At this moment, everyone aboard the White Oak would describe what they saw as something they would never forget in a lifetime.

It was an old and majestic three-masted warship—in an age when steamships were no longer unusual, the old-styled galleon that emerged from the thick fog was a thing out of an old oil painting. Burning green flames spanned across the wooden hull, and the sails were so overpowering and ghostly that they struck a chord of the undead kind.

"We're going to crash!!!" Some crewmember shouted. They are not one to shy away from danger, but this was too much for their mortal souls.

While most ran around like headless chickens looking for a place to hide, some stayed and grasped onto whatever they could find. However, a few had begun to pray and chant to the storm goddess Gomona or the lord of death Bartók.

In this boundless sea, the blessings of the gods may have waned, but only the power of these two gods granted some form of protection for their souls.

But not all the crew members were losing their cool. The first mate had set his eyes on the captain, someone whom he trusted the most. Dangers always accompanied the endless sea, and in dire situations like these, the captain's experience always determined the life and death of its crew. Since Captain Lawrence had over thirty years of experience, he's the best bet anyone could make.

Unfortunately, to the first mate's disappointment, there's only fear and shock on the captain's face right now.

Acting as if he's completely unaware of the danger coming at the White Oak, the old captain stared so hard at the emerging galleon that he nearly snapped off the wheel. "It's… it's the Vanished…"

"Ca… Captain?!" The first mate got startled by the name. Like everyone who made a living on the sea, he's heard many stories from older and more superstitious sailors. "What did you just say?! That…."

"The Vanished!!!" Captain Lawrence did not seem to hear his first mate's cry and continued to stare ahead. By the time he regained any semblance of control, the White Oak had already plowed into the Vanished!

Almost all the sailors screamed, but the expected earth-shattering crash did not come. Instead, the burning green ship of ghostly nature directly went into the White Oak's body and intertwined with each other. This naturally drew wide eyes from the crew, who were still trembling all over from the contact.

Lawrence also watched this happen, but when his eyes caught sight of his first mate in front of himself, the man had transformed into an ethereal body as the flame engulfed the guy. As for the priest next to the praying table, the flames didn't consume the cleric, but instead bounced off the flickering white blessing protecting him.

Then the flames devoured the old captain as well. A powerful sense of weariness, obedience, and fear filled his whole body. This activated the protective sea charm he prepared ahead of time, allowing Lawrence to maintain some part of his sanity while he passed through the moving ghost ship's hull and cabins.

There were ancient wooden pillars of burning green fire in there, rotten ropes and barnacles, and a vast storage room housing all sorts of strange things that should've been lying deep under the sea. But things changed when he entered the captain's quarter of the Vanished. It was luxurious by any standards, but the wooden goat head figurine ruined any sense of wealth with its ominous presence.

Twisted and glowing, the goat head stared indifferently into Lawrence's eyes like it was watching prey.

Eventually, Lawrence couldn't take it anymore from the intense glare and flinched upwards. That's when the two captains met. Tall and cursed looking as one might expect, Duncan was still holding the steering wheel of the Vanished with his imposing self of ghostly nature.

The old Lawrence knew this was it. Closing his eyes in resignation, the old sailor understood the Vanished had come for its booty, and they were that prize.

"You don't have to take everyone away. Take me and let my crew go." He shot open his eyes and mustered enough courage to make any parent proud.

But the tall ghostly figure did not answer him but instead cast a curious gaze at whatever small mortal captain whom dared to bargain with himself.

"They all have wives and children!" Lawrence shouts in desperation.

The flaming undead finally reacted and began to move that jaw like it was saying something. Unfortunately, the loud whistling wind around them had utterly overtaken the sentence in the ears of the mortals.

"What did you say?! The wind is too strong for me to hear!!"

The next second, a loud noise blasted into Lawrence's ears, mixed in with the wind and cries of the sailors outside. Finally, it's over, the green flame had faded away under the afterglow of the light, and the remaining hull of the Vanished had dissipated into the murky fog behind the White Oak.

Gasping at the release, Lawrence immediately checked his body and found everything had returned to normal. The flesh that burned off had returned, and the priest lying next to the praying table was still breathing heavily. They're all alive!

"Captain! The ship, the Vanished is gone!" The first mate yelled with an incredible voice.

Lawrence was distracted and delayed his response: "Did… he let us go?"

The first mate didn't hear him clearly and asked again: "Captain? What did you say?"

"That Captain Duncan…" Lawrence muttered subconsciously but then slapped himself as if he had accidentally mentioned some forbidden word. Jerking up to face his first mate: "Fast, roll call the entire crew! I want to see who's missing from the White Oak!"

The first mate immediately nodded and was ready to carry out the order when Lawrence added another sentence: "And make sure to see if there's anyone extra on the ship!"

The first mate got taken aback by the second half but promptly understood with intense fear in those eyes. He kept whispering the storm goddess's name while he turned for the deck and rang the gathering bell.