"Year 435, January 11th
We’ve finally arrived, blessed by the Great One. As long as we retrieve the relic, I can undergo the initiation rite and become a true servant of the Holy Master!"
These were the last entries in the diary, indicating that the captain was a follower of the Fotan cult. It was easy to deduce that before approaching Charles, the Fotan cult had sent their own believers here.
Charles had his crew search the other ships, and they found similar situations, with captains’ diaries recording their last moments of excitement.
As Charles was puzzling over the cause, the slim cook, Fry, handed him a diary.
“Captain, take a look at this one. It’s different.”
Charles took it and flipped it open, his pupils instantly narrowing. The cream-colored pages were filled with chaotic words.
“Be careful! Don’t go to the island, they’re not human! They’re going to eat us! I don’t want to be! I’m going back to the island, it’s safe there!”
The disjointed phrases indicated that the person was mentally unstable, sending chills down the spines of everyone reading the diary. They wondered what the captain had experienced.
Deep swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, as he retreated and warily looked at his companions. The diary suggested the danger came from their own people. Did that mean there were monsters among them?
Charles knew what he was thinking and tapped his head with the diary. “Don’t let your imagination run wild. We haven’t even set foot on the island yet.”
“Captain, are we still going?” Deep asked hesitantly.
“Of course we are.” Charles’ expression hardened. No matter the danger on the island, nothing could stop him from finding his way home. He would rather die trying.
The Rat slowly approached the beach, and the rusty anchor crashed into the water, the black smoke from the chimney gradually dissipating.
A wooden boat was lowered, and everyone headed towards the island.
As they neared the shadowy island, Charles opened a wooden box and distributed flintlock pistols and revolvers, with bundles of tightly wrapped explosives at the bottom.
He had specifically procured these for the mission.
With weapons in hand, everyone felt more composed.
Seven armed, sturdy men jumped off the boat and walked across the sand towards the distant forest.
The forest, if it could be called that, had not a single green leaf. The gnarled branches seemed coated with a thick layer of rust, and the trunks were tumor-like, with some parts swollen and others sunken.
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Walking through it felt like traversing the inside of a human body.
The crew knew their mission was to find a golden statue of Fotan. They searched for anything that glinted in the torchlight but found nothing.
After walking for a while, a set of scattered footprints appeared on the ground. Seeing human footprints, the group relaxed slightly. Footprints meant others had passed this way; it should be safer.
Whether they were right or not, the seven men walked for nearly two hours without any incidents.
When they gathered branches and lit a bonfire, the tense atmosphere eased a bit.
The bread toasted to a golden brown over the fire, and the crew speculated about what had happened to the missing people.
“Do you think monsters ate them? Like the things in the sea.”
“It doesn’t seem like it. Some of those ships had Fotan cult members. You know the sea creatures rarely attack them. I think there’s some danger on the island.”
Charles didn’t join the discussion. He warily scanned the surroundings. The bizarre forest was eerily quiet, devoid of any sound except for the ones they made—no insect chirps, no bird calls.
The absence of danger on the island was undoubtedly strange. He had read many explorers’ logs; no island in the Sea of Earth was safe.
The islands currently inhabited by humans were only occupied after efforts to eliminate the dangers.
Like the Coral Islands before, when humans first encountered it, they discovered the island was alive. A fleet of over twenty exploration ships engaged in a fierce battle with the massive coral, and it was said that many died before they finally managed to destroy it.
“Stop talking and finish eating. The longer we stay here, the more dangerous it becomes.”
Hearing Charles’ words, the crew ceased their chatter and began to eat more quickly, briefly restoring their strength. Charles and his group then continued on their way.
“Captain, I heard that when we return, we’ll be on a big ship, right?” Deep asked in a low voice, sidling up to Charles.
“Mm-hmm.”
“That’s great! Then I can be like the bosuns on other big ships and manage a dozen sailors. Unlike now, when I don’t even have half a sailor under me.”
Casting a glance at the enthusiastic young man, Charles’ lips curled up. Youth was indeed wonderful, always thinking towards the best outcomes.
But it was true that he should recruit more sailors upon their return. The Rat might not be large, but having no sailors at all was a bit ridiculous.
Charles and the others followed the path, which seemed to stretch on endlessly, never reaching an end.
If it weren’t for the changing footprints on the ground, Charles would have thought they were walking in place.
After nearly three hours of walking, when their feet were starting to ache, the forest suddenly cleared before them, and a stone structure entwined with brown vines appeared.
The building appeared somewhat dilapidated, and it was unclear whether it was a temple or a church. The place where a wooden door should have been was now gone, leaving only a dark opening.
Charles pulled Bandage over and pointed seriously at the structure, asking, “Is it inside there?”
Bandage hesitated before nodding, “It should be… I’m not… sure… sorry… my memory isn’t very good…”
Regardless of whether it was true or not, Charles decided to go in and take a look. At least the footprints on the ground led right to the entrance, and they weren’t chaotic, indicating that danger had not yet appeared.
He turned to his chief engineer and cook, saying, “Let’s go, the four of us will take a look inside.”
James and Fry nodded in unison, following Charles as he strode in.
The light from the torches illuminated the interior of the building. Unlike its dilapidated exterior, the inside was surprisingly clean and spacious. The smooth red floor was devoid of even a speck of dust. However, the things on the walls made the entering men’s scalps tingle.
The walls were covered with layers of bizarre reliefs, depicting grotesque creatures beyond human imagination, intertwining with each other.
They resembled hybrids of starfish and octopuses, with a single eye embedded in the center of their strange bodies.
Through their body language, they seemed to be worshiping something.
But these bizarre reliefs didn’t draw too much attention from the three men. All of them were focused on the golden statue in the center. The strange, tentacled humanoid statue was none other than the god Fotan.