C1 Judgment

Albert, in wooden handcuffs, looked at the bishop at the altar in his crimson vestments and said nothing.

He was facing a religious trial.

The bishop, his face sullen, his chin slightly raised, was trying to exude his God-given authority.

"Name."

"Albert von Ardenne."

Albert's reply was tinged with a trill that, combined with his angled head, gave the impression of a strange piety about to voluntarily walk up to the altar.

"I have heard that you are desecrating the Supreme Sun, is there such a thing?"

Albert could feel the hostility of those around him, even the statues of the celestial gods carved into the stone pillars in the great hall, their expressions turning angry.

"I just don't like the sun hanging over my head forever, where I was born, there is day, there is night, there is sun, there is moon, the sun in our place will rise in the east and set in the west, unlike here ......"

Albert's words were drowned out by the whispers of the crowd, some of them laughing softly, some sighing and shaking their heads, but most of them accusing Albert of blasphemy in his remarks.

"Silence, silence!"

The bishop's voice seemed like a flood of bells, echoing endlessly in the great hall.

That the supreme sun would set was unthinkable to their ears.

"Some say that you come from the Bihai, which is full of curses and evil reverence?"

"Yes. When I first came here five years ago I opened my eyes to the shadowy forests of the Beyhive."

"Then where were you five years ago?"

The focus of Albert's vision traveled through the bishop and across the wall, as if he were remembering something very long ago, but very clear.

"Before that, I was working at a geological exploration company ......"

He murmured the language of his original world, an accent that sounded to the others like chanting a mantra frightening those around him into holding their breath.

The necks of the people who had been stretched out had shrunk back, their eyes were averted, and the semicircle that had been formed by the whispers had now doubled in size, as if the mere inhalation of the air that Albert breathed out would be followed by a plague.

The bishop's expression was equally horrified, he raised his hands high, his mouth vibrated as if he was exorcising evil spirits.

"This man's soul died in the Bihai five years ago! The current one has long been possessed by the evil demons in the Bihai! Men! Tie him down and let his flesh return to the arms of the Inferno God!"

The result of the fire torture did not surprise Albert, in fact, it was part of his plan.

In the square in front of the Temple of Inferno, Albert, who was tied to the stake, looked up at the sky, the orange sun that hung above everyone's head was still there, with a few black dots clearly visible, like several pupils on a single eyeball, looking down on all this madness.

Bundles of firewood were piled in a circle around Albert, and a man was pouring kerosene on them, the odor of something spoiled going straight to Albert's head.

The crowd was dense, they were gathered around the bishop, but they did not dare to come too close, enjoying the protection of the clergy without offending the other's majesty, like a bunch of chattering animal cubs.

He walked to the side of the pyre, raised a hand, and the chaotic crowd gradually became silent like wheat blown down by the wind.

He shook his hands, and after the shaking wide vestments hung down, he raised his right hand and began to recite the spell.

The crowd bowed their heads, folded their hands, some even burst into tears, and they murmured softly after the bishop, making a matching rustling sound like the leaves of a tree shaken by the wind at night.

"Albert von Ardenne! May the God of Flames purify your soul!"

In the face of the judgment sent down by the spokesman of the gods, Albert seemed as if he hadn't heard it, as he tilted his head back, not paying any attention to the seething masses and the executioner who was getting closer and closer.

With the sound of a siren, everyone's eyes were drawn to the sky.

Dark shadows gradually enveloped them all, blocking out the glory of the supreme sun.

It was Albert's flying boat, the Crescent, like a windjammer with two pontoons.

With a whoosh, a steel anchor with a rope plunged into the masonry street, sending debris flying across the square.

At the same time, Albert twisted his hands to free himself from the shackles that would have cuffed an ox. He easily tore off the ropes, kicked away the firewood, and ran three steps to the anchor, pulling it out with a single stroke.

The Crescent rose at great speed, and at the same time withdrew the anchor, and amidst the confused screams of the crowd, Albert, grasping the steel spear, followed it off the ground.

As he looked back, the bishop standing in the crowd with his arms raised in the air had completely lost his God-given rallying cry.

Despite his attempts to keep the people from panicking, the height of the flying ship, which was almost up against the temple towers, shattered the sense of security that the gods had given the people, and they ran around like a colony of frightened ants.

"Captain, welcome back."

Albert let out a "hmmm" as he looked at his first mate with his white stubble and asked, "Anthony, what took you so long?"

"There are three flying ship garrisons on this empty island, and it took some effort to get the Crescent Moon out of the berthing area unnoticed."

"Did you get the stuff?"

"Got it, it's in the second level cargo hold, Pato is guarding it.

Hey Captain, did you find what you were looking for?"

"That thing has nothing to do with the Land of Return at all."

Albert answered, shaking his head, and full of disappointment, a disappointment so real that it was sharply opposed to the joy and the imperative he had felt before he set out.

Because this place of return that Albert had been dreaming of finding was the legendary bridge to another world, the only hope for Albert to return to his own world.

In order to obtain clues, news, and even vague legends about the Land of Return, he spent his entire income, even going so far as to take on this dirty job this time.

