初次尝了销魂少妇

The elderly captain raised his eyes, locking gaze with his first officer. Both were puzzled by the inconsistent behavior of the bandaged entity before them, which did not align with the documented accounts of the anomaly. Their contemplation was suddenly cut short by the deafening sounds of enormous waterspouts erupting from the adjacent sea and the subsequent blast of the White Oak’s defensive artillery.

Their initial shock quickly morphed into a state of urgency as the “Seagull,” a swift and threatening adversary ship, was rapidly closing in on them.

With an enemy that they could neither outpace nor outmatch in combat, their only chance of escaping this precarious predicament hinged on the “Sailor.” The anomaly’s unique capacity to teleport entire ships presented the only possible avenue for the crew of the White Oak to dodge their imminent catastrophe.

With this stark realization, Lawrence lowered his eyes, closely studying the mummy-like figure that persisted in maintaining its feigned demise, its eyes securely closed. Regardless of the unpredictable elements at play, Lawrence was resolute in his intent to coax the anomaly into assisting them.

“Wake up!” Lawrence cried out, the urgency clear in his voice. He extended his hand, grabbing the collar of Anomaly 077 and shaking it vigorously. The act of physically handling the mummy was deeply unsettling, yet the critical nature of their situation overrode any feelings of revulsion. “I know you’ve managed to escape your seal. You now hold control over this ship. ‘Sailor,’ isn’t the command of a ship innate to you? Isn’t your power typically volatile and unpredictable? Assume control of this vessel. We must vacate this location immediately!”

When subjected to Lawrence’s vehement shaking, the mummy emitted a creaking sound from its rigid joints, though its eyes remained stubbornly sealed. Nevertheless, its chest’s discernible rise and fall was an undeniable indication of its non-dead status. Outside, the escalating chaos characterized by incessant detonations that were perilously threatening the integrity of the White Oak only served to heighten Lawrence’s apprehension. Unable to control his mounting frustration, he smacked the mummy with force, “I know you’re awake!”

Unable to uphold its pretense any longer, the mummy succumbed to Lawrence’s abrasive actions and unveiled its eyes with shuddering tremors. However, its immediate reflex was to avert Lawrence’s penetrating stare, awkwardly shifting its position to one side. Its voice, laced with a sense of irritation, rose in protest, “Stop this! Can’t I simply return to my rest? This isn’t a topic for joking! Do not tamper with the ship, do not dare lay a finger on it!”

Lawrence, however, was unresponsive to the pleading cries of Anomaly 077. The moment he saw the mummy’s eyes flutter open, he took advantage of the opportunity and hoisted it, dragging it towards the helm of the ship. Reacting to the dire situation, some of the crew members also sprang into action. The bravest among them dared to surge forward to offer their assistance. Almost forcibly, they pressed the “Sailor’s” shriveled body against the ship’s steering wheel while the first mate shouted from the background, “Push it onto the wheel! It’s the fastest way to activate its powers!”

Still, Anomaly 077 continued to resist, its screams of desperate protest echoing across the ship, “Let go of me! Let go of me!

“You can’t impose this on me! Someone, save me!

“What kind of monsters are you… I beg of you, please!

“Grab the DAMN WHEEL!” Lawrence roared, exerting his full strength to thrust the mummy’s frail form towards the ship’s steering equipment, “This ordeal will be over before you know it!”

“No! Help! MURDER!!” Anomaly 077 pushed back with an unexpected show of vigor, so potent that several robust crew members of the White Oak struggled to subdue its thrashing limbs. In the heat of its frantic resistance, it tried to glance back towards its earlier resting place, “Permit me to go back! Please, just tie a noose around my neck. I vow to remain motionless. I won’t cause any more disturbance! Or give me the rope, I’ll hang myself… Please, don’t force me to touch this!”

The ship’s bridge had spiraled into complete pandemonium. The unfolding spectacle was uncannily surreal—Anomaly 077, a name that struck fear into the hearts of countless sea captains and sailors, was now begging and writhing like a helpless prisoner bound to the ship. Conversely, the frantic crew of the White Oak was forcibly attempting to guide the “anomaly’s” hands towards the ship’s helm. It was a scene so preposterously bizarre that even the most deranged inmates in an asylum couldn’t have imagined it during their most extravagant delusions. However, this was the bleak and unsettling reality on board the White Oak.

However, Lawrence found himself unable to spare a moment to ruminate on the sheer absurdity of the situation unfolding. His primary focus was the ominous shape of the Seagull steadily drawing closer and the alarming precision of its cannon fire. The starboard side of the White Oak had sustained multiple hits, and an aggressive fire was swiftly consuming the ship’s stern. If the next cannonball struck their engine room, ammunition depot, or even the bridge, it would signify their impending doom!

As this chilling thought raced through his mind, a piercing whistle cut through the air again, sending a wave of dread down Lawrence’s mind.

“This is disastrous!”

