“Do as I say! I know my ship better than anyone!!”

  After shouting at the boiler room, Charles turned to his first mate on the floor. “John! Get half the cargo off the ship!”

  He knew that now was not the time for hesitation; survival was more important than anything else.

  “Yes, sir!” The stout old man kicked open the helm door and rushed out.

  Listening to the splashes of cargo hitting the water, Charles felt his heart bleed.

  Fortunately, after a series of measures, the *Rat*, now lightened, began to pick up speed, slowly distancing itself from whatever was chasing them.

  When the true beacon finally appeared ahead, Charles, drenched in cold sweat, cautiously released his grip on the helm.

  The trembling teenager crawled to Charles's feet, clutching his leg tightly.

  “Captain… I just saw—”

  Charles pinched the boy's cheek, silencing him. “What did I tell you before boarding? What’s the third rule?”

  “Don’t look at or think about the monsters in the water unless they’re close to the ship. If you see them, don’t speak of it…”

  “Good. Now stand up, drop anchor, and gather everyone on deck. I need to take a headcount.”

  Releasing the boy, Charles stepped out of the helm. The deck was a chaotic mess, water pooling everywhere, ropes floating on the surface, swaying back and forth.

  Wading through the calf-deep water, Charles made his way to the stern. The ship’s tapered rear was caved in, as if struck by a massive hammer, covered in some unknown black goo that emitted a foul stench.

  Given the shape, it was easy to imagine the size of the creature that had just collided with the ship. However, eight years of sailing had dulled Charles’s curiosity; he was now focused on other concerns.

  “Repairing this will cost a fortune…” Charles felt a surge of frustration; he was now one step further from his dreams.

  At that moment, the whispers returned, creeping from the surrounding darkness.

  “Ph…nglui mglw…nafh…”

  “Damn!” Charles clenched his fist and pounded his forehead with his knuckles, the pain dulling the irritation brought on by the whispers.

  As he saw the other crew members gathering on deck, Charles lowered his hand and approached them.

  Upon seeing their captain, several men of varying heights quickly lined up. Regardless of their appearances, their faces were all as pale as Charles’s.

  “John, first mate, assisting the captain and organizing work plans, responsible for cargo loading schedules, helmsman from 12 to 24,” the stout old man spoke first.

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  Next to Old John stood a tall, muscular man covered in grease, who quickly added, “James, chief engineer, responsible for maintaining the boiler’s operation; also overseeing the propulsion system, auxiliary equipment, boiler, lubrication, cooling, and fuel.”

  Beside the tall man was a lanky figure, looking like a human scarecrow. “Freddie, the cook, responsible for the crew’s meals.”

  Following the cook was a pale boy named Deep, who swayed slightly, still recovering from the earlier chaos. “D-Deep, deckhand, responsible for cleaning the deck and maintaining the anchor, cables, and loading equipment.”

  Charles quickly scanned the group and noticed one person was missing. “Where’s the bosun?”

  The four men exchanged glances, but no one answered.

  Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream erupted from below deck.

  “Something’s come aboard! Grab your weapons!” Charles shouted, leading the crew as they rushed toward the sound.

  As they entered the dimly lit crew quarters, an icy chill shot up their spines.

  Inside the dark cabin were only two figures: the bosun standing in terror, and another man lying on the ground, unrecognizable, his skin flayed off, each movement sending shudders of pain through his bloodied body.

  He lay there, screaming and desperately struggling, his breath growing weaker by the second.

  “Jim! Find out who he is!” Charles quickly drew his revolver.

  The bosun, face pale with fear, crawled toward the bloodied figure, leaning in to listen.

  After a few seconds, he turned back in panic, pointing at Charles. “Captain… he says he is you!”

  “Me?”

  Hearing the frantic footsteps of his crew behind him, Charles decisively aimed his gun at the bosun.

  “Charles, captain, responsible for the safety and transport of the vessel, ensuring the safety of crew and cargo, decisively and steadily handling emergencies, helmsman from 0 to 12! Bosun! Report your duties now!!”

  “You need to kill him!! He’s not your captain anymore!” The bosun screamed, pointing at Charles in terror.

  “Bang!” As Charles pulled the trigger, a bloody hole appeared in the bosun's forehead, from which not blood, but a semi-coagulated dark yellow liquid oozed out.

  As the truth unraveled, the wounded bosun began to twist and change, his mouth splitting to the back of his head, limbs swelling grotesquely as he lunged at Charles with a horrific shriek.

  “Bang bang bang!” Bullets rained down on the bosun, his skin tearing like a burlap sack, revealing a dark, rotting, toad-like torso beneath.

  Despite expending six bullets, the creature still didn’t fall, lunging towards Charles.

  Having faced such horrors before, Charles remained calm, rolling aside to evade the monster's attack.

  While dodging, he swiftly reloaded his revolver, flipping it back for another six shots.

  Under the barrage of twelve bullets, the creature’s legs buckled, collapsing to the floor.

  Gasping for breath, Charles glanced at the grotesque corpse before him, then turned to the terrified crew members behind him.

  “Stop staring! Get this damned thing off my ship,” Charles commanded, striding toward the unmoving body.

  Ignoring the overwhelming stench of blood, he adjusted the head to see the missing front tooth. It was clear now; this was his bosun, the other had been the monster in disguise.

  A flicker of pain crossed Charles’s face, but he quickly masked it, reloading his gun and beginning to patrol the ship, searching for any other lurking threats.

  Deep followed Old John, struggling to move the body.

  The boy turned to his companion in awe. “The captain is so powerful.”

  “Ha! Of course! Otherwise, how would he be captain while you’re just a deckhand? He was just like you when he first came aboard.”

  “Really? What was Captain Charles like when he joined?”

  “That’s a long story; it’s been nearly seven or eight years. I was on another ship as a third mate when Charles drifted in. When I first met him, he couldn’t even speak.”

  “Really? How did he become captain?”

  “The old captain took pity on him and let him follow from a distance. When we returned to port and realized he wasn’t a monster, he stayed on our ship, learning to speak and how to be a sailor. Not long after he learned to talk, he declared he wanted his own ship to lead humanity back to the land of light. We all laughed, thinking he was mad.”

  “And then?”

  “Then he worked his way up from sailor to bosun, and just when we thought he’d become a second mate, he actually saved enough to buy a second-hand cargo ship—this very *Rat* beneath our feet.”