Chapter 3: Navigation Log, Silver Law
Clattering...
As the final character etched itself into the "Navigation Log," silver-white ripples radiated from its cover, surging into Byron's being. The warmth, akin to a mother's touch, soothed the wounds within his consciousness, nurturing his soul like a spring breeze. Something ethereal, once confined to the realm of thought, now transcended the boundaries of the spiritual and material worlds.
Amidst the thunder's roar, Byron heard the ancient epic of the Northern Bay people, their voices as coarse as sea salt, singing in his ear:
(You can listen to this epic shanty on youtube right now! just open this URL and look for "Horizon of Glory - A Northland Ballad"
https://www.youtube.com/@BoredIdler
Don't forget to subscribe. There will be more. A lot more.)
Upon the sea, where gales do play,
Our sails unfurl to guide our way.
The helmsman's voice, both fierce and bold,
Commands the waves, in stories told.
Through storms we charge, with hearts ablaze,
Our scars, the marks of ocean's haze.
We break the chains that bind us tight,
And soar to realms of pure delight.
Deep within his soul, a seed took root, sprouted, and flourished, elevating his consciousness from his mind, blossoming and bearing fruit. Byron's breathing, heartbeat, touch, perception—all reached the pinnacle of human potential. He was a seasoned mariner, gripping the taut ropes of full sails, the sea breeze tousling his hair, reveling in the ship's dance upon the waves. Sail, ship, wind, and sea harmonized within his veins.
Time stretched and contracted. The epic's crescendo pierced the air:
So here's to us, the bravest of the brave,
Who face the tempests, but never cave.
Our souls are stitched with threads of the sea,
In its depths, our freedom we finally see.
So raise your cups, to the sea's embrace,
To the Northland's love, we forever trace.
With every scar, a chapter in our tale,
In the heart of the sea, we've found our sail.
Boom! The sound of a stone door being flung open resounded above. A "fish," once entombed in the abyss, now leaped into the light, mirroring the first terrestrial creatures to venture onto land eons ago, beholding the world's splendor and diversity. This leap allowed Byron to elevate his life and status, transcending the ordinary. Spirituality awakened!
Byron now perceived an invisible third eye, granting him "spiritual vision" beyond the naked eye's reach. An intangible, flexible third hand freed him from his bonds with a mere thought. As a scion of royalty, he had access to education and supernatural knowledge from a young age, adapting to this new reality with ease.
"Awakening spirituality is like gaining an invisible, magical organ within, the source of all supernatural powers and the gateway to every mysterious profession!"
Byron understood that awakening was not complete. "In this world, humans are but dust-born, never masters of the supernatural. Each elevation of 'spirituality' is a transgression, fraught with peril. Now, we must commune with the source of human supernatural power, anchoring ourselves to truly wield this great force."
Opening his spiritual vision, he beheld the silver net enveloping the world—the "Silver Law," protector of humanity, wellspring of all orthodox supernatural powers, and the "Stairway of Glory" system derived from it.
Yet, as he attempted to anchor himself, he encountered resistance. The "Silver Law," though theoretically within reach, felt as distant as a thousand mountains. "Is the law resisting me?" Byron, an outsider, sensed the incompatibility. Inspiration struck, and he affirmed his identity: "I am Byron Lancaster!" Embracing his fate and responsibility, he cast the first "anchor" in this world.
The barriers between him and the "Silver Law" dissolved. A ribbon of pure white spiritual light hooked onto the first layer of the law, stabilizing his existence, integrating him into the vast network. Knowledge and experience flowed into him, bestowing true supernatural power. The transformation was complete.
Byron exhaled, watching the bubbles of his breath rise to the sea's surface. His sea-blue eyes, now aglow with azure spiritual light, refocused on the red-eyed sharks. Through his spiritual vision, the sharks, once mere glowing eyes, revealed their true form—enshrouded in wailing red spirits, their limbs like tentacles embedded within, grotesque tumors of control.
"The abilities gained during spiritual awakening often stem from one's deepest desires and needs, potentially turning the tide of battle, such as my 'Cognitive Correction'!"
