Chapter 40: Welcome Aboard, First Mate

Ian meticulously reviewed the ship's provisions one last time: freshwater, rum, hardtack, jerky, cheese, hammocks, a ring sundial, compass, sextant—everything was accounted for.

Myrta had already raised the ship's flag, which fluttered proudly at the top of the main mast, snapping crisply in the wind.

"Captain, the tower is all locked up. Aside from some furniture, there's nothing left behind," Myrta reported, leaping aboard from the shore and addressing Ian, who stood on the quarterdeck.

Ian looked toward the horizon, where sunlight bathed the azure sky and endless sea. With a commanding wave of his hand, he declared, "Hoist the sails! Set sail!"

Responding to his command, the Leviathan raised its anchor, animated ropes unfurling the main sail. Myrta, with the help of the anchor chains, hoisted the foremast sail.

As the propeller thrummed to life, the warship surged forward across the waves, powered by its dual propulsion systems.

Once the Leviathan sailed several nautical miles northwest, away from the coastline, it made a subtle turn, cruising northward along the shoreline.

Ian stared toward the northern horizon, his thoughts drifting back to Storm Cape.

With the Leviathan's speed, they would traverse over a thousand nautical miles in just five or six days to reach their destination. Ian stroked his beard, wondering how Rebecca was faring. Would she even recognize him with this scruffy look?

"Captain! Captain, look over there!"

Myrta's voice echoed from the forecastle, where he stood by the cannon platform, telescope in hand, pointing toward the distant shore.

Ian, whose physique and vision far surpassed Myrta's, turned to where the young man gestured.

A figure, burdened with a backpack, ran along the shoreline near the tower. Even from a distance, Ian could see them waving frantically.

Ian's face lit up with surprise. "Turn her around! Quickly!"

The Leviathan carved a graceful arc through the water, turning back toward the tower.

Gripping the mast, Ian climbed nimbly upward, waving back to the figure while pointing toward the tower's direction.

Most parts of the shoreline were too shallow for ships to approach, but the waters beneath the cliff near the tower were deep enough for docking. The Leviathan performed a sharp turn around the peninsula and glided into the deeper waters below the tower.

A familiar figure stood on the shore—a striking woman in leather attire, with two pistols strapped to her waist. Her face, once scarred, now radiant with a warm smile, caught the light of the setting sun as the sea breeze played with her hair.

Ian caught her gaze and grinned broadly. Another ally joined the crew.

Liya, feeling the warmth of Ian's cheerful demeanor, calmed the small unease in her heart.

She couldn't help but scrutinize the peculiar ship before her. Its speed was astonishing, considering only two sails were raised. Cannons were mounted in the middle of the deck rather than along the sides, and most curiously, the ship seemed devoid of crew—only two figures were visible on board.

The Leviathan eased close to shore, and Ian leaped lightly from the deck, landing before Liya. He extended a hand to her with a welcoming smile. "Welcome aboard, First Mate Liya."

Liya's lips curled into a soft smile as she took his hand lightly. "Pleased to be here, Captain."

Ian glanced at her small backpack. "Is that all you're bringing?"

Liya tilted her chin toward the cliff above.

Just as Ian prepared to climb up, Myrta spoke up. "I'll get it, Captain."

Recognizing Liya, Myrta felt a surge of gratitude. Though she had initially brought him to Ian out of obligation, he still felt indebted to her. Without another word, he leaped ashore and sprinted toward the tower.

Liya blinked in surprise. "Who is he?"

The transformation in Myrta was startling. His stature, demeanor, and even the spiritual aura he exuded were unrecognizable compared to before.

Ian chuckled mischievously. "That's Myrta, of course. You brought him here yourself, remember?"

Liya froze, her expression shifting to one of disbelief. Could this really be the same frail cabin boy she had once escorted—now standing tall and brimming with latent power?

As Myrta soon returned with a wooden chest and a large bundle, Liya scrutinized him more closely, finally spotting faint traces of the boy she once knew.

Placing the luggage at the quarterdeck entrance, Liya quietly asked, "Was he awakened naturally?"

Ian shook his head slightly, suppressing a grin at her astonishment. He knew her disbelief stemmed not only from Myrta's dramatic change but also from the immense gap between their worlds' values.

Liya's thoughts raced. In the Whaling Guild, it had taken two decades to cultivate fewer than twenty extraordinary individuals, most of whom were recruited rather than nurtured. Even with the rare awakening elixirs, the success rate was dismal. How could this transformation be possible in mere days?

She glanced at Ian with a complex expression. Was he truly so frivolous as to waste precious resources on an uncertain cabin boy? Or was there more to him than met the eye?

Ian merely smiled, inwardly amused. Oh, Liya, the surprises are just beginning.

Back on the deck, Ian bellowed, "Set sail!"

The ship sprang to life once more, repeating the seamless process Liya had observed before. She stood by the mainmast, watching the scene in quiet wonder.

Ian hoisted the chest and bundle and called out to Liya, pulling her out of her daze. "Come on, let me show you your quarters. I'll explain everything in time."

Guiding her down the stairs, Ian led her to the first level beneath the main deck. The aft cabin, spacious and well-furnished, had been prepared for her.

Placing her belongings on the floor, Ian began his tour. "The furniture is all fixed in place. The bed is low, but there's a hammock if you prefer it during rough seas."

"The closet has fresh linens and basic supplies. If you need anything else, ask Myrta."

He pointed to a small enclosure in the corner. "That's the bathroom. Freshwater flows from here, treated and purified by me."

Demonstrating the faucet and pedal-operated toilet, Ian explained each feature, but Liya could hardly mask her astonishment.

Clean, spacious quarters with fresh air, freshwater, and even magical lighting—this was no ordinary ship. The contrast between her harsh memories of life at sea and the luxury before her left her speechless.

Finally, she voiced her concern. "Ian, this is wasteful! Ships must reserve enough freshwater for emergencies—you never know where a storm might strand you!"

Ian replied with an amused smile. "Liya, this ship carries a hundred tons of freshwater, and now we're three crew members in total."

"...What?!"