Monsters on the Wreck and the Shipwreck Ghost
Though the ghost of the shipwreck was the root of all these problems, right now the only thing I could rely on was this rusted sword that felt like a blunt club, so I hurriedly picked it up again.
The sound had echoed through the eerily quiet place despite the distance, so I figured the monster had definitely heard it.
Still, just maybe the distance would buy me time before it noticed me. I poked my head out over the railing to check its movements.
"Kieeeek!"
"Uwaaak!"
The grotesque monster scaled the shipwreck's wall like a fly on a pane, charging straight toward me at terrifying speed. It had taken me ages to climb up to the deck, but this thing closed the gap in seconds, making my efforts look pathetic.
I tried to bolt from my spot, but it was already too late. If I had to fight, now was the moment—while it was still accelerating to leap onto the deck. I gripped the rough handle of the cutlass tightly.
Its intelligence didn't seem to match its physical prowess; I could predict its trajectory easily enough.
Yujin's body couldn't channel neigong, so no fancy supernatural abilities, but his waigong mastery made his raw physical power nothing to scoff at.
As it hurled itself from the railing to land on the deck, I swung the cutlass like a baseball bat, right on target.
Stat correction applied. Power reduced by 60%.
Some deflating message flashed before my eyes, but I had no time to dwell—I focused on the enemy.
Thwack! A sharp pain shot through my hand, accompanied by the heavy, bursting sound of something solid giving way.
Did I get it? Checking the monster, its shoulder was smashed beyond use.
My hand was scraped raw from swinging the pitted, rusty cutlass so hard, stinging like hell, but I could endure it. I had to finish it off before it recovered. I gripped the hilt again tightly.
"Grrruk, kyaeeek!"
It let out an even more unearthly screech than before, pain twisting its cry into something that grated like nails on a chalkboard—unpleasant, viscerally wrong. My gamer instincts kicked in; it wasn't just annoying, something felt off.
I swung at its head. Thwack! Black, foul liquid—not quite blood—sprayed everywhere as its skull exploded.
"Haa, haa."
My whole body was sticky from the splatter, gross as hell, but I'd somehow pulled through. Thank god it was just one. If they'd come in a pack—or even one more—I'd have been fucked for real… probably?
"Huh?"
Crack, crack, crack!
Dread hit me as the alien sounds grew louder. I peered over the railing where the first one had come from.
"Krrk." "Guek."
A dozen or more of the same monsters swarmed below. How the hell had that many gathered so fast? Their beeline for the ship left no doubt about their target.
I'm fucked.
The first one must've called its buddies.
No escaping now. The lead monster closed in in seconds, the rest right behind.
"Fuck off! Get the hell away!" I swung the weapon wildly, resisting for all I was worth.
But my hands were bleeding too badly now—scrapes had turned to gashes. Landing a solid hit was impossible.
How the fuck am I supposed to deal with this?
They knew they had me outnumbered, smirking like they were toying with me.
"Kekekeke."
Revenge for their dead pal? Nah, more like bored kids finding a fun toy.
One, maybe two—I could've handled. That many? No chance in hell, dead or alive.
"Ngh."
Slash!
Outnumbered and outmatched, I started taking hits. At first, just grazed by dull claws.
"Argh!"
Now they were piling on, shoving me flat on my back. Strength drained from my limbs as they closed in.
Nothing left to do, and it ends like this? Might as well relax into it? Dark thoughts flooded my mind when—
[Lad, over here!]
A faint human voice echoed from somewhere. A survivor? No time to investigate—the situation was too dire. Reflexively, I hurled myself that way.
[Hurry, there's a gap between the barrels!]
A depression between empty barrels on the floor. Why hadn't I seen it before? No time for questions. Crash!
"Kieeek, kek."
I slid in, and weirdly, the pursuing monsters stopped short, unable to follow.
"I-I lived."
Panting, I forced my trembling body to calm. Adrenaline surged, heart pounding wildly. Part of me wanted to lie there forever. If not for my rescuer, I might've.
But priorities first. Once my breathing steadied, I sat up to thank my savior.
"Thank you so much for the help. I was this close to real trouble."
Sincere gratitude poured out.
Huh?
But unease crept in—no human presence in this cramped space, even after all that chaos. Scanning around, nothing.
[Over here, lad.]
To my panicked face, the voice spoke again. Looking up—
"…G-Ghost?"
[Can you see me, lad?]
There, floating midair: a translucent figure straight out of an Age of Sail game, dressed like a sailor.
*
'Do ghosts exist?' Answers varied.
Skeptics cited gravity and orbits—how could a ghost fix its position? Believers pointed to universal soul lore across cultures.
[Not panicking, eh? You're no ordinary fellow.]
Me? 'I dunno.' Never cared much.
This wasn't 'real life'—it was a game world. Fiction? Anything goes. So I accepted it casually. But scarier than the ghost?
"Um, hello? Nice to meet you, and you?"
Language. Irony of possession: knowledge injected into the brain, yet old habits die hard.
Only realized after blurting it. Modern Koreans struggle in Joseon era; English should've been impossible too.
[¿Qué dijiste? English? Don't even mention it! How dare you speak that tongue of stupid, arrogant English pigs before me? You look decent enough, but rude inside, lad.]
"Uh, do you speak Korean? No, wait—Middle Kingdom tongue?"
His reply surprised me. I'd understood his first words too.
The unfamiliarity amplified the visual mismatch.
[Middle Kingdom? You're from China (Qi Na), then?]
What to say? Content or packaging? Even then—Goryeo? Joseon? Korean? Philosophical mess. But pointless overthinking. Decision came quick.
Hongsim Yeonhwa.
That dogshit world full of betrayals? Instinctual disgust. No peace here either.
"No. I'm from Joseon."
[Joseon? Never heard of it. Where's that?]
"Uh, how to explain… Ah! Goryeo, Goryeo."
[Goryeo? Goryeo… Ah! You mean Corea!]
Compromise: I'm just an actor who stumbled onto the Hongsim Yeonhwa stage. Get off quick as possible.
"Anyway, you're pretty versatile, huh? Wild that we can chat so easily."
Foreigner from early modern era, yet no language barrier. Baffling. He looked puzzled too, translucent face scrunched.
One thought: impossible in reality.
Chatting with a ghost was already unreal, but this detail screamed game world.
[Dunno. My spirit nature, maybe? Beats me. …We'll chat details later. Looks like you washed up here too, eh? Fate to meet like this. Pleased to meet ya—I'm Hendrick.]
The spirit named Hendrick extended a translucent hand for a shake.
"Ah, pleased to meet you. I'm… Yujin."
I reached out, but our hands passed through empty air. …Huh?
Expected, but awkward. How to react?
[Ah, haha! Truth be told, I hate shaking hands with other men anyway. Perfect! You too, right?]
He felt it too, covering awkwardly with consideration. Grateful.
"Y-Yeah. My hands are all cut up anyway. Still, glad we met."
Sincere thanks again. He boomed a hearty "Haha!"
That was it—the first and last fateful encounter in this world for me, or Yujin: the Shipwreck Ghost.