An overwhelming explosion consumed the upper deck in the ensuing moment, launching an enormous fireball towards the heavens, its fiery tendrils clawing perilously close to the bridge. The Seagull’s cannon fire had scored a direct hit on the side of the White Oak’s bridge. This strike… was the mortal blow.

The ensuing explosion emerged with a deafening roar. Both metal and glass were shattered into fragments under the devastating impact of the blast. Debris from the destroyed bridge transformed into deadly projectiles, careening wildly in every direction. Lawrence’s vision was momentarily blinded by a brilliant white light, followed by the sight of his first mate being hurled into the air, his body instantly consumed by the encroaching flames. The fire continued its relentless advance, engulfing the remaining sailors on the bridge and, finally, him.

A voracious inferno claimed all in its path. Lawrence watched as the gigantic fireball expanded, swallowing the entire bridge, with his body gradually being incinerated by the flames. Time seemed to slow down, allowing him to perceive the scene with unnerving clarity, including the eerie transformation of the flames into a strange, ghostly green color.

Lawrence’s mind was momentarily in a state of void. Before he could comprehend the spectacle unraveling before him, the furious red fireball that had decimated the bridge transformed into a massive expanse of spectral green flames. These otherworldly flames swept over everything within their reach—metal, wood, glass, leather…

All substances that came into contact with the flames became translucent as if they had been converted into spirits. One after another, the crew members caught in the fiery maelstrom collapsed, wrapped in the ghostly flames. Their flesh and bones appeared as clear as crystal. Then, remarkably, each one of them, seemingly unharmed, rose and exchanged perplexed looks.

The spectacle was eerily similar to their initial encounter with the Vanished.

It was as if the horrific event that had previously transpired aboard the White Oak was playing out once again.

The sensation of solid ground beneath his feet yanked Lawrence from his daze. Involuntarily, he found himself standing at the helm, his body engulfed in a halo of ghostly flames. Almost automatically, he extended his hand, his fingers wrapping tightly around the ship’s wheel.

Instantly, a profound bond surged through him.

Every detail of the White Oak, from each individual screw to a window, a length of rope, was reflected vividly in his mind as if they were physical extensions of his own being. Despite his years of intimate familiarity with the ship, he had never experienced such an intense connection.

Accompanying this sensory onslaught was a compelling thought, like an authoritative voice dictating his fate.

You now belong to the Vanished Fleet. Dedicate your allegiance to Captain Duncan.

Baffled, Lawrence tightened his grip on the wheel, directing the White Oak as it seamlessly responded to his mental commands. Gradually, he guided the ship towards the “enemy vessel” rapidly closing in on them.

Anomaly 077 remained there, untouched by the earlier explosion. This mummy-like entity was curled up near the helm, trembling and whimpering as it watched the spectral flames flicker around it. “I was explicit about not wanting to touch it, yet you forced me. I couldn’t dare defy, for a sailor who rebels will be chained to a cannonball and cast into the sea! I am familiar with the seafaring code! I am the Sailor!”

Lawrence glanced at the entity now self-identifying as the Sailor. His comprehension of the unfolding events was far from complete, yet his menacing gaze was to silence Anomaly 077 and wrangle the corpse under his control.

The mummy-like figure cautiously rose to its feet under this state, observing the astounding spectacle— the bridge, devastated by the previous attack, was experiencing rapid restoration under the influence of the spectral flame. The entire crew, now resembling ghosts, instinctively resumed their duties, waiting for their captain’s orders.

“Captain…” Anomaly 077 turned towards Lawrence, “…what should be our next move?”

Lawrence was once again perplexed, but then a realization seemed to dawn on him. He slowly averted his gaze.

“The Vanished Fleet is under attack… retaliate.”

“Retaliate!” Anomaly 077 instantly echoed. “Retaliate!”

“Retaliate!” The voice of First Mate Gus boomed from the side. His body was wreathed in flames, the crackling sound of the fire intertwining with his words. “Follow the Captain’s command, retaliate!”

“Retaliate!”

The chorus was echoed by the crew stationed on the bridge in perfect harmony. Simultaneously, each spectral crew member aboard the White Oak “received” the captain’s command. The ship, reborn amidst the flames, sprang into action. Its steam core roared, all gun turrets swiveled into position, and a resonating steam whistle mingled with a primal roar echoed across the sea!

The ship beneath them lunged forward, rapidly closing the gap with the Seagull. Almost concurrently, Lawrence caught sight of another specter flanking the White Oak— an additional vessel shrouded in a dense fog and billowing smoke, only visible as a menacing silhouette.

Its silhouette bore an uncanny resemblance to that of the White Oak, undoubtedly a sibling ship of the same class.

The enigmatic vessel surged ahead in perfect unison with the White Oak, launching a unified assault against the Seagull.

Through the ascending spectral flames, Lawrence gazed, dumbstruck, at the phantom warship that had suddenly materialized beside them. After what seemed like an eternity, he whispered its name as though in a spellbound state.

“The Black Oak… Martha?”