One sunny afternoon, Bruce strolled through the park, watching families enjoying their time together. His heart warmed at the sight, and his infectious laughter filled the air. Passersby noticed him, smiling and laughing, as he observed the children playing. Although some found his laughter a bit eccentric, they appreciated the joy he brought to their lives.

An elderly lady called him over with a frail hand. "Bruce, come here."

Bruce responded with a cheerful grin, "Hey there, Grandma! Your legs don't work like you used to before, huh?"

The old lady chuckled at his familiar jest. "You never change, do you? Help me cross the road. My old legs can't carry me anymore."

Bruce nodded knowingly, "You're pretty old now. It's not safe to wander alone. Where are your grandchildren?"

The old lady playfully tapped him on the head, "You are my grandchild, you rascal!"

Bruce teased her, "Nope, you're mistaken, Grandma. My real Grandma doesn't play 'whack the head' when she's upset."

The old lady retorted with a grin, "Don't test me, boy. Even with arthritis, I can still give you a good scolding."

Bruce chuckled, "Alright, alright, Grandma. Let's get you home."

They slowly made their way across the road, with Bruce offering his support by holding the old lady's elbow. As they crossed, memories of their time together flowed between them.

"You know, I remember when you were just a little child," the old lady reminisced. "You'd hold my hand with those tiny fingers while crossing the street, greeting everyone with a cheerful 'hello,' and your face would light up when they smiled back at you. You were such a cutie."

Bruce grinned, "I still do that, you know. But these days, everyone thinks I'm hitting on them or something. I remember doing it to a girl in a school uniform once, and she called me a creep, even called the cops on me. Thankfully, the officer who arrived knew me and apologized on my behalf. So, I'm more careful now."

The old lady erupted into laughter, "Oh, Bruce, you always did have a way with words."

Bruce, somewhat puzzled by her amusement, said, "No, really, it's true. I'm not kidding."

Amid her laughter, the old lady managed to say, "You always were a character."

A sharply dressed man approached them, bowing politely to the old lady, "Madam, the young mistress is worried. She'd like you to return home."

The old lady nodded and began heading toward the waiting car, waving goodbye to Bruce.

Bruce waved back, "Catch you on the flip side, Grandma."

As the old lady's car drove away, Bruce headed in the opposite direction. He noticed a familiar face - the girl who had once called the police on him for his friendly greetings. To avoid an awkward encounter, he turned his head and began to whistle.

But fate had other plans. As they approached each other, Bruce pretended not to notice her. He moved to the side, trying to stay out of her line of sight. He heaved a sigh of relief, believing he'd succeeded.

Then, out of nowhere, a piece of gum stuck to the sole of his shoe. Irritated, he muttered, "Who leaves gum like this lying around? People have no manners, just spitting their gum on the streets. Tsk."

Bruce retrieved a piece of paper from a nearby trash bin and managed to scrape the gum off his shoe. As he disposed of it properly, he couldn't help but notice a commotion - a truck was blaring its horn loudly, and the driver was shouting, "I've lost my brakes! Get out of the way!"

Bruce was far from the truck's path and didn't need to move, but he saw the same girl from earlier attempting to cross the road. Fear gripped her, and she stood frozen in her tracks.

Instinct took over, and Bruce dashed toward the girl. He couldn't explain why he was doing it, but his body moved without conscious thought. Was he trying to save her?

Bruce leaped, pushing the girl to safety just as the truck bore down on them. But instead of avoiding the danger himself, he became the target. The truck struck Bruce with a bone-crushing impact.

Bruce clutched his head in disbelief, his hand coming away with blood. "Oh no, I can't feel my legs. Is this payback for teasing Grandma earlier?" Bruce mumbled, attempting to crane his neck to catch a glimpse of the girl he'd heroically rescued. "Well, I suppose this is how I'll meet my end – a heroic virgin. But hey, I did save a life. Maybe God's taking notes and will reward me in heaven. No regrets, though I hope my family won't cry too much. I want them to smile and say goodbye. Yep, this is it; my eyes are getting heavy. Goodbye, Mom, goodbye, Dad. Thanks for everything."

News of Bruce's accident spread rapidly, prompting a flurry of ambulances and police vehicles to rush to the scene. One of the police officers recognized Bruce and promptly called his family.

John and Sarah Miller, Bruce's parents, arrived at the scene in a state of panic, unable to comprehend what had happened to their only son. Sarah was in shock and broke into tears, ultimately losing consciousness. John Miller shook his head, grappling with confusion over what to do. Tears streamed down his face as he gazed up at the sky. "Please, give him another chance. He's such a kind boy. This is the last wish I'll make," he murmured before embracing his wife and bidding a final farewell to his beloved son.

