As the final character faded, silver-white waves surged across the surface of the Ship's Log and poured into Byron's body. A gentle warmth swept through him, soothing the scars on his soul like a mother's embrace. It was as if spring wind and rain had nourished his spirit, restoring something deeply fractured.
A thunderclap echoed inside. In that instant, Byron heard the hoarse voice of a Northland Bay seafarer chanting a battle hymn—rough, briny, and ancient.
"The sails caught wind and flew like wings
Death roared from the helm
No mercy for the enemy
Iron keels split their hulls
The ship pitched,
Sank into the sea's dark heart..."
Deep within, a seed took root and burst to life. It pulled his consciousness from his mind, expanding, flowering, fruiting—until his senses reached a mortal's peak. He felt like a seasoned sailor, gripping the rigging, wind in his hair, pulse in rhythm with the tide. Sail, ship, and sea—his body resonated with it all.
Time warped—both fleeting and endless. Then, the chant roared again:
"I wear my scars with pride
Broke through my prison
My soul rose to the stars
Drank beneath my homeland's fire
Raise your cups, warriors!
May the Northland thrive!"
Boom! A stone hatch burst open overhead. Byron, like a deep-sea fish leaping to sunlight, emerged into the world anew. It was the same primal leap the first creatures made onto land, and with it, Byron found a foundation in his soul—a fulcrum for life itself.
His spiritual awakening had arrived.
In that moment, Byron felt a third eye open—one that pierced illusions, revealing truth. A third hand, invisible yet nimble, untied his bindings with a mere thought. Unlike the commoners, who were mostly illiterate and mystically blind, Byron had been raised in a royal family. He had received education and arcane knowledge since youth. He adapted instantly.
Spiritual awakening, he realized, was like growing a magical organ—unseen, untouchable, but the very source of all supernatural power and the key to joining the world's hidden orders. But he knew this was only the beginning.
Humanity, born from dust, was never meant to wield power from beyond. Every step up the supernatural ladder was a transgression against fate. To truly master it, one had to anchor themselves to the origin of power—binding their essence to a law beyond mortality.
Byron's spiritual vision fully opened. He saw it at once: a vast silver web stretched across the world, touching every land and sea—the Silver Law. It was the source of all sanctioned supernatural might, the framework from which the Ladder of Glory descended.
As he prepared to anchor himself, a problem arose.
The first layer of the Silver Law—the entry point for all who awakened—was impossibly distant, unreachable. The Law rejected him. He wasn't of this world, not entirely. An outsider, an anomaly.
But Byron knew what to do.
"I am Byron Lancaster," he whispered to the void.
He defined himself, accepted his duty, and cast his anchor. At once, the resistance vanished. The pure spiritual glow condensed into a ribbon of light shaped like an anchor and latched onto the Silver Law's first tier, stabilizing his existence.
He became a node in the great net. Knowledge and experience from the Law flowed into him. True power surged through his soul.
Sublimation complete.
Though the transformation took mere moments in the real world, Byron emerged changed. He exhaled, bubbles rising. Azure eyes now glowed coldly with spiritual fire. He refocused on the man-eating sharks before him.
Through his spiritual vision, they appeared grotesque. Wailing red ghosts clung to their flesh, their limbs like twisted tumors—souls of past sacrifices absorbed by some cruel, possession-based power.
Most awakenings drew power from one's greatest need. It didn't always give strength in battle, but it always gave the means to survive.
Just like his own gift: Cognitive Correction.
Byron no longer evaded. Instead, drawing on the Law's knowledge, he activated his newly acquired ability. His spirit resonated with his body. Ripples spread from his blood, glowed in his ocean-blue eyes, and exploded outward.
"Roll!"
A sudden pulse shook the waters.
The lead shark, moments from biting, recoiled as if it had seen a monster—like a guppy glimpsing a killer whale. It turned and fled in terror. The others followed.
Seizing the moment, Byron kicked off, pulling himself to the rear of the pirate ship. Hidden from view, he broke through the sea's surface and gasped for air. Saltwater streamed from his face. His eyes turned toward the Channel Isles of Hastings. Vengeance burned behind his gaze, but he suppressed it.
He couldn't afford reckless revenge—not yet.
His two lives had merged. He was no longer just the carefree boy or the vengeful heir—he was both, tempered by loss and insight. Dreams meant nothing without power.
He had to understand the disaster that had destroyed everything. Only then could he challenge a kingdom.
His gaze dropped to the Ship's Log embedded in his right eye. He now understood its true power—the Echo of History.
The Captain could record and relive the past, uncovering hidden truths. These revelations offered either spiritual evolution or exclusive traits. Once written, they shaped reality.
Impact ranged from local (1-10) to global (30+). The Shadow of the Red and White Rose War held a 31% historical impact—continental in scale. Its feedback was immense.
Dark blue ink bled across the cover in strange, ancient script.
"Write the truth and never lie."
Though it bore the solemnity of a historian's creed, Byron knew the log wasn't sentient. It couldn't speak. It simply obeyed.
But as Byron awakened, so did the diary—unlocking memories from his past life as Luo Yi. All text was now rendered in Chinese characters, clear only to him.
The diary's writing shifted to match his style.
Captain: Byron Lancaster
Bloodline: Beidiwanmin—direct descendant of the Dragonblood Bather, the Blue Dragon King Reinhard, founder of the ancient North Sea Empire
Proverb: Revenge must be taken
Title: The Last Lancaster
Son of Prince Edmund Lancaster of Thornburg, once seventh in line to Hastings' throne—now a survivor, a ghost, a revenger.
The title gave him bonuses when interacting with anything tied to Hastings, Northland, dragons, or his bloodline.
Legend: 12
Rumors of his survival were already stirring in Hastings. He had no time for fantasy—only escape.
Spirituality: 1
He awakened at seventeen, without potions or catalysts. Not a genius, but far beyond the average.
Occupation: None
Class: None
Crew: None
Talents:
Cognitive Correction: Simulate predators, prey, kin—can even mimic others, perfect for escape.
Weather Intuition: Animal-like sensitivity to weather—granted by fading royal dragonblood.
Even a cutlassfish smelled more noble than him. His bloodline wouldn't save him.
Knowledge:
Storm Swordsmanship—knight-level martial arts training
Navigation, gunnery, musketry—top graduate of the Royal Naval College
Law and Natural History—access to elite knowledge for survival
Ancient Hittite and Runic scripts—keys to the supernatural
Each category tied to a sequence on the Ladder of Glory. Even with his fall, Byron's options far exceeded most.
Secret: Shadow of the Red and White Rose War
Deciphered: 11%
Historical Impact: 31%
Additional Entry: Historical Modifier (inactive)
Special Note:
No one survives the sea on flesh alone.
Captain, secure a ship or join a crew.
Your true journey begins now.
Begin your Navigation Log.
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