Byron stood firm, activating his newfound power. Spirituality and flesh resonated, invisible ripples coursing through his veins, bursting forth from his eyes.
"Get lost!!!"
Buzz—
In an instant, the man-eating sharks, poised to strike, scattered as if confronted by an unassailable marine predator—a "killer whale." Seizing the moment, Byron swam with every ounce of strength towards the pirate ship's sterncastle, evading the pirates' sight, and surfaced. Despite his Bay-folk blood granting him exceptional swimming prowess, he had exhausted his oxygen and nearly drowned. He wiped the seawater from his face with a determined gesture and gazed towards the Channel Islands of England. His icy stare flickered, suppressing the urge to return and seek vengeance against the White Rose York family.
The fusion of his two lives had honed his character, transforming the once carefree youth into a more mature and resilient individual. He understood the futility of impractical dreams. While he yearned for a life of freedom, even to perish in the waves, recklessness was not bravery. He needed to unravel the mystery of that disaster and amass the strength to challenge an entire nation.
Byron's gaze shifted to the "Navigation Log" symbiotically residing in his right eye. He had learned of its ability—the Echo of History:
[Allows the "captain" to record and trace back the history of things or events they come into contact with or personally experience, revealing the secrets hidden within. Based on the "historical influence" of these secrets, the captain gains spiritual enhancement or is granted a dedicated entry. Entries, no matter how bizarre, once inscribed in the log, interfere with reality, bestowing true power. Influence ranges from an individual to a village or town [0-10], a city or region to an entire area [10-20], a region to a country [20-30], and beyond 30, it impacts the continent or the world. The secret of the Red and White Rose War, with a historical influence of 31%, has a continent-wide impact, providing substantial feedback.]
Under Byron's watchful eye, deep blue ink inscribed an enigmatic line on the log's ancient cover:
"Write directly, never lie!"
The log, though devoid of intelligence and incapable of communication, adhered to its rules with the integrity of an ancient historian. With Byron's spiritual awakening, the log unlocked memories from his past life, converting text into characters he knew best. The log's style adapted to Byron's reading habits.
Captain: Byron Lancaster
Bloodline: Northern Bay Folk (descendants of the ancient North Sea Empire's founders, the "Dragon Blood Bathers," and "King Title: Blue Dragon King" Reinhardt)
Motto: Revenge is a must!
Title: The Last Lancaster
Son of Prince Edmund Lancaster of Sorenburg, formerly seventh in line to the English throne, now a vengeful man with nothing. This title may bring unexpected benefits when dealing with events related to England, the Northern Bay Folk, dragons, and the Lancasters.
(Some are born as oxen and horses, while you were born in Rome. Every step you take is a step away from Rome, but alas... your great Rome has fallen! Title Effect: Enemy of York, permanently hunted until death. The effect intensifies near England's sphere of influence.)
Legend: [12]
(In a world with prophecy techniques, news of your survival has spread in England. Abandon illusions and flee!)
Spirituality: [1]
(Awakened. Autonomously achieving spiritual sublimation at seventeen without "Awakening Potion" or spices is not extraordinary. Compared to those without supernatural hope, you are already far stronger.)
Profession: Unemployed
Rank: None
Crew: None
Innate Abilities:
[Cognitive Correction]Awakened based on the strongest wishes and needs during spiritual sublimation. Allows simulation at the cognitive level, impersonating predators, peers, prey, or even replacing another person perfectly.
[Weather Intuition]Animals often surpass humans in senses, especially in detecting weather changes, and now you share this ability. (Additional ability from the royal family's increasingly diluted Blue Dragon blood after centuries. Don't fantasize about returning to your ancestral bloodline and reaching the pinnacle of life in one step. You don't have that fate.)
