The clown mask rolled into the woods. Three seconds later, the entire camp was in an uproar.
"Oh, my Lady! The Captain's mask is actually alive!"
"Sh-should we retreat...?"
"Mr. Charles, can I crawl into your pocket? I'm a little scared."
"SILENCE!" Charles's voice overpowered everything. He watched his crew with furrowed brows. "What's all the fuss about? It's just a moving mask. After so many adventures, a small thing like this scares you?!"
Seeing the chatter die down, Charles checked his watch. With a cold expression, he announced, "Break's over! We're moving out!"
The quieted crew no longer objected, following their Captain forward. Although they said nothing, their expressions were clearly tense, and their grips on their weapons tightened.
Meanwhile, standing at the head of the group, Charles pondered the same question as his crew: why had 096 suddenly come to life?
The mask had been in his possession for some time, and he had worn it countless times without it ever showing any sign of being alive.
Could it be because of this island? Does it have some kind of connection to it? Thinking this, Charles peered into the darkness between the trees, but he could glean no information.
If you ask me, this is a good thing, Richard interjected in his mind. The stranger the place, the greater the rewards. A place with no danger, on the other hand, offers no benefits at all.
Charles didn't respond. Instead, he turned to the Doctor, who was being supported by Deep and Frey. "How are you doing, Doctor? Is your wound alright?"
"Hmph. If you really cared about me, you would have let me stay on the ship," the Doctor grumbled, pulling out a metal flask and taking a large gulp. "When we made our agreement, you never said anything about me having to explore islands."
Seeing his confident demeanor, Charles figured the injury must not be too serious.
As the group moved forward, the environment began to change. The trees, which they had been forced to clear a path through, grew shorter. Beyond the woods lay a large, overgrown field of ruins.
The ruins were vast, covering an area the size of a small town. The vine-covered remnants of walls and buildings lent the scene a desolate air.
The crew could only see the section of ruins illuminated by their torchlight. But Charles, with his night vision, saw much more. In the darkness, the collapsed structures resembled crouching spiders, their gazes fixed on the intruders.
No matter how glorious this place might have been in the past, all traces of humanity were now slowly being reclaimed by the weeds and trees.
Charles paused for a moment before continuing onward. Whoever the owners of these ruins were, time had swept everything away.
"I think I hear water. Do you hear it?" Charles suddenly asked, but seeing the puzzled looks on his crew's faces, he said no more and kept walking.
"Mr. Charles! There really is water! My friend and I can smell it!" Lily scurried onto Charles's shoulder, twitching her small nose. "And it's freshwater!"
Upon hearing the word "freshwater," all the crew members grew excited, understanding the significance of this discovery.
Charles followed the ever-loudening sound of water. Soon, in the center of the ruins, he came upon a pile of ancient machinery caked with red rust. The sound was coming from beneath it.
"Give me the explosives."
BOOM! The blast blew the corroded machinery apart. Everyone crowded around, peering into the dark hole underneath. A torch was tossed in, and as it tumbled down, it illuminated a flowing underground river.
After Deep eagerly drank a mouthful of the drawn water, his expression turned ecstatic. "Captain! It's freshwater! This island is a habitable Living Island!"
Hearing this news, the crew erupted into cheers of excitement. Their fiery passion seemed to push back the surrounding darkness.
They had forsaken the stability of a normal life, joining the Exploration Ship and risking their lives, all for this very day.
Discovering a new island meant the Captain could become a Governor, and every crew member would be elevated in status. They would no longer have to go to sea but would become part of the upper class, just like the nobility who lived at the island's center.
Charles, however, was not as excited. His goals were different from his crew's; finding a Living Island was merely incidental.
Seeing them so ecstatic, Charles decided to let them rest first. They needed to calm down before they continued their journey. Although high morale was a good thing, an overly excited crew could easily make mistakes.
A bonfire was lit in a corner formed by two barely intact walls.
The thrilled crew couldn't sleep, all of them lost in dreams of the better lives that awaited them. Eventually, Charles had the Doctor put a sedative in the drinks to make sure the crew members who weren't on watch fell asleep.
Charles himself was not a good sleeper. After taking some of the Doctor's medicine, he too drifted off into dreamland.
He didn't know how much time had passed when an odd noise startled him awake.
HISS...
The sound was like gas escaping a canister.
HISS...
The same sound came again.
His mind snapping into full alert, Charles's entire body tensed. That wasn't just any noise. It was the sound of a human windpipe being sliced open.
Charles sprang to his feet and immediately saw a gaunt figure raising a rusted blade toward James.
Hearing the movement behind it, the figure spun its head around. In the flickering firelight, the pale, red-nosed face of 096 appeared before Charles.
Almost reflexively, Charles raised his gun and fired, emptying the entire magazine into the host's body.
The slight figure staggered backward from the impact of the bullets. But as soon as the gunfire stopped, it dropped to all fours and sprinted away like a cheetah toward the darkness.
"Deep! Get the Doctor to save him!" Charles yelled, kicking the groggy sailor chief who was scratching his neck. He then charged out, wielding Black Blade.
Watching the retreating figure, Charles's expression turned grave. Whatever had brought 096 to life, it clearly held a grudge against them. It had to be eliminated, or it would undoubtedly return.
Two figures dashed swiftly through the overgrown ruins, treating terrain no normal person could stand on as if it were flat ground. To any onlooker, it would have been a spectacular parkour performance.
Richard, whose body is 096 using now? How can it run so fast after being shot in the chest?
Don't ask me. That old man's medicine knocked me out, too.
The two were evenly matched, neither able to outrun the other. Reaching the edge of the woods, 096 plunged inside without hesitation.
Charles gritted his teeth and instantly followed.