Chapter 17: The Trident’s Trial: Stealth, Strategy, and Survival

I sighed and stared at the raft I had painstakingly built.

It wasn’t just any makeshift raft it was a masterpiece, a work of art in its own right.

“Alright, it’s finally time to escape this wretched island.”

After packing enough provisions, I grabbed my paddle and climbed aboard the raft.

For the record, paddles and axes were classified as survival tools, so they didn’t break my chosen gameplay concept.

No matter how hard I swung them at someone, they wouldn’t deal any damage.

So, where was I headed?

Nowhere specific.

The Sea of Illusion was an endless expanse of ocean dotted with a few scattered islets.

My primary goal was to stay within the safe zone while searching for a large ship.

Realistically, winning with this flimsy raft was close to impossible.

At some point, I’d have to commandeer a better vessel.

Paddling steadily, I left the island behind, venturing deeper into the turbulent sea.

As I had seen in the waiting room earlier, the weather was atrocious stormy skies unleashed torrential rain,

and the ocean roared with ferocious waves.

Navigating through such treacherous conditions was no small feat.

A single mistake could capsize the raft, spelling certain doom.

However, navigation was as much about skill as it was about strategy.

By carefully adjusting my course using the watch’s compass, I managed to stay on track.

And this, precisely, was why I despised the Forest of Silence map you couldn’t use the watch there.

After paddling for what felt like an eternity, a faint silhouette of a sailing ship appeared on the horizon.

I doubted they had noticed me.

My raft was practically invisible, a speck against the vast ocean.

Still, I approached cautiously.

After a closer look, it seemed the ship wasn’t a ghost ship.

Ghost ships were event-specific additions to the map, and boarding one usually led to a most “pleasant” demise.

“Good. Time to raid this vessel.”

Normally, such a decision would be sheer madness.

In the middle of an open sea, with no cover and the horizon stretching infinitely, sneaking up was nearly impossible.

But not today.

The storm, the torrential rain, the chaotic waves, and the pitch-black skies worked in my favor.

Under these conditions, I could sneak right under their noses.

Had the weather been clear, I would have adopted a different approach perhaps ambushing the crew when they docked on a remote island to restock supplies.

Once my decision was made, I acted swiftly.

Steering my raft behind the target vessel, I closed the distance carefully.

As expected, they hadn’t noticed me at all.

Up close, I noticed something unusual the lifeboats on either side of the ship were missing.

This suggested a fight had already occurred shortly after the match started.

Someone must have claimed the ship, others escaped in lifeboats, and those who failed likely perished.

A miniature battle royale must have unfolded on this very ship.

But surviving that skirmish didn’t guarantee victory.

A predator like me could swoop in, steal the spoils, and leave them defenseless against other threats.

“Don’t take it personally. This is survival of the fittest.”

“Here we go.”

Pulling the raft close to the stern, I leaped toward the ship and grabbed onto a ladder.

Climbing quietly, I reached the deck.

There, at the helm, was an NPC helmsman, steering the ship.

In certain maps like the Sea of Illusion, NPCs weren’t just there for decoration.

They provided more than mere experience points; once you captured a large vessel, they became your loyal crew, assisting in battles.

This was why claiming a large ship was crucial for securing first place.

The NPCs pledged loyalty when you wore the captain’s hat found in the captain’s quarters.

You could also snatch the hat from another player and achieve the same result.

This meant I had to find the player who owned the ship, eliminate them, and claim the hat.

But NPCs didn’t respawn after dying.

The more intense the battle onboard, the more crew members would die.

Even if you won, a depleted crew meant reduced firepower for the ship.

So, what was my best course of action?

Simple.

I crept up behind the helmsman, minimizing any noise.

Then, looping my arm around his neck, I choked him with all my strength, ensuring he couldn’t make a sound.

“Gurk… Urgh…”

With a gurgling sound, he slumped lifelessly, silenced for good.

A clean kill.

Couldn’t I have just knocked him out?

No. Leaving him alive would’ve led to trouble.

With no place to hide the body and no time to secure him, he’d only wake up and alert the rest of the crew.

Killing him was the safest option.

Now, the real challenge lay ahead: finding the ship’s owner and taking that captain’s hat.