The sky and the sea met together, and their boundaries became blurred in the azure blue, making it difficult to distinguish. Continuing to look up, there was the incomparably magnificent sky. It seemed that the light was no longer falling from the sky, but rising from the deep seabed. Countless lights were rising, they leaped through the edge of the clouds, passed through layer after layer of sky, and reached the unknown deep space.
This is a scene that ordinary people can hardly see, but in Shrike's eyes it is already a bit boring. He put down the telescope and threw it on the small table beside him, slumped on the bench, and then picked up a book to block his eyes and block the sunlight.
This is the sixth day since the voyage, and everything has passed very quickly, as if Shrike had just set sail from the port of Rendona yesterday. He still clearly remembers the scene at that time, when the fellow Red Falcon waved goodbye with tears and snot, as if they might never come back.
Ah... Who knows about this kind of thing
Judging from the speed of the Morning Advance, the Shrike should have been about to enter the waters of the Viking countries by now, but the Morning Advance was the only ship that had been modified with the Perpetual Motion Pump. The other three following cargo ships were still using today's ordinary technology and were completely unable to keep up with the speed of the Morning Advance.
So the fleet could only slow down and drift on this boundless ocean.
Life at sea was extremely boring. The first few days were relatively bearable, but now Shrike had begun to feel irritable. It was unknown whether it was due to the shadow of Operation Silent Sea or some other problem of his own. Shrike was somewhat alike with Hercule in that they both hated the sea extremely.
The ocean is vast and beautiful... but it is a little too vast and deep, making people feel endless fear.
In Shrike's view, the big ship under his feet was actually a cage. It imprisoned everyone on the sea. What's worse, it was now leading everyone towards the dark sea.
Silent sea.
The memory stung Shrike, and he pulled the book off his face and sat up on the bench.
His face was as pale as a dead person, and even direct sunlight could not warm it up. Shrike rubbed his face hard, as if to make himself more awake. Then he drew the weapon from his waist, the revolver named Deathstroke. It seemed that only by holding it could he feel a sense of security on this sea.
Staring at the weapon, the silver-white gun body reflected the light, but the hand holding the gun could only feel the coldness of the metal. The depiction of ghosts and gods on the cylinder was still clear, but perhaps because the glow was too strong, the pattern began to distort slightly.
"For Whom the Bell Tolls..."
The Shrike murmured softly, as if it were a magic spell that would awaken something.
"Are you really a fetishist?"
A voice suddenly sounded, someone said behind him, he interrupted Shrike's thoughts, turned around, and saw a guy on the beach walking towards him with a comfortable look on his face.
The guy on the beach was all wet, and it looked like he had just come back from the sea. He had goggles on his head and a floral shirt on. The buttons were unbuttoned, revealing his chest full of scars. He was wearing floral shorts that matched the shirt, and a pair of slippers on his hairy thighs.