"I'm sorry, ma'am/sir, but due to severe blood loss and multiple fractures, we were unable to save him," the paramedic sadly reported.

In the following days, the news of Bruce's passing cast a pall of sadness over the entire town. Known for his cheerful and kind-hearted nature, Bruce had touched the lives of many with his warm greetings and willingness to help.

"My Lord, the resistance is attempting to obstruct our progress again. We've suffered considerable damage, and we've lost several men in action," reported a woman with battle scars stretching from her eyes down to her jawline. Her eyes had an eerie shade of purple, and she was clad in knight's armor.

"I am aware. Sometimes, sacrifices must be made for a greater cause," replied a man seated on a grand chair, his hand resting on his face as he contemplated something profound.

Another man stepped forward urgently, "My Lord, we must pursue them relentlessly. While they may currently be mere rats scurrying from a cat, they could become a significant threat if left unchecked."

A knight rushed into the hall, exclaiming, "My Lord! My Lord! We've captured him!" He held up a sack triumphantly.

The man seated in the grand chair erupted in laughter. "As I said, for a greater cause, sacrifices must be made."

The woman interjected, "Don't tell me..."

"My Lord! This is the head of the resistance leader, just as you instructed. Their hideouts were revealed, and we got him, my Lord! He's been eliminated! Praise Emperor Malachi!"

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The people who witnessed the severed head in the sack were both shocked and relieved. It was undeniable—the leader of the resistance had met his demise. Applause and praise for Emperor Malachi echoed through the crowd as they celebrated the success of their leader's plans.

As Bruce regained consciousness, he panicked and shouted, "WOOOOOOOAAAAAHHHHHHH!" as he felt himself falling from the sky. He plunged into the water, losing consciousness once more. As his awareness faded, he saw a net approaching him. Summoning the last of his energy, he grabbed onto the net, which started pulling him to the surface. Bruce drank in salty water and began coughing. As he caught his breath, he started to notice something odd.

Confusion washed over him. He distinctly remembered saving a girl, being struck by a truck, and dying. He knew he had died. So why was he now falling from the sky, ending up in the water, and then aboard a ship?

"HOLY SHIT! WHERE AM I?" Bruce shouted.

"Hey, you! Shut your mouth and start cleaning!" a man with an eye patch barked, pointing at Bruce.

Bruce was bewildered. "Me?"

"Who else, you imbecile?" the eye-patched man retorted.

Bruce, unsure of what to do, grabbed hold of something and pretended to clean. As he helped clean, he noticed that the ship had sustained damage, likely from a cannonball. Many people on the ship were injured.

"Holy shit, is this some kind of movie or something? I know this isn't heaven," Bruce muttered to himself, keeping up the pretense of cleaning.

Bruce realized he needed to blend in and gather information while the ship's crew remained busy, unaware of his presence.

"I'm good at trying to be an impostor. I've played a lot of games, you know, like 'Among Us.' Good luck finding me," Bruce thought, smiling mischievously to himself.

"Hey, you! Who are you? I haven't seen you on this ship before!" a man shouted, pointing at Bruce.

People turned their attention toward Bruce, becoming cautious and ready to confront him if he made any suspicious moves.

'The hell, I was just saying I'm good at playing as an impostor, and now they've already noticed me. This isn't good,' Bruce thought.

"I noticed him smiling creepily! It's like he's planning something! He's not part of this crew! He's a navy soldier of the empire!" the man exclaimed.

"No, I am not!" Bruce protested.

They swarmed Bruce, tying him up.

"Believe me, I am not!" Bruce pleaded and reasoned that he wasn't a navy soldier or anything like that. "I don't even know where I am!" He struggled against the tight ropes.

A woman dressed in a cloak, her face concealed, walked toward Bruce.

"Tell me your name," she asked.

"My name is Bruce," he replied.

"That's an unusual name. How did you get here?"

"I promise I'm not a soldier or anything you're talking about," Bruce tried to reason again.

"I know," the woman said, "but that doesn't mean you're not here to hurt us. I heard that you were smiling. Who in their right mind smiles in this chaos? Now, tell me who you are. Are you an assassin sent by the empire to kill me?"

"Woah... Woah... Woah... Don't try to make me a bad man, woman! I don't even know who you are! I'm confused too about why I'm here on this ship. So please, before I wet my pants, release me from this rope."

A man wearing a cloak, standing behind the woman, pulled Bruce. "You piece of shit! You don't know how to respect."

Bruce smiled, but his eyes were serious, sending conflicting signals.

Bruce realized that if he mentioned falling from the skies and landing in the water, nobody would believe him, and it would create problems. Trapped and unable to move due to the tight ropes, he knew he had to deescalate the situation. 'It's now or never,' Bruce thought.

