The echo of Reggie's final moments still lingered in Jacob's mind as he stood on the deck, staring blankly out at the horizon. The crew had dispersed, returning to their duties or seeking solace in the brief moments of respite that the ship allowed. But for Jacob, there was no such solace—only the heavy weight of his new responsibilities.
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the deck, Jacob felt a strange sensation wash over him. It was as if the very air around him had thickened, charged with an energy that he couldn't quite place. His pulse quickened, and before he could make sense of the feeling, a cold, electric shock surged through his body, causing him to stiffen involuntarily.
His vision blurred, and then, as if emerging from a deep fog, a voice spoke in his mind—clear, direct, and utterly emotionless.
[Soul count: 5/10. Progress to next threshold: 50%. Continue accumulating souls to unlock increased mental reserves and enhanced Necrotic Focus.]
Jacob's heart pounded in his chest as he processed the words. He had known the system was a part of him, a strange force that had granted him the ability to curse, but this was the first time it had spoken to him so clearly, so directly.
"What… what happens at ten souls?" Jacob whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of fear and curiosity.
[Upon reaching ten souls, a threshold will be crossed. The souls of the slain will be absorbed, their energy contributing to your mental strength. Your Necrotic Focus will be enhanced, increasing your capacity to wield the power granted by the system.]
Jacob felt a cold sweat break out on his forehead. The idea that he was absorbing the souls of those he had killed was unsettling. He had already been struggling with the moral weight of Reggie's execution, and now this? But at the same time, he couldn't deny the strange sensation of power that accompanied the system's words. His mind felt sharper, his thoughts clearer, and the weariness that had clung to him seemed to have lifted slightly.
"So… the more I kill, the stronger I become?" Jacob asked, still trying to wrap his mind around the concept.
[Correct. Each enemy you slay contributes to your power. The first significant increase will occur at ten souls. The next thresholds will require more souls as your power grows.]
Jacob's hands clenched into fists as the reality of his situation settled over him. His strength was directly tied to the lives he took, and the more he killed, the more powerful he would become. But at what cost? The thought of becoming a monster, driven by the need to kill to grow stronger, chilled him to the bone.
"Is there… is there another way?" he asked, desperation creeping into his voice.
[There are other sources of power. Artifacts, ancient relics, and places of great death can also increase your strength. These sources are rarer, often hidden in dangerous locations, but they can provide significant boosts without the need for further killing.]
Jacob's heart steadied as he latched onto this new possibility. The system's response had given him hope—a way to grow stronger without becoming a mindless killer. If he could find these artifacts, these places of power, he might be able to increase his abilities without sacrificing his humanity.
"Can you… can you guide me to these places?" Jacob asked, his voice steadier now, driven by newfound determination.
[Guidance is limited. I can provide general information when you are near a source of power. Precise locations and instructions must be discovered through your own efforts.]
It wasn't a perfect solution, but it was something. Jacob felt a flicker of determination ignite within him. He could use this power, but he wouldn't let it consume him. There were other ways to grow stronger, and he would seek them out, no matter how dangerous the path.
The system's voice faded, leaving Jacob alone with his thoughts once more. But the knowledge it had imparted stayed with him, a constant reminder of the path he now walked. He was no longer just surviving—he was growing, evolving, and the power he sought was within reach.
But for now, he had more immediate concerns. The island of Isla de los Perdidos awaited, and he still had to ensure the crew's safety and maintain his authority as boatswain. The system's revelations would have to wait until he could find time to explore the island and seek out the sources of power it hinted at.
Taking a deep breath, Jacob steeled himself for the tasks ahead. He had a role to play, and the eyes of the crew—and the captain—were on him. But now, he had a new goal, a new path to follow, and he would not be deterred.
The next morning, Jacob returned to the island with a small contingent of trusted crew members, overseeing the trade of the goods they had looted from the merchant ship. The market square was a bustling hub of activity, with traders and pirates haggling over everything from weapons and food to exotic trinkets and stolen goods. Jacob kept a close eye on the negotiations, ensuring that his men weren't being cheated.
At first, the trading went smoothly. Jacob's presence, along with the disciplined demeanor of his crew, discouraged any attempts at underhanded deals. But as the day wore on, tensions began to rise. A rival crew, led by a scarred and ruthless captain, approached the market square, their eyes fixed on the goods that The Abyss was trading.
It wasn't long before the scarred captain, a man with a cruel grin and a dangerous reputation, confronted Jacob directly.
"Your men are trying to cheat us, boatswain," the scarred captain sneered, his voice dripping with malice. "We had a deal, and now they're trying to back out of it."
Jacob's eyes narrowed as he sized up the situation. He knew that any sign of weakness could lead to an all-out brawl, but he also knew that he couldn't let the rival crew push them around.
