True Apocalypse Game

"BANG!"

The crisp crack of the gunshot rang out. In an instant, a bullet tore a massive hole through the leader’s head. The back of his skull was blown clean off, sending a spray of brain matter into the air as his body slammed back into his chair.

Only this time, he wasn’t getting back up.

This sudden turn of events left the pirates utterly dumbfounded. They could hardly believe their own eyes, completely unable to process what had just happened.

Their leader, their vicious captain, was dead? Just like that!?

And his head had been completely blown apart. It was a gruesome way to die!

"A gun... It’s a gun! He has a gun!" a white-haired old sailor suddenly shouted, pointing at the automatic rifle in Shen Feng’s hands. "Quick... quick, hands on your head! According to the old legends, it’s the only way to keep a gun from killing you!"

As he spoke, he dropped his Fish Spear, squatted on the deck, and clasped his hands over his head.

The old sailor clearly held some sway. Hearing his words, the other sailors glanced at the corpse of their captain—head blown off from dozens of meters away—and hastily squatted down as well.

They had spent their entire lives making a living on the sea and had heard their fair share of strange tales, including the legends of guns.

These weapons could supposedly take a life from hundreds of meters away and were once standard issue for everyone, but they had all been gradually lost to time.

Rumor had it that in certain places, in the hands of certain people, guns still existed. These few remaining weapons granted their wielders power like that of a Divine Spirit.

Compared to guns and bullets, the Fish Spears in their hands were utter junk.

Meanwhile, the pirate ship was still steadily approaching Shen Feng’s small rubber dinghy, but all the pirates were now squatting on the deck, hands clasped over their heads.

Shen Feng didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

’I can’t believe guns have become like items of Magic in this world.’ He frowned, thinking of the great civilizational collapses he had seen in the post-nuclear apocalyptic wasteland.

’The state of this world is far from optimistic...’

Without the sailors to control it, the pirate ship continued to coast forward on inertia, finally coming up alongside Shen Feng’s rubber raft.

He folded his sun umbrella, tossed his backpack onto the pirate ship, and with a single leap, jumped aboard the cobbled-together, twenty-meter-long vessel.

He then turned, hooked the rubber raft with the handle of his umbrella, and hoisted it onto the pirate ship’s deck.

The pirates were still squatting there, hands over their heads, looking extremely cautious.

Shen Feng walked over, kicked the pirate leader’s corpse out of the chair, and sat down himself before speaking.

"Alright, get up. From now on, I’m the captain of this ship. If you want to die, you can jump overboard. If you want to live, you’ll accept me as your leader. Now, clean up this corpse and feed it to the fish."

Hearing his words, the assembled pirates could only look at one another in dismay.

They were shocked not just by Shen Feng’s words, but even more so by the flawless Brooklyn accent being broadcast from the silicon-based framework on his chest.

The white-haired old sailor, however, was the first to react. He pounced on the dead captain’s corpse, yanked off his shoes, and took out a sharp little knife to start cutting his hair.

The other sailors swarmed forward. Some began stripping the old captain’s clothes, while another produced a pair of pliers and started pulling his teeth.

Soon, the corpse had been stripped of all its clothes, dozens of teeth, and a long lock of hair stained with blood and brain matter.

Led by the old sailor, the pirates neatly folded the clothes, wrapped the teeth in a handkerchief, and placed them, along with the lock of hair, at Shen Feng’s feet. Then, they resumed their positions, kneeling on the deck with their hands clasped over their heads.

Apparently, in this apocalyptic world, a person’s hair, teeth, and clothing were their most valuable possessions.

Of course, the old captain’s Crossbow Mechanism, along with several Crossbow Arrows tipped with shark teeth, were also presented to Shen Feng.

Shen Feng looked at these items, raised an eyebrow, and asked:

"According to your traditions, what do you do with the body of the loser?"

The old sailor hurriedly replied:

"In answer to the esteemed captain, all who die at sea must ultimately receive a sea burial. What belongs to the sky returns to the sky, and what belongs to the sea returns to the sea... Of course, being used as fish bait is also a form of sea burial, but that’s only done in cases of deep, bitter hatred..."

Although the old sailor had no idea where this stranger had come from or why he was asking these questions, he still answered with the utmost respect.

Shen Feng nodded slightly.

’So these pirates don’t have a tradition of cannibalism.’

’That means there’s still hope for this world.’

’Humanity has retained some last shred of decency.’

He nodded and said:

"Then give him a sea burial. And get this ship moving."

As if granted a pardon, the pirates rushed to the old captain’s body. Their expressions grew solemn as they worked together to hoist the naked corpse high. They stood beneath the tattered, heavily patched sail and began a slow procession toward the edge of the deck.

The ship itself wasn’t large, and the deck was short, but their steps were painstakingly slow, as if they were performing a ritual. Together, they began to chant in a low monotone:

"The world-ship has been breached,

The palaces of gods have sunk below,

Sacred Battle Armor by beasts is destroyed,

Man is adrift on the water,

A humble seaweed,

Amidst gales, great waves, and tsunamis.

O, you who died at sea,

Your soul shall return to your homeland,

Where there is land,

Where there is Heaven..."

Then, with a collective heave, the dozen or so men threw the old captain’s body high into the air and over the side into the sea.

The next moment, the somber atmosphere vanished completely. The pirates all returned to their posts, and the old sailor approached Shen Feng with a fawning smile.

"Captain, where to next?"

Shen Feng had watched them impassively from start to finish. The somber mood and the sorrow expressed in their chant had been genuine, but so was the speed with which they had abandoned their old captain.

He could understand that, though.

’Feelings are cheap in the apocalypse.’

’Only power is real.’

’Whoever has the biggest fist is the boss.’

’For all I know, they’ve been through several captains already.’

And though the pirates appeared completely submissive, he could see them sneaking glances at the gun in his hand out of the corners of their eyes.

Hearing the old sailor’s question, Shen Feng asked impassively:

"Where are we? Where did you come from? Is there any land nearby?"

A flicker of confusion crossed the old sailor’s eyes, but he answered truthfully nonetheless:

"This is the Northern Sea Region. We just set out a few days ago after resupplying at the nearest Floating Island Market. As for land... the legendary land is extremely far away. It’s called the Cordillera Island Chain, but I’ve never been... They say to reach that distant land, you have to ride one of the legendary giant ships..."