"Holy fuck! He pissed himself and he's unconscious!" the man in the robe exclaimed, surprised. "Princess, I will kill this man; just give the word!"

"No, forget it. We're not savages. He doesn't bear the mark of a soldier from the empire, and judging by his appearance, he's not an assassin," the princess declared.

Bruce secretly breathed a sigh of relief as he overheard the princess's words. He continued to feign unconsciousness until he drifted off to sleep.

Time passed, and evening descended over the unfamiliar surroundings. Bruce could feel the gentle sea breeze and the crisp scent of fresh air. It was serene, but something was off—the absence of voices or any signs of life was eerie.

"This is creepy. I don't hear any voices," Bruce mused aloud.

Slowly, he opened his eyes, uncertain of what to expect. His initial thought was that he might have gone blind. Yet, as he scanned his surroundings, all he could see was the soft illumination of the moon and stars.

"Oh, it's nighttime," Bruce muttered to himself. "They're probably sleeping."

Bruce's body ached from the ordeal of being tied up for an extended period. He attempted to move, testing the tightness of the ropes that bound him. His searching fingers sought an object to free himself but found nothing in the darkness, illuminated only by the moon and stars.

"Shit. I smell like piss. I need to get out now," Bruce exclaimed, unable to ignore the discomfort.

"Shhhhh..."

A hushed voice startled Bruce, nearly prompting him to shout again. He swiftly lowered his voice.

"Don't talk; we're in their territory. Don't make any noise," warned a man who had silently appeared nearby.

"What do you mean?" Bruce inquired, his skepticism evident.

"We're in Siren's Cove," the man replied.

"Siren's Cove? Sirens? Like mermaids?" Bruce raised an incredulous eyebrow. "So, what happens if I make noise?" he asked, half-mocking.

"We're all dead," the man emphasized.

"Okay, so... IF I SHOUT, WE ARE ALL DEAD?" Bruce playfully imitated the man, making a noise.

"Shut... up.... Are you trying to get us all killed?" the man hissed.

"Release me," Bruce demanded, his tone serious. "Or else we're all going to die."

Without hesitation, the man released Bruce from his bindings. He retrieved a knife from his pocket and cut Bruce free, then guided him silently into the ship, leading him toward the captain's quarters.

"Are you really out of your mind?" the man questioned.

"No, I'm just hungry. So, give me some food," Bruce replied with a smirk.

The man quickly procured some leftover bread and a glass of water, handing it to Bruce.

"No spread?" Bruce quipped. "So, what's the deal with this place?"

"Change your pants first; you reek of piss," the man teased.

While Bruce changed his pants, the man began recounting the tale of Siren's Cove and its perils.

In the distant past, there was a legendary pirate named Captain Morgan, known for his unbeaten record in battles against empires, sea monsters, and famous figures. He was the Pirate King, amassing wealth that rivaled small kingdoms. Unlike typical pirates, he didn't plunder or harm. Instead, he helped remote villages in exchange for supplies.

Bruce interrupted, asking about the connection to Captain Morgan and Siren's Cove.

Captain Morgan grew arrogant, believing he could conquer any challenge. The only place that stood in his way was the perilous Suicide Cove, where ships vanished. He thought his talisman made him invincible from the voices, but it couldn't save his crew. On one fateful day, everyone perished, except for Captain Morgan himself.

"So, voices, huh? Sirens, it was," Bruce mused.

"No one really knows, not even Captain Morgan," the man replied.

Curiosity piqued, Bruce inquired, "So, how did you come to know this story?"

"I've been at sea my whole life, kid. Everyone's heard the tale. I was surprised you hadn't, but maybe that's because you're one of them?" the man speculated.

"What? No, I'm not from the Empire," Bruce asserted.

The man clarified, "I know that. I was referring to the sky people."

"The sky People? First, you made me out to be a soldier of the Empire, then an assassin, and now a sky person? What's going on here?" Bruce protested, his frustration evident.

"I'm the one who tossed you that rope when you were falling from the sky," the man confessed.

"Really? You didn't say a word when they were tying me up? You old grump," Bruce retorted, arching an eyebrow at him. "And what's this about sky people?"

The man backtracked, saying, "Ah, don't mind that last part; I was just messing with you. Go back to sleep now. You can sleep just about anywhere."

Bruce persisted, asking about the Siren's Cove, "What about the Siren's Cove?"

"We're already clear of it. No need to worry; we didn't venture inside, just stayed close by," the man reassured him with a sly grin.

As Bruce reclined to rest, questions swirled in his mind. His bizarre journey from saving a girl from a truck collision to being aboard a mysterious ship had only become more enigmatic. The mention of Siren's Cove, the Pirate King, and the sky people had added layers of intrigue to his already perplexing predicament.