Chapter 794 Fragments of Memory <TOC> Chapter 796 Prayers and Realizations
Translator: SumTLMan
When Tulas voiced the truth, Angel was caught in a whirlwind of confusion.
Who had thrust the sword there? It was none other than Tulas himself.
The tale begins just before the Savage Beast, Tulas’s ship, entered the secluded island. At that time, it had not yet reached the Gear Abyss, it was still sailing the Devil’s Sea. One evening, a faction led by the first mate showed signs of mutiny…
In layman’s terms, it was sibling rivalry. The motive wasn’t hard to guess: avarice, as old as time itself.
Tulas was heading to Feran Continent in search of the wizard’s path, naturally carrying all the treasures he had amassed over the years on board. This trove enticed the first mate and his cronies. They had no desire to go to the Feran Continent. They coveted the treasures, with plans to return to their homeland and revel in riches. Thus, the stage was set for an internal power struggle aboard the Savage Beast.
In the end, naturally, Tulas triumphed.
Tulas slew the first mate near the stern of the ship. He drew the first mate’s sword and plunged it fiercely into the helm, issuing a stern warning to the onlookers: “The first mate has fallen. Those of you who have thrown in your lot with him, do you not see the turn of the tide? Surrender now, and I may spare you.”
At the threat, after a tense standoff, the mutineers laid down their arms.
This saga underpins the reason the sword was lodged in the helm. After Tulas regained control of the Savage Beast, he left the sword where it was as a symbol of his victory.
Not long after, they arrived at Gear Abyss, with all of the crew ultimately finding their eternal rest on that desolate island.
“So, you’re saying that you were the one who thrust the sword there? The treasures in that hidden room underground, they were all yours? You never entrusted them to anyone else?” Angel asked.
Tulas nodded: “Correct.”
Angel’s brow furrowed deeply, once again, the story was turned on its head. The records in Lucas’s nautical log had diverged from the truth once more.
According to Lucas, he had encountered pirates and slain them all, even decapitating the pirate leader and seizing a ship full of treasure. To show his dominance, he had thrust his sword into the helm of the pirate ship. Finally, he had claimed the treasure and hidden it in his own secret stash.
Almost every scene described in his account had indeed occurred in history.
However, the protagonist of the story was not Lucas, but Tulas. Whether it was killing pirates, thrusting the sword, or stashing the treasure, it was Tulas who had brought them all to pass.
Even the act of decapitation was carried out by Tulas.
However, it was not Lucas who decapitated the pirate. Instead, it was Tulas on the Feather Fan who severed Lucas’s skeletal head, even taking it back as a keepsake.
All these events, astonishing coincidences, yet they didn’t align with the “prophecy.” It was just like the previous Sea of Flowers and Wishing Tree!
“Is this really a prophecy?” Angel rubbed his temples, feeling as though Tulas’s detailed account brought him tantalizingly close to the crux of the matter, yet he couldn’t trace a comprehensive thread that connected everything.
The nautical logs of Lucas, the desolate island, Tulas – what was the relation between these three?
Angel decided to press on, believing that the key to linking everything together had yet to surface. The narrative could not be a mere summary; he needed a logic to tell the story.
Perhaps this “story logic” is the alleged third-party power.
“Keep going, talk about your life on the island. Start with when you were still alive; if there’s anything suspicious, you must not conceal it,” Angel urged.
Tulas resumed his tale—
After creating the underground burrow, they temporarily settled there. They found no dangers on the island, no beasts, which at first they found quite fortuitous – at least they didn’t have to worry about beast attacks. Yet as time passed, they realized the absence of life might be the greatest punishment. If there were creatures, at least it would indicate that water wasn’t scarce.
The first challenge they faced was a lack of water.
After exhausting the fresh water reserves onboard the ship, they had nothing to drink. Although the island had lakes, the water in them was incredibly filthy. Just standing by the lake and smelling the odor was enough to induce nausea, let alone drinking it.
Driven by survival, they still drank the muddied lake water, of course, after boiling it. Despite the sediment, it was at least drinkable.
The water issue seemed to be resolved, but it led to several people falling ill with diarrhea. Without many medical supplies, all the sick people had to endure the illness. During this ordeal, they had to drink water, which worsened their condition, creating a vicious cycle. They were the first group to perish.
The second challenge was loneliness and isolation.
Surrounded by perpetual darkness and endless solitude, seeing no way out, everyone fell into despair. Tulas’s persistence was solidified within this boundless loneliness, gradually building a fortress of determination.
