The moment William opened the cabin door, the sea breeze rushed forward, brushing against his face as if welcoming him with the same excitement bubbling in his chest.
He instinctively raised his hand to shield his eyes. The sudden burst of sunlight was blinding, forcing him to pause for a moment.
As his eyes adjusted, the sight before him made his breath catch.
'It really is the open sea…' he thought.
Slowly, he stepped out and walked toward the port side of the ship. The deck creaked softly beneath his boots, and the low, rhythmic splashing of waves created a strangely calming background.
Leaning over the railing, he watched the water closely. Gentle ripples glided along the hull, and just beneath the surface, he spotted small fish darting around, weaving through the sunlight like silver streaks.
With his basic knowledge of marine environments, he quickly deduced:
'This must be shallow water. Otherwise, I wouldn't be seeing fish swimming so close to the surface.'
After a few minutes of silent observation, finding nothing particularly unusual, William turned to check the other side of the ship-
And then froze.
An island.
Not far in the distance, sitting calmly across the blue expanse, was a small island. From this vantage point, he could make out a modest port with docks and several wooden buildings scattered nearby.
Though he couldn't see anyone moving around, the port looked clean and well-kept. The buildings weren't run-down or abandoned either.
'There must be people here… natives?'
His thoughts immediately returned to the system's announcement. it had specifically mentioned the existence of native inhabitants. That meant this world wasn't just filled with players; it had its own life, its own people, and probably its own rules.
'This isn't just a player-only zone. The natives must play a vital role in the world's structure.'
William wanted to take a closer look. But then a problem hit him.
He didn't know how to operate a ship.
Not even a little.
Never in his life had he thought to study sailing. Modern ships ran on engines and technology, not sails and ropes.
But the ship he was on… it had sails. Traditional ones. And if he tried to move it without understanding how to control them… he has a high chance of crashing the ship.
"Shit," he muttered under his breath.
For a moment, he even considered swimming to the island. It didn't look too far, maybe two or three hundred meters, give or take. But even with his enhanced physique, he wasn't confident he'd have enough energy to make the trip both ways.
Getting there would be doable.
Getting back, not so much.
'Come on, System… Give me something. Anything.'
Desperate, William made his way to the helm, scanning for any form of assistance, maybe a hidden lever, a magical interface, or a steering aid.
No luck.
The helm was as traditional as it could be. A large wooden wheel, no sign of magical enhancements, and definitely no modern controls.
Left with no better option, he decided to do it the old-fashioned way. He began adjusting the sail manually, tying the ropes with what little knowledge he had.
'If I crash, I crash on land at least. I'll deal with the damage later.'
But just as he reached for the rudder; A strange sensation washed over him.
Then suddenly, Knowledge.
It poured into his mind like water flooding through an open gate.
Ship mechanics. Sail positioning. Wind reading. Rudder control. Basic docking procedures.
Everything he needed to pilot the ship appeared in his head like he'd known it all along. Of course it's not at the level of expert, just basic things given by the system for free, but for now it's more than enough.
William's eyes brightened, his anxiety replaced by relief. Now, instead of fumbling blindly, he could confidently sail toward the docks.
'Thank you, system,' he silently whispered, gratitude filling his chest as he carefully guided the ship toward the mysterious island.
The boat began to move;
William gripped the helm tightly, his pulse quickening as the shore drew closer. His newly acquired sailing knowledge was put to the test, his mind swiftly translating theory into reality.
"Easy now…" he whispered, maneuvering the rudder delicately. The boat obeyed, gliding smoothly toward the docks.
As he approached, he noticed more details about the island. Buildings, simple but sturdy, stood silently beyond the wooden pier. Palm trees swayed lazily in the breeze, their leaves whispering secrets. Yet the island was strangely silent, almost frozen in time.
He guided the ship closer, slowing its pace. The wooden hull gently bumped against the dock, sending a small shudder through the vessel. Quickly, William tied off a rope to secure the boat, using knowledge he didn't remember learning.
