Chapter 384 - 173: Aberration Without a Self...
’So, it’s not about personal immortality, but the hope that the world itself can live forever?’
’The goal of the Eternal Life Association is truly unexpected...’
But Wei’en remained skeptical. After all, based on the information he had gathered, most of the members, much like Clelia, seemed to act on a whim. Their past exploits made it hard for him to associate the Eternal Life Association with such a lofty goal.
"If the Eternal Life Association is really as you say, I’ll give it serious consideration."
’Consider what?’
’Making a tiny little contribution, of course...’
"I’m looking forward to it." Clelia gave him a meaningful look, then turned her head toward the Guards at the stern.
Wei’en gave a noncommittal nod and joined her in watching the Guards.
’I have to admit, that noble young lady has some skill... Hmm, and she gets into character quickly, too.’
"...In conclusion, the tedious and useless etiquette of the nobility is not suitable for us. Therefore, I have decided to design a set of protocols specifically for Lady Clelia—one that befits her status without completely abandoning tradition. This will showcase the unique style of our Guard!"
Although Vian wore a functional set of a Guard’s leather armor, the training she’d received since childhood made her every posture, movement, and vocal inflection incredibly charismatic.
Elegant, dignified, and composed—it was the kind of temperament that could only be cultivated by a family with a long-standing heritage.
In comparison, Clelia, the "queen," and the women from the original Storm Hunter crew who were clearly struggling to adapt to their new roles, seemed a bit...
’Well, overshadowed?’
’Yes, that’s the word!’
"What are you thinking about?" The newly-crowned, self-proclaimed queen noticed Wei’en’s almost blasphemous gaze and shot him a dark look.
"Nothing. I was just thinking they’ll be a great help to you once their strength improves." Wei’en rubbed his nose. "We’re about to make port. I’ll go check on the situation over there."
"Hmph."
Clelia clearly didn’t believe him, but she was quite satisfied with her new etiquette instructor.
’An etiquette protocol exclusively for me?’
’That sounds rather nice...’
Just then, Second Officer Ronan came jogging out and shouted up to the pair on the lookout platform, "Captain, First Officer, we’ve reached Dakman Island!"
"Tell them to hurry. This ship needs to set sail before noon!"
"Rest assured, they wouldn’t dare waste the Captain’s time!"
Ronan considered for a moment, then shouted to the surrounding pirates, "You all heard the captain’s orders, right? Pick up the pace! Anyone who hasn’t finished their task by noon can forget about getting back on this ship!"
"Yes, Captain, First Officer, Second Officer!"
The pirates on deck were buzzing with energy, carrying iron barrels for fuel and fresh water and stacking them by the ship’s rail. They were just waiting for the Steamship to come to a stop before heading ashore to procure supplies.
Once the orders were given, Wei’en turned his gaze to Dakman Island in the distance.
The coastline wasn’t long. A harbor lay ahead, where dozens of two-masted schooners and a few three-masted ships were docked.
However, their sails were furled, hiding their insignias. But one could roughly judge the identity of a ship’s owner by its figurehead.
For instance, figureheads depicting ferocious, tentacled Deep Sea abominations usually belonged to pirates, while the plain, or simply indistinct, Statues of Lady Storm generally belonged to city-state merchant vessels.
But when his Spirit sense swept over the island, the scene there made him frown.
At an intersection near the port stood more than a dozen wooden poles. Impaled on them were human corpses, which his perception revealed to be withered like dried-out husks, swaying gently in the sea breeze.
Not far behind these poles were two rows of wooden buildings. Based on the sounds coming from within, most were taverns. Perhaps because it was still early, many pirates were passed out inside, either slumped over tables or sprawled on the floor.
There were also a few weaponsmiths and ship repair shops, though their shoddy construction was obvious.
Farther in, at the very edge of what his ten-thousand-level Spirit could perceive, stood a spired building that looked like a church—and that was the source of his unease.
In a space of only two hundred square meters, corpses were stacked in layers, forming a mountain that nearly filled the church’s entire interior.
The outlines relayed to his mind showed that the dead were men and women, old and young. Most had their faces twisted into horrifying expressions, their eyes wide and stiff.
Moreover, Wei’en detected that the height of this Corpse Mountain was slowly decreasing, as if something below was devouring the bodies.
But when he tried to probe the ground beneath, he got nothing. He surmised there was an Array underneath designed to block perception.
It only blocked what was underground, leaving the pile of corpses above completely exposed for anyone to sense. ’Tsk, talk about burying your head in the sand!’
’Were they so certain no one would move against them, or was this a trap laid specifically for would-be heroes?’
His senses still focused on the church, Wei’en calmly asked, "Ronan, what’s the situation on this island?"
"The situation?" Ronan glanced uncertainly at Dakman Island. "It’s just a normal supply island. There are some original inhabitants living on it."
Clelia, who had been observing the Guards’ training, noticed the odd tone in Wei’en’s voice. A flicker of confusion crossed her face. ’Did something on that island bother him?’
She had also scanned the island moments ago but hadn’t noticed anything besides a few drunken pirates.
"Original inhabitants?" Wei’en thought of the Corpse Mountain he had just "seen." "Do they wear thick, silk robes and tie their hair up in braids?"