Chương 20

It didn't take a detective class to understand these bones were the remains of all the crew on board the vessel. On top of them all was a ruby pendant. Touch of the Undying. The treasure of Captain Kent Buckingham. A gift that promised an eternity. Value - 5, 500 Mel Oliver's eyes went wide at that last line of his Appraisal. In all his years robbing graves, not once had he come across something even a third as valuable as the pendant in front of him.

He reached out to snatch it up for himself, but then stopped himself. He took a deep sigh. This was a trap. He'd seen similar tricks dozens of times throughout his life in the Nightmare Biome. Dangle a cursed pendant in front of a greedy victim. Then the unsuspecting soul would be stuck living the rest of eternity as a phantom slave. It's likely that was how Captain Kent amassed such a large crew.

This ship couldn't reasonably store the quantity of living beings the captain commanded, which implied another method of recruiting. With great difficulty, Oliver withdrew his outstretched hand. The noise of battle from outside had completely stopped. The chill inside the ship had descended into an outright freezing temperature. The ghosts were closing in on him.

"Get back here and face me!" Kiki yelled.

"Cowards!"

"Time to dispose of these bones," Oliver muttered. The faster, the better. He quickly pulled the fire wand out of his bag and tossed it on the old nets he'd piled up. Next, he got out the cybernetic hand he'd severed from the officer back in Neo Nova City. It glowed for a second as Oliver activated it, then a blade of energy appeared from the palm. Oliver stabbed it down into the ship's hull. It pierced through with ease and the sea water underneath hissed as it connected with the weapon's heat.

He sliced in a circle first, tearing a hole in the bottom of the ship, then ripped the blade forward. That same movement sliced through more than just old wood, it split the fire wand in half. The severed wand exploded with more power than he expected, knocking him off his feet and toppling him over a crate. When he righted himself, he found the cybernetic gauntlet's blade had deactivated automatically after it left his grip. Thankfully, that didn't matter. Flames devoured the center of the cargo hull.

Rapidly increasing in size as it consumed more of the wood.

"Rat!" the captain bellowed. He now stood, blocking Oliver's exit. His form flickered in the firelight. His eyes were orbs of utter darkness as they locked onto Oliver. Likely, there was some skill at play with those eyes, but Oliver had no intention of learning about it.

"Oh? So you can speak?" Oliver asked.

"Thought you were all mute."

"Die!" The captain charged forward at an alarming speed, barrels and crates smashed and flew to the side as he tore through them all in a direct path to Oliver. Oliver spun his iron shovel and met the cutlass's blade with his weapon's shaft. The power of the attack might have knocked him over just a few levels earlier. But his additional Strength kept him on his feet. Oliver shoved the blade back and used the momentum of his push for a strike at the captain's head. All he managed was a slight graze.

Not enough for any real damage, especially while wielding an iron weapon instead of his silver one. Still, that didn't stop the attack from stoking the captain's fury. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

"You believe one as you can stand in my way? I am Captain Kent Buckingham! Terror and thousand-time widowmaker!" the ghostly captain roared. Now knee deep in sea water, Oliver deftly side-stepped another of the captain's strikes and maneuvered himself back, putting a little distance between them. Then, instead of initiating another direct attack, Oliver struck at the water. The flat of his shovel sent a wave of sea water at the captain. It splashed over the ghost and it howled.

His outraged scream mixed with the hiss of nearby flames.

"I was curious about that. Seems pretty fucking dumb for you to live on a boat that's over salt water. I thought you might have some unique resistance to the water. But no, you're just a dumb fuck." Despite his taunting, Oliver could tell the deluded salt only caused pain. It didn't directly repel, or better, dispel the spirits. It needed to be more condensed for any real results. Still, it could be used.

Fire roared all around them, the other ghosts were attempting to put out the flames, but it was a losing battle. The ship was sinking. And the hull had transformed into an oven. The captain edged around the flames. While he clearly wanted to slay Oliver, he also was attempting to put himself between Oliver and the crate of bones. That split focus was ideal. If Oliver was a betting man, he'd guess the captain cared far more for the safety of those bones than he did for murdering the trespassing mortal.

Oliver tasted salt on his lips. From the sea or his sweat, he couldn't say. He fired his blunderbuss. Even after the pain inflicted by the salt water attack, the captain's ghostly cutlass met the bullet midair and chopped it down. But Oliver expected as much. At the moment he didn't need to fight the spirits further. Their ship wouldn't be able to recover from his damage. Now waist deep in water, Oliver took a deep breath, the air scorching his throat, then plunged down.

He pushed off a nearby barrel, propelling himself towards the hole he'd created with the cybernetic blade. He slipped through while narrowly dodging the captain's cutlass. His eyes stung as he kept them open under the water. He scanned the seabed. Immediately after exiting the hull's breach, Oliver realized his mistake. They were still in the shallows. The ship would sink, yes, but the true underwater cliff was still ten feet off.

At best, the ship might settle with a bit of it overhanging, but it wasn't likely to fully disappear into the depths. The ghosts would still have access to the island at that distance. It had been a gamble. One that hadn't paid off. Oliver desperately tried to think up a solution. None of his equipment or skills were suited for shoving aside the sinking ship. He had decent Strength, but not nearly enough for a task like this.

If they moved fast, he and Kiki might be able to cross the island and swim outside their range? They only needed to reach Ben's next drone. The ship would be immobile now so they couldn't pursue them after a certain distance. Of course, there were other threats in the sea. It would be difficult, but not entirely impossible. Interrupting his rapid thoughts, from the dark depths of the sea, a spear whizzed by, embedding itself in the side of the ship.

Oliver stared at it dumbly for a second, trying to process what it was. There was a cord, maybe two fingers thick, connecting the spear to something in the depths under him. The cord went taunt and the ghost ship groaned. Slowly, but still before it could settle on the reef below it, the ship was dragged off to the side of the underwater cliff. Oliver watched with stunned fascination as the ghost ship slammed into the ground right on the edge of the steep slope down into darkness.

For a moment everything remained perfectly still. Then the ship teetered, and descended below. Phantom crew members tore through the salt water in the ship's wake, clawing and thrashing. They screamed in pain as their mortal remains stored within the sinking ship dragged them down. Oliver watched as several of the phantoms ripped themselves apart, oozing into ectoplasm and fading into the sea. After a few more seconds, the ship and ghosts alike disappeared from sight. Silence. Congratulations!

You have defeated Pirate Captain Kent Buckingham, level 63. You have been awarded [250] Mel. That notification was followed up by a dozen more for the rest of the crew. And finally a level up notification, he'd reached 54. He immediately stuck his free points in strength. He needed quite a bit more to reach the ten point threshold, but better to get started now. The last thing Oliver saw as he desperately swam upward, eager for an oxygen rich surface, was the blurry figure of a man far below, waving at him.