Knowledge:
Storm Fencing (Your Royal Knight Order training has laid a solid foundation);
Navigation, Artillery, Musketeering, Naval Combat (A top graduate of the Royal Naval Academy, proficient in all sailor duties but lacking experience);
Law and Natural History (Your birth grants a perspective beyond commoners and access to precious knowledge, minimizing supernatural dangers. Be glad you didn't start in hell like a curly-haired baboon);
Rune Script (Knowledge is the source of the supernatural, and ancient scripts are the key);
Each knowledge corresponds to a supernatural sequence under the "Stairway of Glory." Despite your family's fall, you have more choices than most!
Secret: The Shadow of the Red and White Rose War (You've discovered part of this world's truth, with a historical influence of 31% and a decryption rate of 11%.)
Additional Entry: [Historical Revisionist](Not activated)
Special Note:
In this perilous world, no human can cross the sea on physical strength alone. Acquire a ship or join a crew as soon as possible to begin your [Navigation Log]!
Chapter 4: A New Identity
The navigation log lay open before Byron, its contents revealing his abilities and predicament with such clarity that his future path became immediately apparent.
"For me now," he murmured to himself, "enhancing my supernatural power is the top priority."
Among the two innate abilities that he could activate at all times without consuming spirituality, 'Cognitive Correction' stood out as a top-notch survival skill, despite its current limitations and effectiveness only on low-sequence supernaturals.
"And 'Weather Intuition'—a dream skill for any sailor or navigator!" he exclaimed under his breath.
Yet, for escape and revenge, these two innate abilities were far from sufficient.
"I must complete my profession as soon as possible," he resolved, "and at least obtain a rank in a combat-oriented supernatural sequence to have basic self-defense capabilities."
His thoughts turned to the entry bestowed by the log—'Historical Revisionist'—and he knew he needed to activate it.
"Moreover," he added, raising his left hand, "I happen to have a key item that can be used for the profession ritual."
But as he looked down, his heart sank. The family "signet ring" that should have adorned his index finger was missing! Panic rose within him until he noticed the sapphire buttons on his shirt cuffs were also gone. A calmness settled over him as he realized the implications.
"I was rescued by a merchant ship and then captured by pirates," he reasoned. "Expecting them to leave my belongings untouched is just a dream."
After a moment's hesitation, his resolve hardened.
"First, I need to retrieve the personal items looted by the pirates from the 'Maneater,' especially the most important family 'signet ring.'"
He knew this item, imbued with supernatural power and symbolizing the Lancaster family's sovereignty, was crucial for completing the next supernatural profession ritual and blocking any subsequent divination or pursuit by the York family.
"I'll ride the pirate ship to leave the English coastal waters as quickly as possible," he plotted. "Afterward, whether it's venturing into the vast North Sea or heading to overseas colonies, there are countless opportunities waiting for me."
The 'Navigation Log' would be his guide, allowing him to grow quickly by continuously exploring the unknown world.
"It perfectly fits this era of great navigation," he mused, "which has just begun less than a hundred years ago and still has many blanks on the map."
Excluding the self-entrapping path of the navy, other options like privateer captain, pirate, independent adventurer, bounty hunter... were all viable!
Byron grabbed the carved decoration on the stern gallery of the pirate ship and climbed up silently, his movements fluid and purposeful.
At the end of the log, a line of ink wrote: The Lancaster's hatred is hidden for now, but there will come a day when blood and fire sing together.
Meanwhile, in the kitchen located in the lower deck of the "Maneater," a young man wearing a white chef's hat stood frozen in front of the cutting board, a kitchen knife in hand.
Outside the porthole, the screams of the merchant ship's sailors transitioned from high-pitched to weak, then to silence. The young man muttered to himself, his expression bordering on madness.
"I didn't do anything wrong!" he insisted. "The captain insisted on that ridiculous chivalric code, vowing to protect Lord Crawford's property, which was the backbone of the now-defunct Lancaster faction."
He recalled warning the captain that the eight virtues of knighthood were all jokes on the treacherous high seas, and old-fashioned diehards didn't last long.
"If the captain hadn't recklessly led the charge team to counterattack the pirate ship, I wouldn't have shot him in the back," he confessed. "It's said that the captain of the Maneater, 'Blood Eye' Salman, is ruthless and a powerful supernatural. Once he makes a move, everyone dies. Now, at least I've survived, which is completely worth it!"
