章節 67: The Challenge
The storm had passed, leaving the island refreshed yet tense. The air was thick with the mingled scents of damp earth and lingering smoke from the controlled burns. The newly cleared areas around the camp provided a sense of security, but Jacob knew that the respite was temporary. The natives would not be deterred so easily.
Jacob stood atop the fortified wall encircling the camp, surveying the horizon. The sun cast a golden hue over the treetops, but the beauty of the scene did little to ease his mind. The crew moved purposefully below, reinforcing defenses and attending to their duties with a quiet determination.
Garrett approached, his footsteps barely audible on the wooden planks. "Captain, scouts have reported activity at the edge of the jungle. The natives are gathering."
Jacob's gaze sharpened. "How many?"
"Dozens, perhaps more. They're not attempting to hide their presence this time," Garrett replied. "It seems they want us to see them."
Jacob considered this. "They're making a statement. They want confrontation."
"Agreed," Garrett said. "What's our move?"
Before Jacob could respond, a loud, resonant horn sounded from the treeline—a deep note that echoed across the clearing. The crew paused, eyes turning toward the sound.
"That's new," Jacob remarked.
A figure emerged from the shadows of the jungle, stepping into the open ground between the trees and the camp's fortifications. He was tall and imposing, adorned with ceremonial paint and feathers that denoted his status as a leader. In his hand, he held a long spear decorated with intricate carvings.
Behind him, a line of warriors appeared, weapons at the ready but not raised in aggression. The leader called out in a commanding voice, speaking words that none of the crew understood.
Jacob turned to Kofi, who had joined them on the wall. "Can you make out what he's saying?"
Kofi listened intently. "It's an older dialect, but I believe he's issuing a challenge—calling for our leader to face him."
"A duel," Jacob mused. "He wants to settle this personally."
Garrett frowned. "It could be a trap."
"Possibly," Jacob acknowledged. "But refusing may escalate tensions further."
"Captain, you don't have to do this," Garrett insisted.
Jacob met his gaze steadily. "Yes, I do. This may be our best chance to prevent further bloodshed."
He took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his responsibilities pressing upon him. His resolve solidified. "Lower the gate. I'll meet him."
"At least take an escort," Garrett urged.
Jacob shook his head. "No. This is between leaders."
Reluctantly, Garrett ordered the gate opened, and Jacob stepped out onto the cleared ground. The crew watched anxiously from the walls, weapons at the ready in case of treachery.
As Jacob approached, the native leader stood his ground, eyes piercing and unreadable. When they were a few paces apart, the leader spoke again, his tone firm.
Kofi, who had followed at a distance to translate, called out, "He says his name is Tamu, and he challenges you to single combat to decide who has the right to this land."
Jacob inclined his head. "Tell him I accept."
Kofi relayed the message. Tamu nodded, raising his spear and pointing it toward Jacob in a formal gesture.
"Ask him the terms," Jacob said.
After a brief exchange, Kofi explained, "The duel is to submission or death. The victor's people will claim the right to the land. No interference from either side."
"Understood," Jacob replied.
The two men faced each other, the tension palpable. Tamu began to circle, eyes never leaving Jacob. He moved with the fluid grace of a seasoned warrior, muscles coiled and ready.
Jacob felt a flicker of uncertainty. He was competent with a blade but knew he was outmatched in physical combat. However, he had other advantages. He reached inward, tapping into the necromantic energy that had become increasingly familiar. The ambient negative energy of the island resonated with his own, amplifying his senses.
As Tamu lunged forward, spear thrusting toward Jacob's midsection, Jacob sidestepped, drawing his cutlass in a smooth motion. He deflected the spear, the clang of metal against wood ringing out.
They exchanged blows, Tamu's spear sweeping and jabbing with deadly precision. Jacob parried and dodged, but a few glancing strikes left shallow cuts on his arms.
Realizing he couldn't win through physical prowess alone, Jacob focused his gaze on Tamu, channeling his cursed abilities. He sensed old wounds and lingering pain within the native leader—a scar along his left thigh, a previous injury to his right shoulder.
Concentrating, Jacob whispered an incantation under his breath. His eyes darkened momentarily as he cast a subtle curse to aggravate Tamu's old injuries.
Tamu hesitated mid-strike, a flash of pain crossing his features. He recovered quickly, but Jacob could see the strain. Seizing the moment, Jacob pressed his advantage, forcing Tamu to defend rather than attack.
The duel became a battle of wills as much as of weapons. Jacob intensified the curse, causing Tamu's movements to become labored. The native leader's breaths came heavier, sweat beading on his brow.
"Yield," Jacob said firmly, hoping to end the confrontation without further harm.
Tamu's eyes blazed with defiance. He lunged again, but his injured leg buckled, and he stumbled. Jacob stepped back, lowering his cutlass.
"You fight bravely," Jacob acknowledged. "But this doesn't have to end in death."
Tamu steadied himself, gripping his spear tightly. He spoke words filled with conviction.
Kofi translated from the sidelines, "He says you fight with dark magic—dishonorable tactics."
Jacob felt a pang of guilt but pushed it aside. "Tell him I fight to protect my people, just as he does."
