The Uninhabited Island Forest: The Whole Story
"Hey, Hendrick. Must be nice having so much work piling up, eh?"
"Rick, if you don't want a beating, get over here and help out—or fuck off somewhere far away and sew your damn mouth shut."
"Aw, c'mon, why so harsh? …Oh, hey, who's this? 'Lizard' too? Want some sugarcane?"
Rick, who often wandered around aimlessly when there was nothing to do, loved teasing Hendrick and would poke around near him for that very reason.
Whenever that happened, Hendrick would snap back with a mix of half-joking, half-serious barbs. By now, Rick knew that tone all too well—it meant Hendrick was on the verge of real anger—so he'd usually pivot by turning his gaze to the short-haired boy nearby.
But that day, his luck ran out.
"Rick, stop harassing the kid and get lost to do your damn job. No work? Fine, I'll make some for you myself."
"N-no, Captain! Actually, I do have work—I just blanked out like an idiot for a sec. I'll get right on it!"
He'd been caught slacking off right in front of the captain.
Everyone around burst into loud laughter as Rick bolted, sweat pouring down his face.
"Lizard, if that fool acts up again, come straight to the bridge. I'll give him a proper thrashing."
"Thank you, Captain Elton."
Lisbet bowed her head politely to the captain in gratitude.
Hendrick, chuckling at the scene, finished anchoring repairs and called the crew together.
"That's it for today. No work tomorrow anyway, so screw it. We'll handle the sails and ropes then!"
"Wooo!"
Smiles spread across the faces of the sailors who'd been dragging their feet, openly whining about the chores while watching Hendrick's progress. What the hell's got them so happy?
Gentle waves like a blessing, warm sunlight, perfect weather any sailor would call ideal—it repeated day after day in their peaceful shipboard life, keeping everyone mellow and content.
They had no idea how terrifying humans could be, how a single experience could reveal it all. A few words could paralyze reason and flip attitudes in an instant. It was all too easy.
*
The crew faced Hendrick and his child with faces twisted in madness, like they wanted to tear them apart on sight.
"Witch!"
"We gotta catch her and burn her!"
…Witch? Out of nowhere?
I was a bit dazed, struggling to keep up with the story's rapid pace.
"Hear me out—everyone's way too worked up right now!"
Hendrick spoke rationally, but calming a mob swept up in blame was no easy task.
"You dared trick us all and bring a witch aboard? You must be bewitched yourself, Hendrick."
"Please!"
Here's the gist: The Lucky Ship Hwellowpun, never once hit by disaster since launch.
Why did this flawless vessel suffer an unprecedented shipwreck? Simple—because a woman was aboard. That's how the logic twisted.
Woman on board → sea gets jealous, brings calamity → shipwreck → deaths → she's a witch who killed them.
In this era, it was an unwritten rule: no women on ships.
That was the spark. Add religious fervor, and it ignited.
Lisbet—disguised as a boy, even changing her name to board with her father. She could've hidden it forever, but in dire straits, keeping her secret was impossible.
Once exposed, it was the perfect fuse. Things escalated to this extreme in a flash.
With modern knowledge, I'd know it's bullshit. But here, it passed as "common sense."
Reason shattered; madness spread. They moved systematically to drag the girl and her father to judgment.
Hendrick glanced around, realized something, scooped up his child, and bolted.
"He's running!"
"Running proves she's a witch. No mercy—shoot 'em down!"
They opted for summary execution over pursuit, aiming guns and firing.
Click, click.
Luckily, most were duds.
Water ruins black powder—especially saltwater.
They watched Hendrick vanish safely into the dense forest, cursing, then belatedly grabbed flintlock muskets from the dry hold deep in the ship and gave chase.
Chasing a kid like this? Is this right?
This was too much. "Romantic and irrational age," huh? I got the flow, but my brain rebelled.
Goal: Protect 'Lisbet' from danger
It wasn't even a quest, but I planned to help anyway. Perfect.
I trailed the crew chasing them, subtly slowing to slip from the pack.
*
"Hah… hah…"
A man plunged through the trees.
He desperately wanted to stop and rest, but he couldn't.
His once-reliable comrades—who'd guarded each other's backs through storms and pirate raids—had turned feral with madness.
Panting, Hendrick clutched his daughter tight. Why? Because of me.
Lisbet's face was smeared with dirt and scratches; her little hands trembled.
"Daddy… is it my fault?"
"Shh, don't say a word. It's not your fault, Liz."
If anyone's to blame, it's me for breaking taboo to keep her close.
Self-recrimination hit as distant pursuit shouts echoed.
"In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost."
"Witch on board! The sea raged 'cause of the witch!"
"Kill the witch to prove our faith—that's how we go home. Get her!"
Torches in one hand, guns in the other, they egged each other on, pushing deeper into the woods.
Good thing seawater ruined most guns—or he'd be Swiss cheese with his girl.
But that wouldn't last.
Maybe a bullet's quicker than a beating death?
Where'd it go wrong? Was it really bringing her aboard?
No answers came.
Corralled into impassable terrain, Hendrick had no choice.
Boom!
Far off, the falconet on the beached hull roared toward the forest, iron ball crashing trees to clear a path—like aiding the hunt.
He gently set Lisbet down, hands shaking as he readied his back-slung musket.
Unlike their matchlocks, his flintlock was modern—water wouldn't faze it much.
I die, she dies.
Shoulder stock, deep breath—steadying as best he could.
Futile resistance, he knew. Top gunner or not, they weren't clueless. They'd fix issues and pour lead soon.
Despair gnawed as his finger neared the trigger.
"Kieeeek!"
A grotesque wail pierced from the woods.
Faint at first, growing with footsteps—now close, heavy, inhuman breaths rattling.
Then it emerged: a monster, mud-caked, reeking rot. No familiar shape—just alien horror.
Hendrick lost all fight. He'd seen beasts worldwide, but this? Unmatched grotesquery.
"There he is!"
His pursuers spotted him—just as he spotted the beast.
Gazes crossed; the clearing turned battlefield.
The weary man and kid? Ignored. The unknown mob threatened more.
Terrified screams erupted.
"Demon! The witch summoned it!"
"Hold formation!"
Gunfire cracked, smoke billowed, blood sprayed.
Hendrick watched, holding Lisbet, stifling breaths. Horrific either way—but her sobs drowned their cries.
Safety in numbers: they held line, guns trained.
The beast shrugged off bullets like tickles at first, ripping men—but momentum shifted.
"Ready falconet—fire!"
Boom! Iron ball shredded flesh where lead merely scratched.
"Reload! Hold line!"
Crisis loomed in their skilled maneuvering.
Hendrick closed his eyes.
They win, Liz dies.
His life? Expendable. Hers? Not.
Sorry for dragging her into this—that woman's fault too—he'd save her.
Now or never. Caught between, his choice was set.
One last head pat.
"Sorry, Liz… Daddy can't go to heaven."
Sinner now. He drew powder from his belt—sealed dry—lit the fuse, hurled at their falconet.
"Liz! Run—don't look back!"
Boom! Explosion wrecked it. Useless junk now, their line buckled.
"Fuck, Hendrick, you devil-sold soul!"
"Another falconet—hurry!"
No firepower, beast rampaged anew.
Yet battle-hardened, they held stalemate.
Amazing comrades. Shame about the good times ending.
Hendrick turned his musket—not at the beast, but them.
"…Forgive me not."
Bang!
Flint struck, muzzle flashed. Flame arced, piercing heads one by one.
—Until their bullets claimed him. His eyes slowly shut amid the fray.