In the early morning, Kyle struggled to sit up on the beach, his vision blurry and his head pounding. Nearby, two overly energetic monsters had already started their morning exercises.
"Hyaaaah! Raaaargh!"
Roger and Gaban, one swinging a sword and the other a battle-axe, were engaged in a meaningless but incredibly loud clash of wills. The constant clang of steel, their full-throated battle cries, and the unrestrained shockwaves ravaged Kyle's fragile nerves.
"Good morning, Kyle! Did you sleep well?" Roger even managed to grin at him in the middle of the chaotic skirmish.
"Good my foot…" Kyle covered his head, feeling as if his brain were about to be shaken into pudding.
"Haha, young people have such poor recovery," Gaban commented, effortlessly cleaving through Roger's attack. He still had the energy to shake his head and offer his opinion.
A rich aroma of coffee drifted over, becoming the only salvation in this madness. Rayleigh was sitting by the extinguished bonfire, leisurely brewing coffee in a small pot, completely unbothered by the clamor around him.
"Care for a cup?" he asked, handing Kyle a wooden mug.
As if granted amnesty, Kyle scrambled over. The warm liquid slid down his throat, finally dispelling some of the haze in his mind.
"Speaking of which," Kyle said, looking at the dilapidated boat they had abandoned on the shore, "we need to talk about transportation. If we squeeze Mister Gaban onto that thing, I suspect it will immediately choose to sink in protest. You guys might be fine, but I'll definitely be done for."
Rayleigh took a sip of coffee, glanced at the boat, and nodded in agreement. "It has fulfilled its mission."
"Hey, hey! How can you say that!" Roger and Gaban's morning exercise had ended at some point, and they were now standing nearby. Roger patted the side of the battered boat with a heartbroken expression. "It was our first companion when we set sail! How can you just abandon it!"
The boat let out a pained groan, as if protesting Roger's heavy hand.
"Exactly!" Gaban echoed in his booming voice. "The value of a boat lies in the dreams it carries, not in how new its planks are!"
Kyle looked at the two hot-blooded idiots as if they were fools.
"Gentlemen," Kyle began, pointing to the cracks at the bottom of the boat, which were barely plugged with seaweed and mud, and then to the mast that looked like it might snap at any moment. "Its soul might be moving on to the next world soon. Besides, with Mister Gaban's physique, plus his two axes that must weigh a ton each, are you sure it won't just split in half the moment we all step on it?"
"Kuhahaha! A small matter!" Roger waved his hand dismissively. "A true pirate can cross the sea on a single plank! These minor issues are perfect for training our survival skills!"
"I don't want to train those skills!" Kyle's roar echoed across the beach.
Ultimately, with an overwhelming two-to-one vote (Rayleigh abstained), Kyle's protest was ruthlessly rejected. The group reached a consensus to "temporarily ride the dangerous boat and save up to replace it with a larger one as soon as possible."
So, under Kyle's tragic gaze, Roger and Gaban gleefully moved their luggage—which was mainly barrels of wine and dried meat—onto the boat. With each item they placed, the boat groaned sickeningly and sank a little further into the water. When it was Kyle's turn to board, he stood beside the boat and took a deep, solemn breath, his face filled with a sense of fatalism. He reached out and gently patted the weathered hull, whispering in a farewell tone, "Old friend, I know you've done your best. If… if we really sink, please sink slowly. At least give me a chance to grab a piece of wood…"
"Kyle! What are you dawdling for? We're about to set sail!" Roger's voice urged from the bow.
Kyle steeled himself, closed his eyes, and stepped onto the deck. This is it. I'm done for.
Greeee—creak—CRACK!
The wooden plank beneath his feet let out a long, mournful shriek, and the entire boat suddenly tilted sharply in his direction, almost sending him tumbling directly into the sea.
"See! I told you!" Kyle's face was pale as he clung desperately to the side of the boat.
"Relax, it's just saying hello!" Roger grinned as the small boat swayed precariously, leaving the beach and drifting out toward the open sea.
