บท 66: Counting Souls
The morning air was thick with humidity as Jacob stood atop the newly constructed watchtower, his gaze fixed on the horizon where dark clouds gathered ominously. The storm was still hours away, but its presence was a looming reminder of the urgency of their situation. Below him, the camp buzzed with activity. Men moved with purpose, hauling supplies, erecting defenses, and carving a path through the dense jungle toward the ships grounded in the bay.
Garrett climbed the ladder to join him, wiping sweat from his brow. "The men are making good progress," he reported. "We've cleared about half the distance between the camp and the ships. At this rate, we'll have a secure route by nightfall."
Jacob nodded thoughtfully. "Good. But we can do better."
Garrett raised an eyebrow. "What's on your mind, Captain?"
Jacob glanced at the encroaching storm clouds. "We need to accelerate our efforts. The jungle is our greatest obstacle—and our enemy's greatest ally. If we can clear more of it before the storm hits, we'll have a defensible perimeter and a clear line of sight."
"Clearing the jungle is no small task," Garrett cautioned. "We've already got the men stretched thin."
A glint of determination flashed in Jacob's eyes. "What if we burn it?"
Garrett stared at him, momentarily taken aback. "Burn it? The whole jungle?"
"Not the entire jungle," Jacob clarified. "But the areas surrounding our camp and along the path to the ships. Controlled burns to eliminate cover for the natives and expedite our clearing efforts."
Garrett considered the proposal. "It's risky. Fire can be unpredictable, especially with the winds that precede a storm."
"Which is why we need to act quickly and carefully," Jacob replied. "We can use the ale reserves and gunpowder to ignite the densest areas. The storm will work in our favor, providing the rain to extinguish the flames before they spread beyond control."
"Using our ale and gunpowder..." Garrett mused. "The men won't be pleased about sacrificing their drink."
Jacob offered a wry smile. "They'll understand when it ensures their survival."
"Very well," Garrett agreed. "I'll inform the officers and begin preparations."
"Before you do, consult with Cedric," Jacob added. "I want his assessment of the storm's timing. We need to be certain."
"Understood," Garrett said, descending the ladder.
Jacob remained atop the watchtower for a moment longer, allowing himself a brief respite. He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, reaching out with his senses. The ambient energy of the island pulsed faintly—an undercurrent of power that both intrigued and unsettled him.
Since their arrival, he had felt a growing resonance with the negative energy that permeated this land. It was similar to his own necromantic abilities but carried a wild, untamed essence. The souls he had absorbed in recent days had increased his power, and he could feel the boundaries of his mind expanding, his curses more potent than ever.
But with that power came a creeping numbness—a detachment from the emotions that once guided him. The deaths of his men, the relentless pressure of leadership, the looming threats—they weighed upon him, yet he felt an eerie calmness rather than the expected anxiety or grief.
Descending the watchtower, Jacob made his way to his tent. Inside, he sat cross-legged on the ground, centering himself. The familiar interface of the mysterious system materialized in his mind.
Soul Count: 175/300
He was edging closer to the threshold of Level 5. The prospect of unlocking new abilities was tempting, but he was acutely aware of the cost.
"At what point does the pursuit of power become a descent into darkness?" he whispered.
The flap of the tent rustled as Cedric entered, his weathered face thoughtful. "You wanted to see me, Captain?"
Jacob looked up. "Yes, Cedric. I need your expertise. How long until the storm reaches us?"
Cedric stroked his gray beard. "I'd say we've got until late afternoon before the first bands hit. It's moving steadily but not rapidly."
"Can we count on the rain to douse any fires we set by then?"
Cedric nodded slowly. "In theory, yes. The humidity is high, which will help control the spread. But we'd need to be precise in our timing."
"Understood," Jacob said. "We're planning controlled burns to clear the jungle around the camp and along the path to the ships. Your guidance will be crucial."
"I'll assist in any way I can," Cedric affirmed. "But be mindful—fire is a fickle ally."
"Indeed," Jacob agreed. "Gather the men who will oversee the burns. We'll need to coordinate closely."
As Cedric left to make arrangements, Jacob stepped back outside. The camp was a hive of activity, but an undercurrent of tension was palpable. The men were pushing themselves to the limit, their faces etched with fatigue and wariness.
He spotted Kofi organizing supplies near the central fire. Approaching him, Jacob placed a hand on his shoulder. "How are we faring with resources?"
Kofi looked up, his eyes reflecting concern. "We're managing, Captain. But the use of ale and gunpowder for the burns will deplete our reserves significantly."
"It's a necessary sacrifice," Jacob replied. "Once we've secured the area, we can focus on replenishing our stores."
Kofi hesitated before speaking. "The men respect you, Captain. But they're weary. A gesture to boost morale might go a long way."
Jacob considered his words. "You're right. I'll address them before we begin."
Climbing atop a stack of crates to gain visibility, Jacob called out, "Gather round, men!"
The crew assembled before him, curious and expectant.
