MAN OVERBOARD CH5

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In the six months that followed Alaric's disappearance, the Aryan Kingdom was thrown into chaos, unable to find a single clue about his whereabouts. Despite the relentless efforts of the kingdom's military, Alaric seemed to have vanished without a trace.

Little did they know, on the day of his supposed execution, Alaric's body had fallen into the river, which eventually flowed out to sea. A ship, bearing the flag of a distant continent, was sailing on its routine journey. Suddenly, a crew member shouted, "Captain, Captain, look at that! Is it a body?" The captain rushed to the bridge with binoculars and peered through them. "Yes, it looks like a body. Man overboard, man overboard! Rescue mission starting right now."

The ship approached the floating figure, and the crew saw that it was a child, no more than ten years old. "Pick him up immediately!" the captain shouted. "Call the doctor on the ship right now. Is he breathing?" The crew scrambled, pulling the boy from the water. "We can't find any sign of breathing," one of them said urgently. "Check his pulse right now," the captain ordered.

"Sir, I found his pulse! He's still alive, still alive!" one crew member shouted with relief. "Take him to the sick bay. Mayday! Take him right now!" The crew quickly carried Alaric's limp body to the ship's medical facility. The doctor on board, a stern but kind-hearted man, immediately began to assess his condition. He noticed the boy's ragged clothing and the faint traces of blood from his injuries.

The doctor worked diligently, administering first aid and doing everything in his power to stabilize Alaric. As the hours passed, Alaric's condition gradually improved. Though he was still unconscious, his breathing became more regular, and his pulse grew stronger. The crew watched over him, marveling at the resilience of the young boy who had somehow survived such a harrowing ordeal.

Meanwhile, back in the Aryan Kingdom, Alaric's family remained oblivious to his fate. The kingdom's highest authorities, under the relentless pressure of the Sword Emperor, continued their exhaustive search, but the trail had gone cold. The Sword Emperor, refusing to believe his grandson was dead, doubled down on his efforts, forming a new elite team dedicated solely to finding Alaric. The rest of the world watched in disbelief, viewing his unyielding determination as madness and a waste of resources.

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It's been two days since they picked Alaric from the sea. The captain paced the deck, worry etched deep into his weathered face. Alaric hadn't regained consciousness, and the doctor had reported troubling news. The boy had been shot not once, but three times. The bullets were of a high caliber, the kind used by powerful nations. This raised many questions in the captain's mind. How could a child so young be involved in such deadly circumstances? What tragedy had befallen him?

Adding to the mystery was the rapid healing of Alaric's wounds. Two days ago, the injuries were severe, deep and life-threatening. Now, they had already healed by sixty percent, an almost miraculous recovery. It was impossible for a normal human, and the captain found himself questioning the nature of the boy who lay before him.

As he stood by Alaric's bedside, lost in thought, the boy's eyes suddenly fluttered open. Before the captain could react, Alaric sat up abruptly, his eyes wide with confusion and fear. "Lie down, lie down!" the captain urged, placing a gentle but firm hand on Alaric's shoulder. "You're safe now. Just calm down."

Alaric's heart raced as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. The unfamiliar faces, the rocking of the ship, and the pain that still lingered in his body—all of it overwhelmed him. The captain spoke softly, his voice a soothing balm. "You're on a ship, lad. We found you at sea. You're safe here. No need to be afraid."

Gradually, Alaric's breathing steadied. He looked around, taking in the details of the room and the concerned face of the captain. "W-where am I?" he managed to whisper, his voice hoarse from disuse.

"You're aboard the Seraphim," the captain replied. "We're heading to Eldoria. Do you remember anything? Your name, where you're from?"

Alaric hesitated, memories of the execution and his brother's death flooding back. "My name is Alaric," he said quietly. "I... I can't remember much else."

The captain nodded, sensing the trauma the boy had endured. "That's alright, Alaric. You don't have to remember everything right now. Just focus on getting better. We'll take care of you."

Over the next few days, Alaric grew stronger. The crew, having learned of his miraculous recovery, treated him with a mix of awe and respect. The captain, ever curious, kept a close watch on him, trying to piece together the puzzle of the boy's past. Alaric, in turn, began to feel a sense of belonging among the sailors, their camaraderie a small comfort in the midst of his turmoil.

One evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, Alaric and the captain stood on the deck, gazing out at the endless sea. "Captain, why did you save me?" Alaric asked, his voice barely audible over the sound of the waves.

The captain turned to him, a gentle smile on his lips. "Because it was the right thing to do. Everyone deserves a second chance, Alaric. No matter what happened in your past, you have a future ahead of you. Make it count."

Alaric nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. He would grow stronger, uncover the truth behind his brother's death, and reclaim his place. The journey to becoming the strongest emperor in history had just begun.

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