With Echo banknotes in hand, John turned to leave, a smug smile on his face. But just as he pushed the door open, he hesitated and turned back, conflicted.

  Looking at the shadows interwoven with light and darkness behind him, he hesitated to speak.

  “Captain, I’m leaving too. To be honest, why don’t you come ashore as well? Even if you save up enough to buy an exploration ship, what then? The Land of Light doesn’t exist.”

  “It does.”

  Charles’s tone was calm, but his eyes held a resolute glint.

  “Something larger than an island hangs in the sky, selflessly providing us with light and warmth, dispelling darkness. How could that be? It’s all just a scam made up by the Church of Light.”

  Seeing Charles remain silent, Old John sighed and continued to persuade him. “When I first met you, even though you couldn’t speak, you were so vibrant, so cheerful and confident. I thought, what a fine young man! If I had a granddaughter, I’d definitely introduce her to you.”

  “You don’t need to hide it from me. I know you’ve been hearing the voice of the divine for many days now. If this continues, you’ll truly go mad. Just give it up.”

  Charles, expressionless, walked to the door and slammed it shut with a “bang.”

  “Child, you’re too obsessed.” John’s footsteps faded away, and silence returned outside.

  “Am I too obsessed?” Charles murmured to himself, leaning against the door as his expression twisted in pain.

  “What’s wrong with wanting to go back?” he suddenly shouted, his voice filled with anguish.

  “I’ve never committed any crimes!! Why does this happen to me? Why!!”

  “Eight years!! A full eight years!! Why must I suffer like this!! I just want to go home, is that so wrong?!!” Charles roared in frustration.

  “glui mglw……na……” The whispering in his ears returned, driving him to distraction.

  “Damn it!!” In a fit of rage, he drew his handgun and pressed it against his temple.

  Just as his trembling finger was about to pull the trigger, a muffled protest came from the neighboring wall.

  “What's all this noise!! Keep it down!!”

  Suddenly, Charles fell silent. He tucked the gun back into his waistband and carefully wrapped the wooden knife in a cloth.

  That night, Charles dreamed of many things, but when he awoke again, he remembered nothing.

  “Knock, knock, knock.” The door was rapped on again.

  When Charles opened the door, he found a bald man with octopus tentacle tattoos on his face standing before him.

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  “Are you Captain Charles of the *Rat*? I’m Hook, nice to meet you.”

  Charles eyed the man warily, taking in his ordinary features and inwardly curved ears, signifying he was a local of Coral Island. The octopus tattoos confirmed his faith.

  “What does a Futan follower want with me? You’re not planning to offer me as a sacrifice to your omnipotent god, are you?”

  Sensing the hostility in Charles’s words, Hook showed no anger.

  “To become a worthy sacrifice for a powerful being, you might not qualify. I’m here for something else, Captain Charles. I hear you’re in need of money, yes?”

  Charles wasn’t surprised; this wasn’t the first time this guy had approached him.

  “I don’t smuggle contraband,” he replied, ready to close the door.

  In truth, he was lying. Sometimes he did smuggle if the profit was enough, but he was resolute in avoiding too much contact with these cultists.

  The difference between a Futan follower and the madmen on the streets was merely the ability to speak normally; no sane person would consider the underwater monsters as gods.

  Just as the door was about to close, Charles suddenly heard a number float in from outside. “One million Echo.”

  Looking at the black pupils peering through the crack of the door, Hook smiled confidently.

  “Mr. Charles, this reward can fully cover your financial shortfall, allowing you to purchase a top-tier exploration ship. Just think about it! If you discover a new island, you’ll own your land and become the governor of that new island. Then, women, power, and endless Echo Coins will all be yours.”

  Charles didn’t know how these people had learned of his intentions, but he felt a twinge of temptation. With that much money, the path home would be significantly closer.

  He didn’t let his guard down, though; the Futan cult was no charity. A huge reward always came with extreme danger.

  “What do you want me to smuggle?” Charles asked warily.

  “It’s not about smuggling goods; we want you to help us find something. Please, follow me. Our high priest will explain the details to you.”

  After thinking for a few seconds, Charles opened the door and stepped outside.

  The two walked out of the port area, crossing through the fishy-smelling docks towards the residential area of the island.

  The residential area of Coral Main Island was less chaotic and more lively. If it weren’t for the gray-white coral buildings, Charles could have sworn he was walking in mid-18th century London.

  The island had banks, hospitals, clothing stores, and theaters—modern facilities abounded. If not for the locals’ deformed ears and pale skin, everything seemed perfectly normal.

  One island equated to one city, bustling with people. Their clothing indicated a mix of rich and poor, with everyone busy with their own affairs.

  “Grilled spider crab legs, only 4 Echo Coins each!”

  “Daddy, I can’t walk anymore!”

  “Extra! Extra! Major news! Governor Niko will marry his sixth husband in six days!”

  “Excuse me, sir, may I have a moment of your time? I’d like to introduce you to our Father and Savior, the omniscient and omnipotent being, Futan Sawito.”

  The tranquil scenery made Charles uneasy; no matter how peaceful it appeared, everything here felt as fragile as a bubble. Though rare, islands housing millions of humans had sunk before.

  As they wove through the gray-white buildings, they finally arrived in front of a massive church.

  Upon entering the church, the noise instantly quieted. In the center of the main hall stood a massive stone sculpture that could barely be described as humanoid.

  Though it was humanoid, its features resembled a standing, decaying octopus. The outwardly curling scales and the countless eyes covering its body made one feel ill at first glance.

  Dressed in black robes, the followers stood in neat lines, softly chanting a language devoid of consonants. Charles found the words somewhat familiar, resembling the phrases from his hallucinations.

  “The high priest is in the confession room. Please follow me,” Hook said, leading Charles deeper into the church.

  As they moved past the crowd, security tightened at the back of the hall. Each corner and doorway had a black-robed follower standing guard. Though none spoke, Charles felt their eyes watching him.

  In a dimly lit room, Charles saw the high priest of the Futan cult, a figure in red robes kneeling on the floor.

  Hook respectfully performed a gesture of reverence before stepping back.

  The high priest slowly rose but didn’t turn around.

  “Captain Charles, my church needs you to find something. A relic of my lord.”