"We've faced many challenges since setting foot on this island," Jacob began. "You've worked tirelessly, fought bravely, and shown unwavering determination. I know you're exhausted. I know the sacrifices you've made."
He paused, meeting the eyes of those before him. "Today, we take a decisive step toward securing our future here. We'll be conducting controlled burns to clear the jungle that threatens our camp and our connection to the ships. It's a bold move, but one that will give us the advantage we need."
Murmurs rippled through the crowd.
"I won't ask you to give more than you have," Jacob continued. "But I will ask you to stand with me, as you have before. Together, we'll turn this land into a fortress—a haven that no enemy can breach."
A cheer rose from the men, subdued at first but growing in strength.
"Once the storm passes and our work is done, we'll celebrate properly," Jacob promised. "For now, let's see this through."
With renewed vigor, the crew dispersed to their tasks. Barret and Kofi organized teams to distribute the ale and gunpowder strategically along the designated areas. Cedric provided guidance on wind patterns and the best timing for ignition.
As the sun reached its zenith, Jacob and Garrett stood at the edge of the jungle, torches in hand.
"Ready?" Garrett asked.
Jacob nodded. "On my mark."
They moved along the perimeter, setting the underbrush alight. Flames crackled to life, consuming dry leaves and branches. Smoke curled upward, and the fire began to spread in a controlled line.
Men with shovels and wet sacks stood by to manage the burn, ensuring it did not deviate from its intended path. The heat intensified, and the air filled with the scent of charred wood.
"Keep it moving!" Barret shouted, directing efforts to maintain control.
The fire advanced steadily, devouring the dense foliage. Hidden within the jungle, the creatures of the island fled from the encroaching flames—birds taking to the sky, animals scurrying to safety.
From his vantage point, Jacob watched as the wall of fire carved a swath through the jungle. The sight was both awe-inspiring and unsettling.
"Captain!" a voice called out.
Jacob turned to see Renard approaching at a brisk pace. "We've spotted movement beyond the fire line—natives observing us."
Jacob's eyes narrowed. "Are they making any moves?"
"Not yet," Renard replied. "But they're agitated."
"Keep a close watch," Jacob ordered. "If they attempt to interfere, be prepared to respond."
As the afternoon wore on, the clouds overhead thickened, casting a gray pall over the landscape. Distant thunder rumbled, a reminder of the approaching storm.
The controlled burns had achieved their purpose. A significant portion of the jungle surrounding the camp and along the path to the ships had been reduced to smoldering ash. The area was now open, providing clear lines of sight and reducing the cover available to potential attackers.
"Well done," Jacob said to the gathered men. "Return to the camp and rest. The storm will be upon us soon."
As the first drops of rain began to fall, Jacob sought the solitude of his tent once more. The rhythmic patter of rain on canvas provided a soothing backdrop as he delved into introspection.
He accessed the system interface.
Soul Count: 175/300
No change since earlier. The absence of conflict today meant no new souls to absorb. Part of him felt relief at that, while another part craved the surge of power that came with each addition.
He pondered the path he was on. The use of his necromantic abilities had been instrumental in their survival, yet he grappled with the moral implications.
"Power is a tool," he mused. "It's how one wields it that defines them."
But was he in control, or was the power beginning to control him?
A flash of lightning illuminated the tent, followed by a crack of thunder. The storm was in full swing now, the rain intensifying.
Jacob closed his eyes, allowing himself to feel the weight of his responsibilities. The lives of his crew depended on his decisions. Every choice carried consequences.
He thought of Briggs, still recovering from the poisoned wound. Of the men who had fallen. Of the natives, defending their homeland against invaders.
"Am I becoming the very thing I once stood against?" he wondered aloud.
A memory surfaced—faint but persistent. A glimpse of his past life, before he found himself in this world. Flashes of a different existence, with different values.
Shaking his head, he refocused. "I can't afford doubt. Not now."
Stepping out into the rain, he let the water wash over him, a symbolic cleansing of sorts.
Garrett approached, hood pulled up against the downpour. "Captain, everything's secure. The men are settling in for the night."
"Good," Jacob replied. "Thank you, Garrett."
"Are you alright?" his first mate asked, concern evident.
"I'm fine," Jacob assured him. "Just taking a moment."
Garrett studied him for a moment before nodding. "Very well. I'll be making rounds if you need me."
As Garrett walked away, Jacob gazed out at the transformed landscape. The fires had been extinguished by the rain, leaving behind a barren expanse that would serve as a buffer against future threats.
He felt a subtle shift within—a strengthening of resolve. The path ahead was fraught with challenges, but he was committed to seeing it through.
"Balance," he reminded himself. "I must find balance."
Returning to his tent, he dried off and settled onto his cot. The storm's fury outside contrasted with the calm that settled over him.
He knew that the natives would not remain passive for long. A confrontation was inevitable. But perhaps there was a way to end the cycle of violence without further bloodshed.
"Perhaps," he thought, "it's time to take a different approach."
As sleep claimed him, Jacob's dreams were a tapestry of shadows and light—visions of power tempered by conscience, of a future shaped by choices yet to be made.
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