"There's no cheating here," Jacob replied evenly, his voice firm. "The deal stands as agreed. If there's a problem, we can settle it like men—or you can walk away."
The scarred captain's eyes flashed with anger, but before he could respond, one of his men—the same who had been dealing with Jacob's crew—spoke up, casting a furtive glance at his captain. "No need for trouble, Cap'n. We'll take what we agreed on."
The tension lingered in the air, but Jacob's firm stance had its intended effect. The rival captain glared at Jacob for a long moment, as if weighing the consequences of pushing further. Finally, with a grunt of displeasure, he motioned for his men to take the goods and leave.
Jacob watched them go, his hand still resting on the hilt of his cutlass. He knew this wouldn't be the last time they would have trouble with rival crews, especially in a place like Isla de los Perdidos. But for now, the situation had been defused without bloodshed, and that was a small victory.
With the trading complete, Jacob turned his attention to another matter—the search for information. The system's mention of artifacts and relics had sparked his curiosity, and he knew that this island, with its long history and hidden secrets, might hold the clues he needed.
After ensuring that the crew rotations were in place and that those staying on the ship were prepared for any trouble, Jacob set off to explore the island. His first stop was one of the larger taverns near the docks, a place where information was as valuable as gold. The tavern was rowdy and dangerous, filled with pirates and smugglers, but Jacob knew that if he wanted to learn more about the island's secrets, this was the place to start.
He ordered a drink and listened carefully to the conversations around him, hoping to overhear something useful. It wasn't long before a hushed conversation at a nearby table caught his attention.
"You hear about the strange lights off the eastern coast?" one man was saying to his companion, a rough-looking sailor with a scar across his face. "Some say it's the work of spirits, others think it's some kind of lost treasure."
"Spirits, eh?" the other man replied with a skeptical grunt. "I don't buy it. More likely it's some kind of trick—maybe a rival crew trying to keep people away from something valuable."
Jacob's ears pricked at the mention of strange lights. It wasn't much, but it was a start. He approached the two men, offering to buy them a round of drinks in exchange for more information.
The men, eager for free ale, were happy to oblige. They spoke of rumors and old legends—stories of ghost ships, hidden islands, and ancient maps that led to places no sane sailor would dare to go. It was clear that much of it was superstition, but Jacob couldn't shake the feeling that there was a kernel of truth hidden among the tall tales.
As the conversation continued, Jacob probed for more details about the island and its history. The men spoke of old ruins hidden deep in the jungle, places that had been abandoned long before the first pirates had arrived. They also mentioned an old cartographer who lived on the far side of the island—a man who was said to have maps of places no one else knew about.
The information was tantalizing, and Jacob knew he had to follow up on it. He paid for the drinks and left the tavern, his mind racing with possibilities. If there were ruins on the island, they might hold clues about the world's true nature. And if the cartographer had maps of unknown places, those could be the key to understanding where he was—and how he might find his way back, if that was even possible.
As Jacob made his way through the island's winding streets, he couldn't help but feel a growing sense of purpose. The weight of leadership was still heavy on his shoulders, but it was balanced by the need to uncover the truth about the world he was in.
The cartographer's home was a small, weathered building on the edge of the jungle, its exterior covered in vines and moss. Jacob knocked on the door, half expecting it to be abandoned. But after a moment, the door creaked open, revealing an elderly man with a long, white beard and sharp, piercing eyes.
"What do you want?" the old man asked, his voice gravelly.
"I've heard you have maps," Jacob replied, keeping his tone respectful. "Maps of places that others don't know about."
The old man studied Jacob for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Aye, I have maps. But they're not for just anyone. You'll need to prove that you're worthy of them."
Jacob frowned, not sure what the old man meant. "And how do I do that?"
The cartographer's eyes gleamed with a mix of amusement and challenge. "There's a place in the jungle—a temple, long forgotten by most. If you can find it and bring back something that proves you've been there, I'll share my maps with you. But be warned—many have tried, and few have returned."
Jacob felt a thrill of excitement mixed with apprehension. The jungle was dangerous, filled with wild animals, treacherous terrain, and who knew what else. But the prospect of finding answers—of discovering the truth about the world—was too tempting to resist.
"I'll find the temple," Jacob said, his voice filled with determination. "And I'll bring back whatever proof you need."
The old man nodded, a hint of approval in his eyes. "Then you'd best prepare yourself. The jungle doesn't take kindly to intruders."
As Jacob left the cartographer's home and made his way back to the ship, he couldn't help but feel that he was on the brink of something important—something that could change everything. The answers he sought might be within his grasp, but the journey to find them would be fraught with danger.
And he knew that he couldn't afford to fail.