Before Kofi could relay the message, Tamu charged once more, pushing through the pain. Jacob realized that the native leader would not stop until one of them fell.
Determined to end the duel without killing Tamu, Jacob shifted tactics. He sheathed his cutlass and extended his hand, channeling his power more directly. With a focused effort, he cast a more potent curse—not to harm but to incapacitate. Shadows seemed to swirl around his fingers as he whispered the incantation.
Tamu halted abruptly, his body seizing as if gripped by unseen forces. His eyes widened in surprise and fear. The spear slipped from his grasp, and he dropped to his knees, unable to move.
Gasps erupted from both the native warriors and the pirate crew watching from afar. Whispers of awe and trepidation rippled through the ranks.
Jacob approached cautiously. "This duel is over," he declared. "Neither of us needs to die today."
Tamu struggled against the invisible bonds but could not break free. Jacob released the curse slightly, allowing him to speak.
"You wield dark powers," Tamu said, his voice strained. "You bring corruption to this land."
"I seek only to coexist," Jacob replied. "We can find a way to live in peace."
Tamu shook his head. "Your kind brings destruction."
"Perhaps we can change that," Jacob offered. "But only if we stop fighting."
The native leader regarded him for a long moment. "My people will not yield," he warned. "They will fight until the last breath."
Jacob sighed. "Then let this be a warning. I have no desire to harm you or your people, but I will do what is necessary to protect mine."
He released the curse entirely, and Tamu slumped forward, exhausted but unharmed. The native warriors rushed forward, stopping a short distance away, uncertain.
"Take your leader," Jacob said, gesturing to them. "Care for him."
They hesitated but then moved to assist Tamu, lifting him gently.
As they retreated toward the jungle, Tamu cast a final glance back at Jacob. "This is not over," he vowed.
"I know," Jacob replied softly.
Returning to the camp, Jacob was met with a mixture of reactions. Some of the crew looked at him with newfound respect, others with unease.
Garrett approached, his expression conflicted. "That was... something. What did you do out there?"
"I ended the duel without bloodshed," Jacob said tersely.
"By using your... abilities," Garrett pressed. "The men are talking. They're not sure what to make of it."
Jacob met his gaze steadily. "I did what was necessary."
Garrett nodded slowly. "I understand. But be careful. Fear can be a powerful force—both in our enemies and among our own."
"I'll keep that in mind," Jacob replied.
Later, in the solitude of his tent, Jacob reflected on the encounter. Accessing the system interface, he noted that his Soul Count remained unchanged.
He was relieved. Tamu had not died, and thus no soul was absorbed. Yet, the use of his powers had been public, and the implications weighed heavily on him.
"Have I revealed too much?" he wondered.
The crew's murmurs echoed in his mind. He needed to address their concerns.
Emerging from his tent, Jacob gathered the officers. "We need to talk," he began.
They convened around the central fire, the atmosphere tense.
"I know that what happened today has raised questions," Jacob acknowledged. "Yes, I possess certain abilities—gifts that I've used sparingly. I don't expect you to understand fully, but know that I use them to protect us."
Barret "Old Wood" Hawkins spoke up, his grizzled face contemplative. "Magic's a dangerous thing, Captain. Brings trouble more often than not."
"I won't deny that," Jacob agreed. "But it's a tool, like any other. And today, it prevented a needless death."
Kofi nodded thoughtfully. "The natives see such powers as signs of great respect or great fear. It may change how they approach us."
"Either way, we must remain vigilant," Jacob said. "The natives won't back down. We need to strengthen our defenses and prepare for whatever comes next."
Garrett glanced around the group. "The men need reassurance. Morale is fragile."
"I'll speak to them," Jacob promised.
Gathering the crew, Jacob addressed them openly. "I know there are rumors and fears about what you saw today. I won't hide the truth—I have abilities that are uncommon. But I am still your captain, and my priority is your safety."
He scanned their faces, seeing a mix of curiosity, apprehension, and loyalty.
"If any of you have concerns, speak them now," he offered.
A young sailor named Thomas stepped forward hesitantly. "Captain, does this mean we're cursed? That misfortune will follow us?"
Jacob shook his head. "No, Thomas. There's no curse upon you or this crew. We make our own fates."
Renard added his voice. "The captain's led us true thus far. I've no reason to doubt him now."
Murmurs of agreement spread through the crowd.
"Very well," Jacob said. "We have much work to do. Let's focus on strengthening our position and securing our future here."
As the crew dispersed, the tension eased slightly. Jacob knew that trust needed to be rebuilt, but for now, they were united by necessity.
Returning to his quarters, he felt the weight of leadership more acutely than ever. The line between protecting his crew and maintaining his own humanity was growing ever thinner.
"Power tempered with restraint," he reminded himself. "I must walk this path carefully."
The night's silence was broken only by the distant sounds of the jungle—a reminder that the island's mysteries and dangers were far from resolved.
Jacob lay down, his mind heavy with thoughts of the challenges ahead. The natives remained a looming threat, and the balance he sought was more precarious than ever.
As sleep finally claimed him, he knew that the coming days would test not only his leadership but the very core of who he was becoming.
每周推薦票狀態
-- 推薦票
榜單 
-- 推薦票