Captain – Chapter 314 – The Blossoming Fire

The siren’s song was an undying beacon, and siren blood was the finest fuel.

Therefore, from every perspective, imprisoning a siren in the ice tower as the key to Satin Island was the best choice. Even the scholar, who deeply detested the devil’s methods, had never denied this point.

To ensure the key’s uniqueness and prevent her from being rescued by kin who might hear her call, Edward killed all sirens except for her—not difficult to understand.

As for this deadly trap, it displayed his cruelty and malice to perfection. Even Roy felt a deep, penetrating coldness, which allowed the scholar to exploit her vulnerability, using it as the most powerful evidence to persuade her to break with the devil.

Given this seamless chain of events, even the most reluctant person would likely be rendered speechless, forced to accept it all.

But Roy hadn’t.

Perhaps due to her distrust of Bivis, or her complex feelings toward the devil—whatever the reason—she hadn’t silently accepted it. Before truly giving up, she had given it some thought, which led to the descent of the curse and the assistance of that extraordinary power.

She’d found a vague path to breaking the deadlock.

Taking a deep breath, Roy calmed herself and once more raised the dagger that had been hanging at her side. This time, however, the knife tip was directed not at the siren, but at her own left index finger.

After her previous reflection, the inconsistency Roy had found actually lay in the “unique key” that the siren symbolized—specifically in the word “unique.”

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The devil had built the Acherousian Lighthouse, made the siren sing upon it, and ensured that only his chosen one could hear the song. All this indicated his high regard for Satin Island, or the magical box buried there, and his extreme vigilance toward the Lady.

A deity, even with her power sealed and freedom taken, remained his most powerful and troublesome adversary in the world as long as she existed.

For this reason, Edward had ceased concerning himself with worldly affairs hundreds of years ago, sailing his warship across all seas to find the Lady’s whereabouts and eliminate his greatest threat.

Unfortunately, just as the Lady could never find Satin Island, the devil hadn’t found her either. Or perhaps before approaching that nameless island, he had encountered the betrayal and conquest of those great individuals, suffering curses and seals, falling into a situation similar to the Lady’s.

Perhaps to prevent all this from happening, there had been that merciless slaughter, the creation of the Acherousian Lighthouse, and many other arrangements.

Later, Roy had followed the crystal skull’s guidance to Devil’s Island, met him, and then was designated as the killing move against the Lady under the pretext of a wager.

Considering all this, her encounter with the Victoria, her rescue of Bivis, learning the story of Satin Island, being guided step by step, and finally embarking on this journey—not all of it was necessarily the Lady’s doing. The devil surely had his part in it as well.

If so, how could the devil possibly be unaware of what the scholar had said? How could he possibly overlook the Lady’s move or the threat of the Death Silence?

Returning to the main issue: how did he ensure that after the lighthouse appeared, the Death Silence wouldn’t intervene or even arrive before her?

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Since entering the lighthouse, she had never encountered any obstacles.

This might relate to her identity, but more likely, there simply weren’t any defensive measures in place. Everything naturally fell upon this ice basin, the liquid within it, and the siren sleeping in the crystal coffin.

If everything aligned with her previous deduction—that the siren was the only key, and providing enough of her blood would make the liquid in the ice basin reach its ignition point and light the lighthouse—wouldn’t that mean anyone coming here would make no difference?

The Lady’s servants could equally enter the lighthouse, kill the siren, take her blood, and use it to find Satin Island’s location. What meaning would all the devil’s preparations have then? Wouldn’t they all become gifts to his mortal enemy, the most absurd joke?

Edward, capable of deceiving deities, was naturally the world’s most cunning person. How could he make such a blunder, causing those after him to lose faith, giving others the advantage?

Roy knew this was impossible.

Because then the key would no longer be unique. How could a key not exclusively usable by one person be considered safe enough? Similarly, this trap would no longer be perfect; it would become a deadly trap for himself.

Since this was impossible, the siren naturally wasn’t the only key—she might even be a false option provided by the devil, a deadly trap.

So who was the true key?

Roy guessed herself.

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By now, many secrets had surfaced, many answers were becoming clear. She understood why the devil had chosen her, understood whose blood truly flowed within her…

So your full name is Edward Roy.

The captain’s eyelids lowered slightly as she thought silently. At the same time, the dagger pierced her fingertip.

She held her hand over the ice basin, staring unblinkingly at the crimson blood drop gathering on her fingertip, about to fall.

To ensure the lighthouse trap’s perfection, to guarantee that only I can open that door, the true unique key… naturally can only be me.

The fuel to light the lighthouse fire isn’t siren blood, but the blood of the devil’s descendant.

“Drip.”

The blood drop fell into the deep blue sea.

A clear, melodious sound spread without any sluggishness, like raindrops falling on a calm sea surface, like a key unlocking an ancient door.

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The crimson blood wasn’t devoured by the sea but gradually diffused, flowing into every part of the ocean, releasing all the immense heat stored in its depths.

If siren blood was a spark that could start a prairie fire yet would be extinguished in the icy sea, then blood containing the devil’s power was a true volcano, sleeping in the deep sea for hundreds years, becoming unstoppable once erupting, burning everything.

A spark of fire suddenly flashed in the ice basin.

Roy grabbed the wrist of the dumbfounded siren beside her, leading her to step back slowly. The raven perched on the captain’s shoulder let out a bright call, joyful and excited.

“It’s burning, it’s burning!”

With Alfie’s call, all the deep blue light points in the air poured into the ice basin like moths drawn to a flame. The top floor of the lighthouse thus fell into darkness, even the previously illuminated patterns on the ice basin dimmed.

“Crack.”

With a faint explosive sound, a weak fire lit up in the darkness.

The flame wasn’t an ordinary warm color, nor a mysterious cold deep blue, but a gorgeous, dazzling gold, like the shining eyes of the devil.