The gray-black sea reflected the gloomy sky above, and the damp air carried the musty scent of rotting shipwood.
When Aldric opened his eyes, he found himself lying on a stretch of beach. Fine raindrops fell upon his face, the cool sensation so real it was indistinguishable from reality. Though he lived in an age overflowing with advanced technology, Aldric still couldn't help but feel a deep sense of awe toward the game company's realism and craftsmanship.
He shook the sand from his body and checked his condition. The white silk undershirt he wore clung to his skin, soaked soft and limp by seawater. The upper body's torn leather armor still offered a bit of protection, while his leather pants and boots were, fortunately, in decent condition. Emptying the water from his boots, he looked around.
The beach was littered with stones, its dull tone blending into the dreary sky and sea. Scattered wooden debris and a few bloated corpses floated nearby. Not far away—perhaps a few hundred meters—stood a broken ship run aground on a reef.
Aldric decided to head toward the wrecked ship in hopes of finding something useful. Judging by the situation, he had "successfully" arrived at the Far South Colony zone. How long it would take to reach a human settlement, however, was anyone's guess. According to the background introduction, this region was now a semi-fallen zone, civilization on the brink of collapse. Who could tell what chaos the Far South was in now?
The ship was a twelfth-century-style maplewood sailing vessel. It had clearly crashed violently against the reef, the hull's side torn open and flooding with seawater. The ship now leaned sharply toward the coastline. Aldric quickened his pace, hoping to complete his search before the ship sank entirely.
Agilely leaping from rock to rock, he climbed up onto the other side of the tilted hull. The ship was leaning at nearly forty degrees, and the wet, slippery planks made finding footing difficult. Fortunately, with his Dexterity stat as high as sixteen, Aldric managed to move steadily along the deck toward the cabin structure.
The cabin interior was no better off—flooded halfway and bearing deep dents and cracks from heavy impacts. Crates and cabinets were scattered and overturned everywhere. Aldric searched each compartment one by one, hoping to find either survivors or supplies. Unfortunately, after combing through two cabins, he found nothing but broken timber and debris.
The rain grew heavier and showed no sign of stopping. Lightning repeatedly struck the forest in the distance, illuminating the horizon in flashes. The wind whipped the rain into a frenzied dance, while waves pounded rhythmically against the doomed vessel. With each impact, Aldric could feel the ship trembling beneath his feet.
Unsure how long the ship would last, he sped up his search. Upon entering the third cabin, he finally found a bundle containing some food. Opening it, he discovered a thick paste mixed with bits of dried meat.
The cabin at the top of the ship's structure appeared to be the last one. It was located at the highest, innermost part of the ship. Compared to the others, this room was much more luxurious and even had its own window. Aldric guessed it must be the captain's quarters, so he began carefully searching for anything useful.
Every chest he could open, he did. Inside an oak box, he found a finely crafted metal flask with a ruby embedded in the center. Nearby, a curved saber caught his attention—it wasn't long, shaped with an elegant, antelope-horn-like curve perfect for slashing. The sheath was decorated with exotic engravings. Under the flash of lightning through the window, the blade's surface shimmered with fine, scale-like patterns.
Just then, the ship groaned again—"creak, creak"—as if it were grinding its teeth. The tilt had worsened, and Aldric knew he had to leave fast, or he'd be joining this vessel at the bottom of the sea. Luckily, after another violent shake, the ship steadied again, the creaking quieting down enough to give him time to escape.
Back on shore, Aldric took a brief rest and checked his belongings.
[Tattered Leather Armor]: A badly damaged leather cuirass. Offers no real protection aside from psychological comfort. — Useless junk with no repair value.
[Leather Pants]: Material unknown. Nearly indestructible, yet provides no defense. — We can't have our players running around naked, can we?
[Cowhide Boots]: Common cowhide boots. Though soaked, they're still wearable and offer minor protection. — Hey, at least we gave you something.
[Fine Curved Saber]: A carefully maintained saber of delicate craftsmanship. Treated to resist rust during long sea voyages. Sharpness: Average. Quality: Average. No special attributes. — A shipboard weapon once cherished by its former owner.
[Captain Emmus Rockfell's Rum Flask]: A personalized flask belonging to Captain Emmus Rockfell. Any rum stored inside for over four hours gains mild healing and warming effects. — Ahem, without it, my stomach ulcers would've killed me long ago.
[Minced Meat Porridge Mix]: A blend of potato flour, pumpkin powder, and shredded jerky. Can be boiled in water for consumption. — Looks as sticky as it tastes.
He hadn't seen any corpses aboard the ship, so Aldric guessed that the crew had likely abandoned ship before it ran aground. The other surviving sailors probably landed somewhere along this stretch of beach, while he, unlucky as ever, had been tossed overboard during the storm and washed ashore by the waves.
Looking at the flask in his hand—engraved with the name Captain Emmus Rockfell—Aldric suspected that the captain might still be alive. His first quest probably involved finding him. A seasoned captain like that would surely know where the nearest settlement was.
He swung the curved saber a few times, the blade flashing sharply as lightning lit the sky. Though it didn't feel perfectly balanced, Aldric was no stranger to such weapons. During his years studying at Wuju Martial Institute, he had practiced various melee weapons in the Sword Hall. This saber's design, in particular, resembled the ancient Persian style.
He recalled sparring with Middle Eastern warriors during martial tournaments—their techniques were strange yet fluid, their slashing movements continuous and unpredictable. His innate talent, [Weapon Mastery], allowed him to wield the curved saber with natural ease, as though an invisible instructor were guiding his hands.
Gazing toward the distant black forest, Aldric decided to find shelter where he could build a fire and dry his clothes. Once warm and fed, he would wait for the rain to stop and then explore nearby, hoping to find traces of other survivors.
But just as he was making plans, a sharp, blood-curdling scream echoed from deep within the forest.
(End of Chapter)