punches, his eyes closed as he pulled the bedsheet, wrapping the hard object as tightly as possible.

"Anthony! I've covered it! Hurry!"

Anthony was frozen, not from Patto's frenzied attacks, but because he saw Patto's face.

Where Patto's eyes should have been, there were now two deep cavities, with blood gushing out. Patto's originally dark and handsome face was gone, replaced by a twisted, bloodless, bizarre visage.

After glancing at the object in Sherman's arms, now wrapped and indistinguishable, Anthony quickly looked away and charged at Patto.

With the pendant's enhancement, Anthony's charge sent Patto flying. He hit the side of the cargo hold, his neck snapping with a crack, and he slid down the wall.

Sherman had already wrapped the hard object. He stuffed it along with the bedsheet into the wooden box and stood up, taking a deep breath.

"I... I didn't mean to kill him..."

"I know, sometimes it's hard to control your strength..."

Before Sherman could finish, Patto's body twitched a few times, then staggered to his feet, his head hanging on his shoulder, blood still streaming from his eyes.

"Return it... return it... Elena... take me away... take me away..."