Chapter 13: The Departure

Reached 25 stones, here's the bonus chapter.

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The morning sun rose like molten gold, streaking the sky with shades of red and orange. I stood on the shore, taking in the scene.

I turned away, eyes scanning the forest edge one last time. The dense undergrowth that had once felt impenetrable now seemed almost familiar, as if it had grown to accept my presence. I couldn't help but smirk. This island had tested me, but I had conquered it.

The scent of salt and the crash of distant waves called to me, a reminder that the next phase of my journey would begin soon. I stepped toward the boat, running my hands along its frame, checking the stability of the planks and the binding of the ropes. The ship was ready, but I wasn't going to leave without a plan.

....

The night before my departure, I spread my navigation tools across the flat rock that served as my table. The log pose, my most prized possession, sat at the center. I had studied its movements for weeks, watching how it aligned with the magnetic fields unique to the Grand Line.

Beside it, the navigation books I'd purchased before my arrival on this island were dog-eared and marked with notes scrawled in charcoal. Each passage about ocean currents and shifting weather patterns had been committed to memory.

"The Grand Line's currents are unpredictable" I reminded myself. Even with my understanding of modern nautical strategies, this world's seas followed their own logic. The books had hinted at whirlpools appearing out of nowhere, and storms as sudden as a blink. It was a sea where the unprepared perished.

I mapped out potential courses, sketching a rough diagram in the sand. According to the log pose, my next destination lay northwest. Rumors I'd overheard in the previous town spoke of an island bustling with inventors and workshops, a place where technology was pushed to its limits.

That would be my next stop. There, I could gather better materials, study local advancements, and perhaps gain access to information I needed to continue improving my craft.

The wind shifted, a sudden breeze brushing against my back as if urging me onward. I took it as a sign and stood, brushing the sand from my hands. The preparations were complete. All that remained was to ready the ship for its maiden voyage.

....

I woke before dawn, the cool air biting against my skin. My shelter, which had served as my base for weeks, looked more like an abandoned relic now. I gathered the last of my supplies: food packed into woven bags, a set of spare tools, and a small flask filled with fresh water from a nearby stream.

The ship's hidden compartments were already stocked with preserved fruit and smoked meat from my successful hunts. It wasn't much, but it would sustain me until I reached my next destination.

As I loaded the supplies onto the ship, the first rays of the sun peeked over the horizon, casting long shadows across the sand. The air was thick with anticipation, each sound amplified, the cawing of distant birds, the whisper of waves, the creak of wood underfoot.

I climbed aboard and secured the last of my bags, making sure everything was in place. The ship's design was simple yet innovative. The reinforced hull was angled for speed, and the rudder was built with precision, allowing for sharp maneuvers. I'd even managed to install a hand-cranked mechanism that could adjust the sails quickly, a touch of modern ingenuity adapted for this world.

Standing at the helm, I took a deep breath, the scent of salt and wood filling my lungs.

With one last glance at the shore, I untied the ropes and pushed off. The ship groaned as it shifted, the waves lapping at its sides as it drifted into deeper water. I unfurled the sails, and they caught the morning breeze, propelling the ship forward. The island began to shrink behind me, the dense forest and rocky beach fading into the horizon.

....

The first few hours passed smoothly. The ship moved with ease, slicing through the waves as if it were part of the sea itself. I kept one eye on the log pose, its needle steady, pointing resolutely toward my destination. The early morning turned to midday, the sun high and unrelenting. I adjusted the sails to catch the changing wind, grateful for the mechanisms I had designed to make it easier.

As the day wore on, I felt the familiar thrum of anticipation. The sea was vast, a sprawling expanse of opportunity and danger. I needed to stay sharp. I tied a cloth around my eyes, forcing myself to rely on my other senses.

The creak of the ship's wooden beams, the slap of water against the hull, and the wind whistling through the rigging painted a picture in my mind. The hours of blindfolded training on the island had not been wasted. I could almost feel the subtle shifts in the ship's movement, anticipate the change in wind direction before it happened.

Suddenly, a ripple in the air made my heart pound faster. I pulled off the blindfold just as a dark shape passed under the surface of the water, a large shadow gliding with purpose. I gripped the hilt of my dagger, every muscle tensing. The shape moved away, disappearing into the depths as quickly as it had appeared.

A warning, perhaps. The Grand Line was reminding me that it was not to be underestimated. I forced myself to relax, easing the tension in my shoulders. There was no time to dwell on fear; only preparation and sharp reflexes would see me through.

....

As the sun began to set, painting the sky with streaks of orange and deep purple, I settled into the rhythm of the sea. The distant outline of my destination loomed on the horizon, a promise of new challenges and new opportunities. My ship, my refuge and creation, carried me forward, cutting through the waters like a blade.

The sea whispered its secrets, the wind singing in my ears as if welcoming me into its domain. I stood tall at the helm, eyes forward, ready for whatever lay beyond the horizon.

'Here we are.' I thought, my fingers tightening around the wheel. The Grand Line was vast, but so was my ambition.

With the island behind me and the open sea ahead, I sailed into the unknown, confident that every strike, every plan, and every scar had prepared me for what was to come.