On the bridge, the helmsman and crew chief saluted towards Albert, their breaths coming in sharp excitations, like cats tasting fishy for the first time.

Albert gave a series of commands and the flying ship's air sacs began to fill and its speed began to increase.

Anthony stood beside Albert and said, "Captain, I have a question, why do you always leave the most dangerous jobs to yourself, knowing that you

are the captain of the ship!"

Apparently, in the eyes of this oldest mate, being first is not the job of a captain.

"I'm afraid that you won't be able to do it well, and that will get you killed instead."

Seeing Albert's twistedly pious look, Anthony grinned, brought his head closer, and muttered in a low voice: "Sir Captain, take off that damn thing of yours in a hurry."

Albert froze for a moment and hurriedly took off the pendant hanging around his neck, pulled out a leather pouch and stuffed it in.

This leaf-shaped pendant that had been with him for five years was an unadulterated curse.

While wearing it significantly increased power, the side effect it brought with it of answering every question and still being all truthful always embarrassed Albert.

After twenty minutes had passed, in the rear of the Crescent Moon, the three smaller flying ships had become dots that appeared and disappeared, and it was no longer possible for them to catch up with the Crescent Moon.

"Such a small empty island even has a fleet of garrison flying ships ......"

After sighing, Albert gave an order to the crew to return to the harbor at full speed.

For the crew of the ship, the order to return home was undoubtedly the order they wanted to hear the most, there was more than just a warm bed back home, there was also the girl's soft everything.

Albert, on the other hand, didn't like the idea of returning, because it would be like giving up on his quest to find his way back to the land of return, which was getting farther and farther away from his home.

Before returning to the ship, Albert had to inspect the cargo, the one he had to get at the risk of being burned at the stake.

As he and Anthony arrived at the second level cargo hold, a slight murmur stopped him in his tracks.

Albert opened the pouch and removed the leaf-shaped pendant and tied it to his chest, drew his homemade musket, and advanced carefully past the piles of cargo.

In the dim light of the oil lamp, the shadowy back of Pato appeared in front of Albert, kneeling there, shoulders shrugging, mouth murmuring.

Beside Pato, the aged wooden box carved with several tentacles had been opened.

"Yelena, take me away ...... Yelena, take me away ......"

The voice was vague, like the subconscious murmur of a person who was extremely frightened.

Albert immediately stopped in his tracks, and he stopped Anthony, who wanted to probe, and began to pull back until the two of them were out of the second-story cargo bay.

"Didn't you tell him that thing couldn't be opened and looked at?"

Both of Anthony's hands were shaking, the lantern was being shaken around by him, and the shadows of the entire first floor cargo bay swayed as if a group of evil spirits were wandering back and forth.

"I told him ...... but who knows what he ......"

Anthony's eyes fell on the pendant on Albert's chest and he grabbed Albert's wrist as if it was his only saving grace.

"Captain I ask you, are we all going to die?"

Albert looked up from his thoughts, his brows furrowed together.

"What's going to happen next, if one of us between the two of us wusses out, then the entire flying ship will die."

Anthony nodded solemnly, his hands no longer trembling, knowing that the captain was telling the truth, and that in three years of sailing the captain's judgment had always been correct.

A few minutes later, Albert handed Anthony the pendant and the homemade musket, while he himself was dressed tightly and wearing two pairs of thick gloves.

"Don't get on that damn thing until I cover it, just one look and we'll be a hell of a lot like Pato."

Albert finished, raised the sheet in his hand, and after a cursory glance at Pato's position, closed his eyes and just raised the sheet and pounced.

In the confusion, Albert touched a hard object, and with both hands he pressed it dead center under him.

After a mournful howl, Pato attacked Albert in a frenzy, his mouth hissing.

"Give it back! Give it back to me!"

The voice was shrill and unusual, as harsh as if he was scraping glass with a piece of iron.

Albert curled his body to take Pato's punches, his eyes closed as he tugged at the sheet, wrapping the hard object as tightly as he could.

"Anthony! I'm covering it! Hurry up!"

Anthony was stunned, not so much because of Pato's maddening attack, but because he saw Pato's face.

The location of the eyes on that face had become two deep holes, blood gurgled out, and Pato's originally dark and handsome face disappeared, turning into a bloodless, twisted and deformed grotesque face.

After glancing at the thing wrapped up in Albert's arms so that he couldn't see its shape, Anthony quickly averted his gaze and rushed over to Pato.

With the pendant, Anthony knocked Pato off his feet and slammed into the wall of the cargo hold, his neck clicking as he slid down the wall.

Albert had wrapped up the hard section, which he stuffed into the crate along with the sheet, and stood up, letting out a long breath.

"I I I I ...... didn't want to kill him ......"

"I know, sometimes it's hard to control the force ......"

Before Albert could finish his words, Pato's body twitched a few times and wobbled up, his head drooping over his shoulder, the blood still gurgling from his eyes.

"Give me back ...... Give me back ...... Yelena ...... Take me away ...... Take me away ......"