The moment they set sail, disaster followed.
Bang!
A thud came from inside the cabin, followed by a jet of water gushing out from a crack in the deck. It shot up like a small fountain, precisely drenching Kyle's head and face.
"Ah—the boat's leaking! It's the spot Roger smashed when he was moving the wine barrels!" Kyle yelled, wiping seawater from his face, his voice cracking.
"Oh, small problem." Roger glanced over, casually grabbed a cork from a nearby empty wine barrel, ran over, aimed at the hole, and stomped down hard with his foot.
Thump!
The cork was perfectly stomped in, and the fountain instantly disappeared.
"See? Fixed," Roger said, clapping his hands together with a smug, "I'm so clever" expression on his face.
Kyle's eye twitched. Are you serious? That's like stopping an arterial bleed with a band-aid!
Before he could finish his mental complaint, Rayleigh's steady voice rang out. "Roger, the sail won't go up."
Everyone looked over to see Rayleigh pulling on the halyard, but the other end of the rope was empty. The severely worn hemp rope had snapped cleanly in two the moment it bore tension. The huge sail unfurled with a whoosh, collapsing like a large net and completely covering Gaban, who was standing beneath the mast.
"Ugh—!" Gaban let out a muffled grunt from under the canvas.
"Mister Gaban! Are you alright?!" Kyle exclaimed.
The canvas bulged, and then a thick arm poked out from it, giving a thumbs-up. "I'm fine! This canvas… it's very tough! Good material!"
"Kuhahaha! Gaban, you can just help hold up the sail!" Roger laughed indifferently.
So, for the rest of the voyage, Gaban became a "human mast," using his burly physique and strong arms to literally hold the sail open at an angle to catch the wind. Kyle was too numb to complain anymore.
"Hmm?" Rayleigh, who was at the helm, suddenly let out a soft exclamation.
Kyle's heart sank. An ominous premonition surged within him. He stiffly turned his head and saw Rayleigh raising his right hand. In it, he held a solitary, broken piece of wood.
It was the tiller. The ship's rudder. It… had broken off. The ship's steering mechanism now consisted of half a stick in the First Mate's hand.
"…"
"…"
"…"
A strange silence fell over the ship, leaving only the sound of the wind and waves. Kyle's mouth slowly fell open as he froze in place.
"Oh dear," Rayleigh said, looking at the broken tiller in his hand with a troubled expression. "This is a bit of a problem."
"Kuhahahahaha!" Roger's booming laugh broke the frozen air. "Interesting! Even the rudder broke! This voyage certainly won't be boring!" He turned to Gaban, his eyes gleaming. "Gaban! Lend me your axe!"
Gaban's eyes lit up, instantly understanding Roger's intention. "Good idea! If we stick the axe blade in the water, we can control the direction!"
"Exactly!"
The two instantly agreed, as if they had just solved a global crisis.
"Noooo—!!!" Kyle let out a desperate cry. "Are you two going to dismantle the boat for spare parts?!"
However, no one paid any attention to his breakdown. Gaban quickly handed a battle-axe to Roger, who excitedly ran to the stern, plunged the huge axe blade into the water, and began swinging it left and right like he was paddling a kayak. Under his "control," the small boat began to advance in an extremely bizarre, wobbly S-shaped path.
Kyle completely gave up. He slumped onto the deck, letting the cold seawater splash indiscriminately on his face. The only thought this man, who was determined to become the "King of Connections," had left was to pray that his connections would be of some use inside the belly of a Sea King.
"Yo ho—! Let's have a song!" Roger yelled enthusiastically while "paddling."
"Yo-hoho-ho, yo-ho-ho-ho… Gather up all of the crew! It's time to ship out Binks's Brew!"
Gaban and even Rayleigh began to hum along, their cheerful and bold singing drifting far over the sea.
Kyle silently covered his face. He felt like he hadn't just boarded a pirate ship. He had boarded a floating mental asylum.