Chapter 153. Airship
Everyone widened their eyes in shock at the sight of the haunting shade of red on the fishing line.
Earlier, they could console themself with the thought that there might be other explanations for the elderly woman's disappearance. However, the blood-stained fishing line was irrefutable evidence that shattered their comforting illusions.
It was clearly dangerous—no, deadly—up there, beyond the rift.
Picking up the fishing line, Charles turned to Hunn and inquired, "How strong are those two young lads?"
"Level 2. Level 3 with those relics."
Charles replayed the earlier scene of the fishing line in his mind. In a mere two seconds, it jerked, snapped taut, and then abruptly went slack. This suggested that the combat power of whatever was lurking on the other end far surpassed that of the two young men.
They were overpowered so swiftly that they couldn’t even retaliate.
As Charles' brows knitted together in frustration, the Divine Light Order disciples around him were seized by mounting panic. Their once unshakeable faith was beginning to crumble.
"Has our Light God abandoned us?"
"No wonder the legends speak of the divine light's warmth being lethal. Our Light God has forsaken us! He forbids us from entering His Kingdom!"
"My Lord, are we not worthy to live in Your holy kingdom?"
As doubts and accusations swelled in a clamorous din, an abrupt thunderous roar silenced all voices in its wake.
"Enough!"
It was Cardinal Bishop Hunn's voice. Gone was his aged demeanor, replaced by a raging aura so palpable that his silvery white bread and hair seemed to tremble in the air.
Taking the staff handed over by his attendant, he surveyed the gathered believers before him.
"We've finally found the Land of Light after searching for so many years," Hunn's voice boomed loud with authority. "Are we going to give up just because of a minor setback?"
Cardinal Bishop Hunn's commanding presence was undeniable as it immediately quelled the pervasive panic within the disciples.
"Brethren! Where is your unwavering faith in our Light God? What have you been praying for all this time? Even if our Lord denies us, as true believers, we must do everything in our power to stand before Him and beg for His forgiveness!"
Noticing the unwavering resolve in Hunn's eyes, Charles couldn't help but wonder how they would respond when they truly lay their eyes on the sun.
Perhaps the firmer their resolve now, the greater their despair later?
Seeing that the crowd had been pacified, Charles approached Hunn. "I think sending more people up would be futile, too. Do you have any other plans?"
Hunn stroked his silvery white beard and replied with an air of confidence, "Governor Charles, fret not. A minor challenge like this is not a problem to worry about. Holy warriors, bring forth the Sky Battler."
A group of towering, burly individuals emerged from the crowd and sprinted toward the glimmering golden colossal ship anchored to the shore.
Soon enough, Charles saw the true identity of the Sky Battler. It was a vessel about the size of S.S. Mouse, spanning about thirty meters in length. Though its appearance resembled a cargo ship, it was evidently light enough such that a hundred men could easily carry it ashore.
Having built the makeshift shelter with much time and effort, the entrance of the Sky Battler had crushed them all under its immense weight.
Charles held his tongue as he stared at the vessel placed before him. He knew that Hunn wouldn't bring a normal cargo ship onto the island for no reason.
The next moment, a large mass of white leather that resembled a deflated balloon was thrown from the ship's deck. Several Divine Light Order disciples approached the white bundle.
They hastily swallowed something before they hurriedly made a small incision in the leather and then profusely vomited into it.
The sharp tang of stomach acids permeated the air. However, as the balloon began to inflate, Charles recognized their plan: The Sky Battler was an airship.
As the airship began to wobble and levitate off the ground, Hunn rapidly selected a group of over twenty individuals to board. While their heights and genders varied, each one of them sported a white triangle on their forehead. A formidable-looking woman was appointed the leader of the group.
Charles intuitively sensed that the assembled group possessed significant combat strength.
Wielding his staff, Hunn touched it against the white triangle on each of their foreheads. "Remember, my brethren," Hunn said. "The information from above is more valuable than your own life. Even if you perish, you have to bring news back down."
"Understood, Your Eminence!" They chorused and bowed with a hand placed on their forehead.
Under the silent gazes of thousands, they donned the black leather suits and formed an orderly line to board the Sky Battler.
Just as the followers on the ground were preparing to cut the ropes that kept the airship from ascending, Charles suddenly raised a hand to stop them.
"Wait. I'm going with you guys this time."
Charles' sudden declaration left everyone stunned as they wondered if he had gone crazy. He clearly knew how dangerous it was up there, yet he still chose to face them.
The Narwhale's crew members were the first to voice their objections.
"Mr. Charles, you can't go. It's too dangerous up there."
"Captain, why not I go in your stead? What will become of this island if something happens to you?"
Anxiety crossed the faces of everyone. They really didn't want Charles to risk his life. Only Laesto remained silent, for he knew that no amount of persuasion would change Charles' mind.
"First Mate, Second Mate, take care of things down here and wait for my return," Charles instructed before he took a running leap, kicked against the ship's hull, and propelled himself onto the Sky Battler.
Charles felt an intrinsic need to personally witness what lay beyond the rift.
The agony of waiting on the ground for news was too much to bear. He also believed that his modern knowledge would be invaluable, whether the danger presented itself in the form of the Foundation's defense measures or as any terrestrial threats.
Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, the airship gradually ascended and floated toward the blinding bright light shining through the rift. As their altitude increased, the sunlight grew ever more intense. Even though Charles came prepared with his sunglasses, he still found the light piercing.
However, the piercing light wasn't an issue. The critical concern in Charles' mind was the rising temperature.
If the temperature on Hope Island was moderate at about 25°C, it was now quickly climbing toward 40°C.
Beads of sweat started to pool on Charles' forehead before trickling down his face. A gnawing anxiety twisted in his guts.
It was already this hot down here, so how high would the temperature be above the earth's surface?
Any fantasies Charles harbored about polar landscapes bathed in the perpetual glow of the midnight sun were ruthlessly shattered by this point. It was impossible that the Arctic or Antarctica could radiate such intense heat. Clearly, some calamity had befallen the surface world.
When the airship was just mere dozens of meters away from the fissure, something in the distance caught Charles' attention.
He squinted to get a better look, only to discern that it was half a corpse of the elderly woman gruesomely embedded into the dome's rocky terrain.
Her black latex suit was torn to shred, and her body was mangled like a discarded rag doll.
Charles wasn't the only one who saw it. The other Divine Light Order followers on the deck caught sight of it as well. Their grips on their weapons and relics tightened in preparation.
Just as the airship was about to penetrate through the crack, a shadowy figure shot out from the side. The next moment, the airship jerked violently as the unmistakable sound of escaping air hissed from above.
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