Chapter 195. Anomalies and Return
Day 86 I tri to rite like Captain.
Mornin we eet biskits and otmill. Lurnch we eet meet can and mushrum feesh soup. Nite we eet fry fish and fry banana.
I play game with sailers and lost 2400 to litel Jak. I rite here.
Captain is sick today. I paatrol for him.
Dipp held his breath and concentrated intensely as he wrote each letter. Once he inked the final dot on his diary entry, a sigh of relief escaped his lips.
The letters on the page were crooked, and the words differed in size, but it was a notable achievement for Dipp, who had never received formal education.
"Writing is so hard. It's way harder than exploring islands," Dipp grumbled.
After locking away the diary that looked strikingly similar to Charles' own, Dipp turned around and waved through the group of gambling sailors. He stepped into the narrow corridor and began his daily patrol of the ship.
Heeding Charles' instructions, Dipp meticulously inspected every nook and cranny of the Narwhale—from the kitchen to the fuel and water compartments and the deck. This was the task that Charles had entrusted to him, and he had to complete it to his best ability.
After completing his rounds, Dipp arrived at the captain's quarters, and he gently pushed the door open to enter the room.
"Captain, the daily patrol's done," Dipp reported with a hint of pride as he addressed Charles, who was clutching his forehead with a pained expression.
"Thank you. I should be better by tomorrow," Charles answered in a raspy voice.
Dipp hurriedly waved the gratitude away and replied, "It's alright. No worries. We're just a few days away from Hope Island. Feel free to leave the daily patrolling of the ship to me. Rest well, Captain."
Just as he turned to leave, a weak "wait" echoed from behind him.
Dipp turned around and aided a frail Charles to sit up on the bed. Looking into Charles' bloodshot eyes, Dipp asked, "Captain, what's the matter?"
Charles remained silent for a moment before he questioned, "Have you allowed 096 to create a persona in your mind?"
The corners of Dipp's lips twitched slightly in guilt before they curved upward into an awkward smile. "No. How is that possible? You know I—"
"Enough," Charles interrupted. "Stop pretending. You can't hide it from me. When did it happen?"
Realizing that there was no way he could keep up the act, Dipp rubbed his neck sheepishly and admitted, "It's nothing much. A band of rogues showed up on Hope Island last year with plans for a major heist. During our clash, I might have kept the mask on a little too long."
Charles gave Dipp a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "Elizabeth knows someone who can concoct an elixir capable of erasing persona. Seek them out when we get back."
Before Dipp could utter a word, his expression swiftly turned icy, and his eyes burned with a mix of fury and desperation.
"Captain, do you really want to erase me? He's Dipp, and so am I!"
"No, you are not. You are merely a byproduct of that relic," Charles' voice was laced with an icy coldness.
Taken aback by the bluntness of Charles' words, Dipp's eyes widened in disbelief. After a moment of silence, he said, "Alright, Captain. If that's your command, then I'm willing to follow through with my life!"
Hearing this, Charles gritted his teeth. Dipp's alternate persona was still Dipp. It made him feel like he was ordering the death of his own crew member. His headache, which had slightly eased, started to intensify again.
Dipp's expression then returned to normal before he hurriedly explained, "Captain, we can discuss this again later. I actually get along pretty well with Walker and Jim."
Charles let out a soft, incredulous laugh. "So, there's actually more than one."
He now deeply regretted entrusting the 096 to the young sailor. Even though he had previously warned the young man to handle the relic carefully, it still led to the current complications.
"Captain, this is just a minor issue; the three of us can handle it. But what should we do about your current condition?"
Charles let out a weary sigh. "I'll manage. You may leave."
Dipp's concerned gaze lingered on Charles until he left the room. As the door closed behind the young sailor, Charles mustered all the strength in him to stand up. He then made his way unsteadily to the mirror on the cabin wall.
His haggard reflection stared back at him—an unkempt beard and bloodshot eyes that were a testament to the countless sleepless nights he suffered.
Ever since he left that V12 island, there had been something wrong with his mind.
It started with the return of those haunting murmurs that had eluded him for so long. Soon after, excruciating headaches and auditory hallucinations began to plague him.
Charles was no expert in mental maladies, but he could still discern that Anna's tentacle wouldn't last for much longer. Just the previous day, he had almost lost himself to that enticing illusion again.
"I'm still a little too impulsive," Charles muttered to himself. "Perhaps I should have resolved this problem before embarking on another voyage."
He initially thought that Anna's tentacle would be the cure. But evidently, the Divinities' Curses weren't easily resolved. While his symptoms might have been manageable on land, they intensified significantly when he was out in the vast waters for a prolonged duration.
Just then, Charles' surroundings started to warp again. Clenching his teeth, he braced himself to endure the distortion. He repeatedly reminded himself that it would only last for half an hour. He only had to ride out the thirty minutes, and everything would return to normal.
Inside his skull, the squelching noise of the tentacle reverberated, its tempo alternating between frenetic and sluggish as if evading some unseen foe.
Suddenly, a sharp, tearing pain emanated from deep within Charles' left ear. A black tentacle wriggled its way out of the depths of his ear.
It was Anna's tentacle. The tendrils on it were covered in a pale-gray translucent coating. With a swift flick, the tentacle flung the translucent layer away; its raw, pockmarked scars beneath were now displayed before Charles.
What was once a tentacle covered in gray tendrils now had only a few remaining. It was scarred and battered as though something in Charles' brain had been relentlessly gnawing at it.
After shaking off the gelatinous substance, the tentacle slowly retraced its initial path and burrowed its way back into Charles's skull. The moment it settled within the confines of his skull, the torment in his head dissipated instantly. The only sound remaining in the room was Charles's labored breathing.
However, Charles was far from feeling relieved. Staring at the jelly-like substance on the floor, he muttered. "Damn it. What in the world is happening inside my head?"
***
The docks of Hope Island buzzed with activity. The island's de facto leaders stood in a single file and waited in silence.
Only one reason could elicit such a grand welcome: the anticipated return of the island's Governor on his exploration vessel. Under the watchful gazes of everyone, the Narwhale majestically entered the dock.
With a dark expression, Charles leaped off the ship. Leonardo and his entourage hurried forward to welcome him.
"Governor," Leonardo began. "Upon hearing of your return, the various islands have already sent their envoys over. They have been waiting for quite some time and are eager to meet with you. Should I—"
"Have them wait. Let's talk after I'm done with the important matters," Charles cut Leonardo off without breaking his stride and headed directly toward the Divine Light Order's cathedral.
Leonardo turned around to see Dipp descending the ship's plank. He immediately inquired, "The Governor doesn't seem too pleased. Did you guys run into some trouble on the trip?"
Dipp arched an eyebrow and gave him a sideways glance. "Don't be nosy. Captain had issued a gag order. Anyone who dares to utter a word will be thrown into the sea to feed the sharks."
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