Chapter 691.3: The Mega Coincidence |
The sea, swallowed by night, grew quiet. As though sensing the prelude to a storm, even the waves lapping at the bow became cautious.
It felt like the time had almost come.
While patrolling the deck, Dilrang patted Mojave on the shoulder and turned to enter the cargo hold. Not long after, the drafty hatch echoed with blood-pumping bluster and a chorus of forceful shouts in response.
The man seemed to be giving a final wartime mobilization.
But to Mojave’s ears, it sounded no different from last words.
They had no idea what kind of monster their opponent really was. They were still fantasizing that once they set foot on the docks, everything would be settled, that as soon as gunfire rang out, those weak blue gophers would scurry back into their holes.
Feeling the silver pendant on his chest, he silently prayed to the Silvermoon Goddess, hoping that when he inevitably fell into the water later, he wouldn’t be eaten by the mutants lurking nearby.
Tucking the pendant back beneath his collar, Mojave took a deep breath and walked toward the bow. As usual, Singer followed closely behind him, clearly with no intention of giving him a moment alone.
Mojave didn’t mind. After all, it wasn’t time yet. Even if he wanted to risk jumping ship, he would have to wait until they were closer to the port, not here.
But just then, he frowned, a soft murmur of surprise escaping his lips. “Strange…”
The sound didn’t escape Singer’s notice. He asked impassively, “What is it?”
Mojave swallowed, glanced at him, and lowered his voice as he spoke his concern. “I don’t see any patrol boats.”
Singer frowned. “Patrol boats?”
“The Southern Archipelago Federation’s patrols,” Mojave explained.
Singer relaxed his brows and returned to his indifferent expression. “Why care about them?”
Mojave froze for a moment, then looked away from his face and back toward the sea, muttering quietly, “That’s true, it’s none of their business… Still, this is unusual. Whenever ships passed through here before, they’d always come over to take a look, check for smuggling or something.”
Had the New Alliance forbidden them from patrolling here? That seemed unlikely…
For some reason, a deep unease crept into Mojave’s heart, like being watched by a beast. Acting on instinct, he let go of the railing and retreated from the bow back toward the cargo hold.
Almost at the same moment he reached it, a violent shudder suddenly surged up from beneath his feet, accompanied by a deafening boom that nearly threw him off balance.
The cargo ship seemed to have struck something, but Mojave knew the stretch of water was perfectly safe, there were no reefs lurking beneath the waves to ambush passing ships.
Caught off guard by the impact, Singer behind him and the nearby soldiers weren’t so lucky.
Not being professional sailors, they were all thrown into disarray. A few unfortunate ones leaning against the rail even screamed as they fell into the sea.
Those screams, swallowed by the sound of the waves, vanished quickly, like something had grabbed hold of them.
Faced with the sudden disaster, Mojave was terrified out of his wits. He clutched his head and lay trembling on the deck.
Not far away, the cargo hold hatch flew open. Dilrang burst out holding a gun, one hand on his head, shouting curses as he yelled, “Damn it, what happened?!”
Looking past his legs, Mojave finally saw clearly the so-called specters that haunted the Poro Province. They were soldiers carrying Eviscerator rifles, with a few bearing submachine guns and automatic rifles slung across their chests.
But none of that mattered anymore.
They, too, were sprawled all over the place. Though not in full panic, they stared around in confusion, unsure how to respond to what was happening.
Singer, who had struggled back to his feet, cursed as well. He grabbed Mojave by the collar and yanked him up, glaring at him as he shouted, “Damn you! Did you tip off the New Alliance?!”
Mojave wailed miserably, “Are you joking, sir? When did I ever leave your sight?”
Realizing that seemed to be true, Singer ground his teeth and let go of his collar.
Staggering back a couple of steps, Mojave braced himself against the cargo hold to keep from falling. He forced himself to steady his ragged breathing, trying to calm his panicked mind.
He more or less understood what had happened.
Whatever hit them just now was probably a torpedo.
Through the vibrations traveling along the deck and bulkheads, he could clearly feel the sound of seawater flooding into the hull. The fully loaded cargo ship was slowly sinking.
But he didn’t immediately jump ship, because he still didn’t know what had hit them.
The New Alliance?
Impossible… Those people had their principles. They would never proactively attack civilian vessels.
The Southern Archipelago Federation? Even more impossible, unless they planned on living in complete self-sufficiency.
Damn it, what the hell is it?!
That torpedo can’t possibly have been something the mutants created on their own, can it?!
As fear and shock churned inside him, the others aboard finally realized the ship was taking water.
At the same time, the second cargo ship behind them also appeared to have been hit by a torpedo, slowly sinking amid violent shuddering and the mournful groan of steel.
There was no time left to hesitate.
Seeing that if they waited any longer his men might drown in the hold, Dilrang clenched his teeth and roared decisively, “Abandon ship! Everyone assemble on the north shore!”
Upon receiving the order, everyone rushed out of the hold and leapt into the sea like dumplings.
Fortunately, they weren’t far from shore. The distance was less than 50 meters. A short swim would get them there.
Seeing that no one had time to pay attention to him, Mojave was about to jump into the sea amidst the chaos.
But just as he reached the listing rail, a sight he would never forget in his life burst into view.
Staring at that hellish scene, Mojave’s face went deathly pale in an instant. His legs gave out and he collapsed to the deck. Incoherent babblings about monsters and demons escaped his lips.
Dilrang, who had moments earlier ordered the men to abandon ship, was hardly in better shape.
He gripped the cold railing with both hands, eyes wide as he stared at the sea. In his bloodshot pupils was written an unmistakable terror and despair. It was a despair visible to the naked eye.