Taking a steadying breath, he stepped onto the pier. It creaked softly beneath his feet, as if protesting his arrival. A chill slid down his spine, his [Extraordinary Senses] suddenly prickling with awareness. He wasn't alone here, even if the place appeared empty.
"Hello?" His voice echoed slightly, swallowed quickly by the oppressive silence.
William took a few cautious steps forward, feeling the roughness of sun-bleached wood beneath his boots. His eyes darted around, searching for signs of life. Yet, aside from scattered fishing nets, empty barrels, and a faint smell of cooking smoke lingering in the air, there were no clear signs of inhabitants.
As he moved toward the cluster of buildings, the sense of unease deepened. Doors hung half-open, windows stared blankly, and not a single voice greeted him. The island felt abandoned, yet perfectly maintained, as if its people had vanished suddenly, leaving everything behind.
He stopped, turning slowly to scan the surroundings. His heart quickened again when he spotted faint tracks in the sandy path leading from the pier. Fresh, human footprints heading deeper into the village.
William tightened his grip on his swords instinctively. His curiosity warred with caution.
"Well," he muttered softly, reassuring himself, "I won't find answers standing here."
Drawing a steady breath, he followed the footprints, stepping forward into the silent, mysterious village, uncertain of what awaited him next, but ready to discover its secrets.
…
As William tracked the footprints deeper inland, his Senses suddenly prickled with a heightened intensity. He felt the distinct presence of eyes upon him, something hiding in the shadows, silently watching each of his movements.
Yet, apart from the wind whispering through the trees, there was no visible sign of movement.
William took a deep breath, muscles tensed and ready for an ambush. But the attack never came; only the unsettling sensation of being watched persisted, gnawing at his nerves.
He thought briefly of retreating to the ship, but a jolt from his Senses warned him there was immediate danger behind him, blocking his way back. So he has no other choice than keep going deeper into the island. Where his sense is not picking any dangerous disturbance.
As he ran deeper, William finally noticed what appeared to be a gathering spot ahead, his attention wavered for just a second.
And in that moment, Whoosh!
Before his hand could even drawn his sword, something moved swiftly behind him. William's senses screamed in alarm, but his inexperienced body couldn't match their speed, leaving him completely vulnerable.
Bam!
"Ugh!" He grunted, air knocked violently from his lungs as a brutal kick struck his back. Even with his enhanced physique, the blow sent him sprawling forward, rolling painfully along the dirt path until he came to rest, face down.
Not yet recovered or even drawing another breath, another assailant dropped from the treetops above, pinning him firmly to the ground.
"Is this one of the fish that slipped our nets earlier?" Sneered the attacker, voice rough with contempt. He forced William's face into the ground, leaving him too dizzy to resist.
"Not this one," replied another voice calmly from behind, "This one's fresh. Just arrived. I've never seen him around here before."
Feeling William cease struggling, the attacker above quickly bound him with coarse ropes, "Then carry on with the search. The Head Priest wants more servants for our Lord once he's revived."
"Don't worry. Those two fish won't slip away tonight," The voice behind William assured confidently. His footsteps began to retreat into the road before, but suddenly paused.
"Oh, right," he said, turning slightly, "This one's spirit is unusually high. He sensed me even before I attacked. Perhaps he could serve as our Lord's vessel."
"Oh?" The man pinning William chuckled darkly, "That's good news. The Head Priest will be very pleased."
"For the Winged Lord," The retreating voice affirmed solemnly.
The man binding William echoed fervently, "For the Winged Lord."
…
William's head throbbed, his back still aching from the brutal kick, 'I didn't expect my first meeting with natives to be this violent…' He thought wryly, trying to remain calm. And Snatches some information from their conversation.
'A cult… This must be a cult…' He thought as he process the information he heard.
They marched with him deeper into the village, eventually arriving at a camp near an ancient-looking stone altar he saw before.
