Chapter 1 A Shadow in the Darkness

A shadow shrouded in darkness, a warship that seemed to be pieced together from smoke, mist, and various wreckage, was accompanying the White Oak, charging towards the Albatross in the distance—within the mist-covered silhouette of the ship, one could vaguely make out its similarities to the White Oak, hinting at a shared origin.

It was different from what he remembered, but Lawrence recognized it immediately—even though it now looked dilapidated, twisted, and bizarre, it still stirred his memories as it did in every dream.

It was the Black Oak. It was there, sailing alongside the White Oak, just like the last time they sailed out of port together in his memory.

A loud whistle suddenly cut through the old captain's bewilderment and reverie. The whistle came from the phantom-like ship, as if to remind Lawrence that this was not the time to be lost in thought.

Whistling cannonballs fell from the sky. The Albatross's bombardment was relentless. Lawrence abruptly turned around and saw a fireball strike the bow of the White Oak.

Flames erupted there, but were instantly assimilated and absorbed by the ship's raging green flames. A section of the bow was torn to shreds, and scorching metal fragments scattered everywhere—yet in the next second, the damaged structure began to revert as if time were flowing backwards, and it was restored to its original state amid the rising green flames.

Lawrence felt something "leaking away," as if stamina and life were being drained from his "perception," but that loss was quickly replenished from the blazing spiritual flames surging from all directions. Immediately afterwards, the White Oak's bow and broadside defensive cannons roared to life, each cannonball like an enraged spirit, emitting a chilling screech as it left the barrel, tracing a ghostly green streak through the air. Almost simultaneously, the "Black Oak" beside them began to attack as well—with the roar of cannons, flashes of light erupted one after another from the rising black mist, and illusory cannonballs shot out of the mist, plummeting towards the distant enemy ship.

Lawrence gripped the helm tightly, feeling the powerful tremors that ran through the ship with each cannon blast. He felt his perception spreading further, even along the flying cannonballs, along the surging seawater, permeating the entire sea area. And at the edge of his perception, the Albatross was like a bonfire in the night, exuding an intense, almost blinding… presence.

Not long ago, it had been a hopeless opponent for the White Oak, but at this moment, Lawrence only felt that the prey was so delicious... appetizing.

A moment later, the White Oak's retaliatory fire finally landed squarely on the Albatross for the first time. With a tremendous explosion and flames, the bizarre warship seemed to have a chunk "gouged" out of it by some invisible giant mouth. Within the huge, swallowed-up wound, the ship's bizarre, twisted internal structure was clearly visible.

The attack was effective, but far from enough.

"Full speed," Lawrence said, gripping the helm tightly, his eyes fixed on the enemy ship that was still approaching. He already knew what he had to do—or rather, what the White Oak needed at this moment. "We need replenishment."

First Mate Gus's voice rang out on the bridge, "Aye, full speed!"

The steam core roared even louder. The already high-speed White Oak further pushed its speed to the limit, beginning to swoop towards the distant Albatross like a swift falcon. The Black Oak continued to accompany it like a reflection, maintaining the same speed and heading.

The Albatross in the distance showed no sign of changing course or slowing down to evade. The ship, which had launched a blind attack from the moment it appeared, was like a mindless, out-of-control beast. Even after the White Oak had undergone a tremendous transformation and its own battle situation had turned unfavorable, it was still faithfully executing its initial objective: attacking the enemy.

Two ships, one enveloped in ghostly green flames, the other covered in the twisted, dark, bizarre structure, simultaneously launched a full-speed charge towards each other—the ear-splitting and horrifying whistle nearly tore the sky, and the increasingly dense cannon fire of the two ships shook the entire ocean. The distance between them grew shorter and shorter, and almost all of the cannonballs fired at each other landed on the other's hull. Massive explosions ripped through the ships, and scorching, burning fragments splashed into the sea and sky!

On the bridge of the White Oak, Lawrence was just staring intently ahead. Everyone was staring in the same direction as him. The minds of all the sailors seemed to be gripped tightly by something. Every living thing on this ship suddenly had no fear, no hesitation, only a fervent anticipation of the imminent, inevitable collision—then, the two ships finally touched.

