Industrial Cthulhu: Starting as an Island Lord
Chapter 219: Out of Control

Hughes explored his surroundings briefly and quickly realized that he was on a ship, which struck him as odd.

The sea near Castel was already filled with monsters, and Hughes estimated that the Empire was likely engaged in battle with the murlocs by now.

But this ship… it didn’t look like it was in the middle of a war.

Gazing at the calm and tranquil sea outside, Hughes was puzzled.

Why was the sea so normal?

Where were the monsters? The contamination? The sea serpents?

Could this not be the Storm Ocean?

Hughes had heard Connor mention before that if one traveled south past the Eye of the Storm, they would reach the land known as the Southern Continent.

East of the Southern Continent lay a narrow strip of land called the Corridor of Despair.

Connor had worked as a sailor there in his youth and had described it as a place of perpetual calm.

Had he arrived in the Lightless Sea?

He couldn’t have traveled through time and space again, could he?

Hughes sighed and decided to investigate.

After searching the cabin briefly, Hughes quickly realized something was off.

He pulled a box off a shelf and opened it, revealing small blocks wrapped in oiled paper, exuding a rich fragrance.

"This looks really familiar."

Unwrapping one and touching it, Hughes’ expression grew complicated.

"It’s soap… and it’s Castel-made. Could this ship be the Black Pearl?"

He tested the door and found it unlocked.

It seemed this was just a storage area, and whoever owned the ship must have assumed he was a corpse, not expecting him to be able to move.

Slowly opening the wooden door, Hughes peeked outside.

This was likely the lower deck.

Moving cautiously, Hughes navigated his way out.

The wooden planks creaked under his feet, but given that ships at sea naturally made some noise, no one seemed to notice him.

Unfamiliar with the layout, Hughes had never boarded the Black Pearl before, so he simply followed the corridor forward.

Soon, he arrived at the deck.

The captain’s quarters were at the stern, where someone would typically be steering the ship.

Hughes knew this much at least.

He was currently at the bow and intended to first determine exactly where he was.

Was he on the open sea or docked at a port?

If they were in port, the people he knew might not be on board.

If they were at sea, he at least needed to figure out where the ship was headed.

The Black Pearl had a distinctive figurehead.

He had seen it when bidding farewell to Beatrice and the others at the dock and had a strong impression of it.

As long as he could spot it, he would know whether he was on the Black Pearl or not.

Making his way cautiously to the upper deck, Hughes peeked outside and saw no one.

Glancing at the nearby mast, he roughly estimated his position.

He was near the front of the ship.

Keeping low and moving stealthily, he crept toward the bow.

Soon, he reached the front.

The bow was quite high, so he had to tilt his head up, carefully distinguishing the shape under the moonlight.

After a moment, he confirmed it—this was indeed the Black Pearl.

That was a relief.

Judging by the ship’s condition, there had been no battle.

Most likely, the people who left Castel were still alive.

Now, he just needed to figure out how to explain his presence.

He had finally reconnected with the outside world, though in an entirely unexpected way.

But at least this was good news.

If the information about Castel being besieged by monsters could be relayed, both the Empress and the Church would likely provide some level of assistance.

Hughes let out a deep breath, instinctively straightening up and scanning his surroundings.

For the first time since descending into this body, he looked out at the vast sea.

Oh… this wasn’t a dock.

He was at sea.

That was the last thought that flashed through Hughes’ mind as his vision suddenly darkened, swallowed by the pitch-black waters.

——

Jeremiah bolted upright in bed.

He had dreamed of the deep sea again.

But this time, the dream felt different.

He wasn’t drowning.

Instead, he found himself gradually able to breathe.

The seawater was as warm as a mother’s embrace.

Yet, for some unknown reason, he was startled awake.

Jeremiah panted heavily, air rushing through his throat into his lungs.

But he clutched his neck, feeling as if he couldn’t breathe, as though he were suffocating in open air.

It took a long time for him to recover before he collapsed back onto the bed.

"Damn it, damn it, damn it!"

He gritted his teeth.

The dreams of the deep sea were becoming more and more bizarre.

He had a foreboding sense that if this continued, he would eventually turn into a monster himself.

As he stared irritably at the ceiling, he suddenly frowned and turned his head slightly, listening.

Did he just hear footsteps?

At night, sailors rarely ventured onto the deck unless necessary.

Even for bathroom needs, they used the lower deck.

Falling into the sea at night was almost certain death, and no one would be foolish enough to take that risk.

So who was on the deck?

Jeremiah reached under his pillow and pulled out a curved blade.

He grabbed a flintlock pistol from the table, loading it as he walked.

He carefully cracked open the captain’s cabin door, moving as silently as possible toward the sound of footsteps.

"Who’s there?!"

A short figure was slowly walking toward the ship’s railing.

Their head was lowered, their movements eerily like a sleepwalker’s.

Jeremiah squinted to get a clearer look and then widened his eyes.

A corpse!

That corpse!

The one they found in the storage chest!

The corpse didn’t seem to hear him and continued shuffling toward the railing.

Jeremiah observed its movements and suddenly had a bad feeling.

Was it trying to jump into the sea?

Jeremiah put his fingers to his lips and let out a sharp whistle.

The entire ship’s crew was jolted awake, grabbing weapons and tumbling out of their bunks.

This was the alarm for battle.

Jeremiah himself didn’t stop either.

He sprinted toward the corpse.

But it was already too close to the railing—just two more steps, and it would be overboard.

Jeremiah yanked out his pistol and pulled the trigger.

The hammer struck, igniting the gunpowder and launching the bullet.

His aim was precise.

The bullet tore into the corpse’s leg, leaving a gaping wound.

But it didn’t react at all.

It reached the railing and began to climb over.

Jeremiah drew his curved blade and hurled it.

The blade flashed through the air in a cold arc, pinning the corpse’s clothing to the railing.

Rip!

The corpse had already gone over the edge.

With a sharp tearing sound, the sword was left quivering in place, holding only a scrap of fabric.

Jeremiah rushed to the railing and stared down at the ink-black sea, his face twisted in frustration as he let out a furious roar.

He saw the corpse plunge into the depths.

At the last moment, it looked back at him.

That gaze reminded Jeremiah of the tattooed man, right before he had turned into a monster.

It was as if the corpse was whispering to him—

The deep sea is waiting for you.