But as he looked down at the ingredients on the cutting board, panic replaced his momentary relief.
"I'm just an ordinary sailor and part-time cook," he lamented. "Even the crude crew members complain about my cooking skills. How could I possibly know how to prepare exquisite noble dishes?"
He was acutely aware of the England's culinary limitations, knowing that only by going to the neighboring France could he hope to satisfy the palate of the ferocious 'Blood Eye' captain.
"Those pirates said to prepare myself," he fretted, "as they'll soon take me to meet the ferocious 'Blood Eye' to understand his tastes and prepare meals."
His anxiety was palpable as he paced back and forth, the sound of his footsteps echoing ominously on the lower deck.
The young man, the cook from the Pelican merchant ship, was the only one given a chance to survive, as mentioned by the first mate "Bone Crusher" Miles. However, the premise was that he must use his experience of "serving nobles" to conquer the discerning palate of Captain 'Blood Eye' Salman of the Maneater.
Unfortunately, he was just a self-aggrandizing imposter.
The thought of this pirate captain, like the "cannibals" in stories, eating live people, terrified him to the core.
He looked around, finding the kitchen empty, with no pirates paying attention to him.
Gripping the kitchen knife, he approached the porthole, intending to stick his head out to see if he could escape by jumping into the sea. But the fear of the sharks that had devoured his companions made him pull his head back in. His indecision was a vivid testament to his fear.
As the seconds ticked by, the sound of pirates' footsteps echoed ominously outside the kitchen once more. The young man, driven by a surge of desperation, gritted his teeth and cautiously extended his head out of the porthole.
In an instant, a powerful hand, as unyielding as an iron hoop, clamped down on his neck from below the porthole.
Snap!
Without a moment to plead for mercy, his neck was twisted with merciless precision, snapping it.
As the cook's vision darkened and his consciousness began to fade, he heard a cold, emotionless voice declare, "Traitors deserve to die!"
It was Byron, who had just scaled the pirate ship from the stern, overhearing the last survivor of the merchant ship muttering to himself. Without hesitation, he had acted decisively.
Seizing the cook by his broken neck, Byron dragged the upper half of his body out of the porthole. Noticing the kitchen knife still clutched tightly in the cook's hand, Byron realized that had he not been decisive, he might now be nursing an injury.
He snatched the kitchen knife and, with an impassive expression, made several deep cuts on the cook's body before casually discarding the corpse into the sea. He watched dispassionately as the body was engulfed by a swarm of man-eating sharks.
Only then did he turn and climb through the porthole into the kitchen.
He picked up the chef's hat that had fallen to the ground during the struggle, dusted it off, and placed it atop his head. As he turned, a deep blue spiritual light, reminiscent of the sea, emanated from his eyes, and Byron's demeanor transformed in the blink of an eye.
This was his innate ability, 'Cognitive Correction.'
"In this scenario," he mused, "calling it 'Psychological Disguise Technique' might be more fitting."
He examined his hands, which appeared unchanged on the surface, yet now bore the cook's image, name, demeanor, and all his characteristics. To any onlooker, he was the cook, and Byron had seemingly vanished from the world.
It was akin to someone born with red-green color blindness, unaware of their condition until informed by another.
"Though this identity lacks high status, it's on par with the pirate officers—the first mate, second mate, helmsman, and gunnery officer. As a newcomer, like myself, it has no established memories of interactions with the pirates and no need to inherit the original interpersonal relationships. It's the perfect guise for me to blend into the 'Maneater' and hitch a ride."
Bang!
The kitchen door swung open abruptly, and a young-looking pirate stepped inside. He paused briefly upon seeing the figure in the chef's hat before greeting him with a natural ease.
"New cook, the great Captain 'Blood Eye' awaits you. Follow me at once. By the way, I haven't asked your name yet."
Straightening his hat, Byron smiled amiably at the young pirate.
"Byron," he replied smoothly, "my name is Byron Tudor."
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