Reborn As a Pirate - Chapter 190

Chapter 190: Want to Keep Pushing!
As the night deepened, an unusual sight caught Ryan’s eye. Droplets of dark blue liquid began to drip from the ceiling, coalescing into a figure by the campfire. The form took shape starting with a whimsical, pointed witch’s hat, its tip twitching as if alive, begging to be touched.

Beneath the hat materialized a lithe figure, Frani, her presence marked by a serene smile. Behind her, a spectral form shimmered into view, the translucent edges glowing faintly with moonlight. Cecilia, adopting her newfound abilities from the Moon Wolf legacy, had mastered the art of melding with the nocturnal light.

Frani’s gaze lingered on Ryan, her relief palpable once she confirmed his well-being. “Mr. Ryan, I’m so glad you’re okay,” she expressed warmly.

Ryan, reassured by their composed appearances, deduced that their recent skirmishes in the underground maze had been less taxing than anticipated. “The creatures of the upper levels pose little challenge to your strengths,” he noted, acknowledging Frani and Cecilia’s prowess.

Cecilia, her voice cool yet tinged with concern, broke the calm. “Aren’t you coming back?” she inquired, her meaning clear, she was asking if Ryan intended to return to their makeshift haven by the sea-side cave.

Ryan stared contemplatively at Cecilia, whose nickname was Miss Wolf. The austere conditions of the beach cave they had been using as a refuge lingered in his mind, sand-covered floors, the constant dampness, and a relentless sea breeze that chilled to the bone. It was hardly a place anyone would choose unless necessity demanded it.

“No, this uninhabited village should serve us well as a temporary base,” he decided aloud, the flickering fire casting shadows across his determined features.

Cecilia gave a slight nod, understanding the pragmatism in his decision. The city of Santos had become a magnet, drawing most island dwellers to its bustling streets, leaving the remote beaches and villages eerily deserted.

As the fire crackled, Furenee, sitting cross-legged near Ryan, wrapped her arms around her knees, her expression serious. “Mr. Ryan, about the ‘strange feeling of uneasiness’ you mentioned in your message, what’s that about?”

Ryan exhaled deeply, the weight of his recent encounters pressing down on him. He reached into his coat and produced a small, rugged box, flipping it open to reveal its contents, a sample of soft black mud.

“These are from the site where the Hanged Man was encountered,” he explained. “Captain Freni, take a look. Does anything come to mind?”

Freni took the box cautiously, her brow furrowing as she examined the contents. She dabbed a finger lightly in the mud, thoughtful. “An altar made of bones, a black inverted cross…” she murmured, trailing off as she conducted a small experiment with the substance.

Minutes passed in tense silence before Freni snapped the box shut, her face somber. “I recall some fragments from an old miscellany, barely a book, really, with no title. It mentioned a cult, robed in black, that could transform into serpentine monsters of shadow. This cult laid waste to numerous small kingdoms, leaving nothing but ashes and despair in their wake.”

Ryan leaned forward, his gaze intense and focused as he absorbed her words. “This document, how detailed was it about this cult?”

Freni shook her head slightly. “It was vague, merely anecdotal. Penned hundreds of years ago, it recounted a traveler’s tales across the continent. Many dismissed these stories as fanciful myths. Yet, it noted that wherever this cult appeared, the land would invariably turn into a veritable purgatory.”

A heavy silence settled between them, the implications of her words hanging like a dark cloud. Ryan’s eyes darkened with concern. If these tales were merely legends, it would be one thing. But if they bore any connection to the sinister Hanged Man they had encountered, the stakes were far higher.

The eerie resilience of the black mud, the sinister echoes of the past, and the Hanged Man’s chilling powers, all these elements wove a tapestry of foreboding that Ryan could not ignore. His instincts, honed through countless encounters with the arcane, sensed a deeper menace at play.

“Though the Hanged Man is defeated, there’s a lingering shadow over my heart,” Ryan confessed, his voice low. “It’s as if we’re on the edge of something vast and ominous.”

He glanced at Freni and Cecilia, reassured by their presence yet burdened by the potential threat. “We’re away from the epicenter of whatever’s brewing. Worst comes to worst, we can always commandeer a pirate ship and escape to the high seas.”

Their laughter mingled with the crackle of the fire, a brief respite from the darkness encroaching upon their world.

In the hush of the evening, as the last embers of the campfire flickered, Ryan allowed himself a moment of respite, though his mind remained tangled with threads of unfinished mysteries.

“I see. Unfortunately, that’s all we know for now,” he sighed, his voice a soft echo in the quiet of the wooden house. Turning to his companions, he added, “Let’s rest up for tonight, Captain, Miss Cecilia. You both have pushed yourselves hard in the dungeon labyrinth today.”

“You should get some sleep too, Ryan,” Frani responded gently, her voice tinged with concern. She knew that his journey following the mysterious leads of the “Overthrow Temple” had been more than physically draining, it was a mental ordeal that even bystanders would find harrowing.

“Yes sure,” Ryan nodded, rising to his feet. “I’ve tidied up this cabin for you. I’ll take the one next door. Just call if you need anything.”

As Ryan disappeared around the corner, Frani watched him go, a mix of admiration and worry flickering in her eyes. When she had first enlisted Ryan as a navigator, she never imagined that he would evolve from a mere guide into a cornerstone of their team. His growth was a testament to their shared trials and triumphs.

“I want to continue growing too… just need to keep pushing,” she whispered to herself, a silent vow echoing in the stillness of the room.

…

Ryan made his way to the neighboring cabin, quickly setting it in order. From his magical space ring, he pulled out a small raft, his usual makeshift bed, finding comfort in the familiar despite the unconventional setting.

Chuckling at his peculiar preference, he settled onto the raft, eyes on the dark ceiling as he awaited midnight. Once the cooldown of the [Nameless Ship Sculpture]’s “Travel Function” ended, Ryan closed his eyes, a whispered command barely leaving his lips: “Travel, start!”