The third challenge was the scarcity of food.
Many people died from illness, and the continuous death rate was high. Loneliness also led many to choose suicide. Thus, the food reserves on the ship, which were initially plentiful, considering they were meant to last for their journey to the Feran Continent, became depleted.
But, food, after all, runs out eventually.
In the wake of everyone else’s passing, Tulas was the last man standing. Not only was he immersed in solitude, but he also grappled with the scarcity of food after enduring an indeterminable time in the abyss of darkness. To extend his survival, he rationed his meals and minimized his activities, even refraining from venturing out. He would lie in his subterranean bed, conserving energy, hoping to prolong his existence just a little more.
Tulas had no desire to meet his end. He was prepared to endure even decades if it meant a chance of survival.
Unfortunately, resources were finite. Despite his frugal efforts, they eventually dwindled to nothing.
Tulas ultimately succumbed to starvation. In his final days, he teetered on the edge of despair. He spent each day in prayer, pleading for someone to lead him out, for a ship laden with sustenance to come, praying to be spared from the icy grip of death…
But in the end, death was inexorable.
Tulas’ expression was desolate as he narrated this part. Survival skills, which almost everyone who sailed the seas possessed, had been useless. They had found themselves stranded on a lifeless island; their survival skills, futile.
“Perhaps, this is my destiny. Destiny is like hands hidden behind the mist. We are marionettes, manipulated at will, and our final fates are set in stone,” Tulas voiced, his tone somber. He was seated on the bed, a shroud of melancholy over him.
As Angel heard these words, a flash of insight zipped through his mind. He attempted to grasp it but it seemed to elude him by a fraction of a second.
What was it? What was the truth?
Angel was engrossed in reflecting on Tulas’ final words – the discourse on fate. Such sentiments weren’t unfamiliar; many pessimists harbored similar notions. But why did a flash of insight strike him when he heard these words?
Unable to decipher it, Angel decided to probe further, “During this ordeal, are you certain nothing peculiar happened?”
Tulas contemplated for a while before shaking his head, “Other than that sudden ship and the inexplicable skeletons that followed, nothing else… Wait! There was!”
Tulas seemed to recall something, “I remember now, that skull!”
“What skull?” Angel inquired, and then he recalled Tulas’ previous narrative, “Lucas’ skull?”
“Who’s Lucas?” Tulas was perplexed.
“He’s the owner of the skeleton whose head you chopped off,” Angel replied candidly.
“Oh,” Tulas acknowledged, then nodded, “Right, that skull, Lucas’ skull!”
“In my final days as a living being, I was on the brink of death. Hence, I frequently experienced hallucinations, unable to distinguish reality from illusion. But there was one thing I was certain about – Lucas’ skull. It often glowed with light.”
Angel: Another mention of a glowing skull?
Suddenly, a thought struck Angel. He had once hidden in a cave to evade the gaze of the Leviathan, and Toby had mentioned there being a golden light inside. Yet, when he ventured in, he saw no such luminous object.
Could it be that this glowing item was the very skull sitting beside Tulas’ bed?
“What color was the glow you saw on the skull?” Angel couldn’t help but inquire.
“Golden light!”
Angel: “…” It seemed that it was indeed that skull. It appeared as if there was some mystery hidden within the skull. Regrettably, he hadn’t known back then, assuming instead that some treasure inside was glowing.
A hint of regret washed over Angel for not taking the skull with him. However, it was understandable. After all, who would impulsively take away a skull?
Meanwhile, Toby, who was napping in Angel’s chest pocket, peacefully turned over in his sleep.
Angel: “How did you determine that the skull’s glow wasn’t a hallucination as you neared death?”
Tulas: “Because after I died and became a ghost, I still remembered the skull emitting light intermittently…”
“Even after becoming a ghost, it still glowed? Was there any pattern to its illumination?”
Tulas shook his head: “There was no particular pattern. It often started glowing unexpectedly… Ah, yes, it seems to have two modes of glowing, one flickering, the other steady.”
“Is there any difference between these two glowing frequencies?”
“In terms of the flickering, there doesn’t seem to be any pattern. Whenever I was around, it would start glowing inexplicably. As for the steady light…”
Just as Tulas was about to say something, he froze abruptly. The memory box was unlocked, and a memory fragment hidden deep within suddenly sprang forth.
Chapter 794 Fragments of Memory <TOC> Chapter 796 Prayers and Realizations