William shivered involuntarily. Around the altar, villagers had gathered, their eyes glazed with blank looks as if their soul got extracted or something. Many symbols of wings and twisted spirals adorned every wall, carved meticulously as if by a fevered hand.
The moment William's gaze touched those symbols, his spirit convulsed, sending shockwaves of dread and nausea coursing through him.
Obviously this symbol is depicting something Extraordinary.
At the center stood what could only be the Head Priest, cloaked in crimson, his arms raised toward the sky as his followers murmured fervent prayers. Their words rose together, powerful and unified, carrying an undercurrent of fanaticism that sent chills down William's spine.
But what truly seized William's attention were several chained figures behind the Head Priest. Their backs bore protrusions of bone, pushing painfully against their flesh, their faces twisted in agony and hopelessness as heavy chains bound them to the earth.
William's captor halted, unwilling to interrupt the ceremony. Yet he watched with shining devotion, making it clear he shared the cult's zealous faith. William, on the other hand, felt his stomach churn.
'What the hell did I stumble into?'
As William watched in horror, the cultists chanted fervently, their voices echoing with mad devotion:
"O Great Lord Of The Winged People, Ocean King From The Sky Above, Awaken from your eternal slumber! Accept these vessels we offer, grant them your divine form and reclaim your throne above the Mystic Sea!"
As the chanting neared its peak, a terrifying, suffocating pressure descended. William sensed an overwhelming warning flash through his mind:
Don't See, Don't Feel, Don't Know… Or You will Be Corrupted…
Danger!!!
Pure instinct screamed at him to escape. In a burst of panic, he tried to tear free. But sensing his resistance, his captor seized William by the neck and forced him to witness the grotesque ritual.
"Peasant, You should be grateful seeing the revival ritual of our lord in the first place." The man laughed.
William's blood ran cold at what he saw next. The chained victims began thrashing violently. Their eyes bulged as they screamed, the bony protrusions on their backs cracking further through their skin.
Soon, a few collapsed, dead, their bodies mutating horribly in death's throes. The altar was awash in blood.
A wave of madness slammed into William's consciousness, threatening to drown him. He felt an insane grin tug at his lips; Like some foreign presence attempted to twist his will, urging him to embrace the Winged Lord.
William definitely doesn't want to be a madman like them. So he fought through the haze, summoned all his Spirit power to shield himself.
He doesn't understand how he did it. It hurt like hell, but he gradually wrestled back to control. By the time his awareness cleared, tears and snot covered his face. He was trembling, exhausted, and his body was unresponsive.
Unbeknownst to him, his desperate focus on defending his mind left his body open to contamination. Subtle lumps now formed near his shoulder blades, the first signs of a mutating infection.
His captor noticed with a savage grin, "That's right… accept the Lord's gift."
William's consciousness faded, unable to endure further.
When the chanting finally subsided, all the chained figures lay dead, their blood painting the altar in gory detail. The Head Priest lowered his arms, breathing heavily, disappointed by another failed ritual.
But it doesn't matter, they are willing to try and more than willing to sacrifice the entire sea for their Lord to come back.
Later William's captor, Adman, suddenly approached, urgently explaining William's potential as the perfect vessel due to his high spirit and compatibility with the Winged mutation.
The Head Priest's eyes brightened greedily, viewing William's unconscious form as a treasure delivered directly to him.
"Excellent! Prepare him. Tomorrow, at midday, we'll perform the ritual again. Meanwhile, ensure your brother captures those two white-haired ones, Witches are rare and valuable. With them, our Lord will surely awaken."
"Yes, Head Priest!" Adman responded fervently.
The Head Priest laughed, madness gleaming in his eyes. Witches could sway kingdoms, their presence enough to ignite wars. Capturing them, along with William as their lord's vessel, was a blessing beyond measure.
But this island's usefulness was ending. Tomorrow's ritual would consume every remaining villager. Then they'd move elsewhere, repeating their bloody devotion until the Winged Lord returned in glory.
Imagining the power soon within his grasp, the Head Priest's laughter echoed chillingly across the darkened island.