Like a loose snowball being pressed hard against the scorching outer wall of a furnace, the bow of the Albatross plunged straight into the White Oak's surrounding, raging spiritual flames. With an ear-piercing noise and a roar like ten thousand people shouting in unison, the seemingly solid steel hull melted inch by inch in the green flames. As the "impact" continued, the Albatross began to disappear from head to toe into the depths of that wall of fire. This scene looked… as if it were being completely devoured.

And until the last turret on the stern of the Albatross was devoured by the spiritual flames, the fierce exchange of fire between the two ships never ceased for a moment.

Then, it was finally over.

The White Oak's defensive cannons finally stopped roaring. After the enemy disappeared, the roar of the steam core gradually subsided, and the spiritual flames that had been rising all over the ship slowly retracted, becoming gentle from their initial aggressive posture, and began to burn quietly against the hull.

Lawrence was momentarily dazed. His hands had left the helm at some point. He raised his head and surveyed the scene on the bridge.

The sailors were all turning to look at him, each one appearing ghostly due to being wreathed in spiritual energy. In their hollow eyes, it seemed that there was no longer any human reason or humanity left.

Lawrence blinked, but just before the confusion in his mind was about to completely devour him, he suddenly caught sight of a figure out of the corner of his eye.

It was a young man. He appeared out of thin air, stepping over the surrounding rising spiritual flames. He wore the deep blue robes of a Deep Sea Church priest, and the holy emblem on his chest released a blazing light as if it were burning. He strode over, grabbed the burning holy emblem at his chest, and slammed it hard against Lawrence's chest.

A burning sensation spread from his chest. Lawrence felt his wavering mind suddenly stabilize, and humanity and reason returned to his soul at the same time.

As the captain regained his senses, the sailors on the ship also woke up one by one. People looked at each other, as if only now recalling the end of that battle, recalling the scene of the White Oak and the Albatross's final confrontation and "collision." Some cried out in fear, some subconsciously checked their bodies, and still others raised their heads, focusing their gaze on the young cleric who had suddenly appeared on the bridge.

Lawrence frowned, looked at the young man in front of him for a long time, and finally hesitantly spoke, "Priest… Jensen?"

"It's me. Thank God, you can finally see me," the young ship's priest said, gasping for breath. He looked as if he had just crawled out of the sea, his robes were soaked, and streams of water flowed down his hair and neck as he spoke. "Thank the Storm Lord for his protection—I've been shouting at you for days."

Lawrence still felt that his mind was a bit unclear. It took him several seconds to gradually recall another incongruity from the past few days—

There should be a ship's priest on board, just as there should be a sun in the sky, but he had not seen the young priest during this time.

Priest Jensen had disappeared from everyone's sight, even from everyone's memory—to the point that people had even forgotten the common knowledge that "there should be a ship's priest on board."

Lawrence noticed the anomaly of the sun disappearing, but only now realized that Priest Jensen had also disappeared along with it.

“…What happened?”

The old captain, as if waking from a dream, slowly turned his head and asked in a low voice.

"I don't know. In the past few days, I seemed to have been separated from you into two dimensions," the young priest, soaked to the bone, shook his head with a wry smile. "I could see you, but no one could see me, as if I had become an 'outsider' on the ship… Until just now… the entire ship changed in the flames, and I felt that this separation was loosening. At the same time, I noticed that your mental state was not right, so I wanted to use the holy emblem to stabilize your reason—thankfully, this last step was finally in time…"

Lawrence listened to the priest's account, his mind filled with a jumble of thoughts and guesses one after another. When he heard the other party mention the words "mental state was not right," a belated fear finally appeared in his heart.

He recalled the strange state that he and the other crew members had been in during the last few minutes of the battle with the Albatross, and a cold sweat seemed about to seep out of his back.

But he had no cold sweat—he was still enveloped in spiritual flames, and there was no sign of this ghostly body recovering.

Lawrence lowered his head, looking at his arm, which was still in a illusory spiritual state, and had a lot of guesses in his heart.

"The 'favor' from the Forsaken Frigate, huh…" The old captain shook his head with a wry smile, unsure whether to call it a blessing or a curse. "Bearing Duncan Abnormaal's gaze is indeed not a simple thing, but at least we survived… if this is truly the state of a living person…"

As he spoke, he slowly raised his head again, looking out through the porthole not far away, at the sea beside them.

The ship shrouded in mist and shadows was still quietly staying there, like the White Oak's shadow.