Captain – Chapter 751 – Epilogue (Part Three) – Burials, Vigil, and Repentance

The giant ship docked, and a black coffin was carried into the harbor.

This had been purchased and commissioned by Roy’s crew several years ago, before she left Providence to expedition to the old sea. It was originally prepared for that cheap ancestor.

Though through all these years of fighting to the death and calculating back and forth, she hated him to the bone.

But at the end of the day, he was still the Roy family’s ancestor. Moreover, in her heart’s deepest depths, beneath that ocean of hatred, there still remained some incomprehensible emotions.

Just as she had shown in that starry sky, in those final moments before parting.

Therefore, she had still prepared a coffin for that devil, thinking that if she won in the end, she’d just toss that man’s remains inside and bury him on the island.

And if her ancestor won…

That war’s outcome would surely be corpses strewn everywhere—no amount of coffins would suffice.

Fortunately, such a horrific scene never came to pass.

But though the girl hadn’t anticipated before departure that the destined battle would be so full of twists and dramatic ups and downs, with the devil ultimately scattering into starlight—

The black coffin was still put to use, because an equally important elder had passed away.

The last Guardian of Law, the former Great Captain, the sun in the Island pirates’ eyes that seemed like it would never set, the stern father figure on Roy’s legendary path—had closed his eyes forever.

Sleeping eternally for the present world.

When this news spread back, sorrow and dejection permeated every corner of the Islands.

In the time waiting for the old man’s soul to return home, even the most brutish thugs among the pirates, the most wine and pleasure-loving libertines, temporarily ceased hostilities or stopped their revelries. Taverns and pleasure houses led by the Banshee’s Eye all suspended operations.

Until the black coffin was buried.

This was the grandest mourning the Southern Islands had ever witnessed. One must understand that for pirates who lived for the moment, forget funerals—even being properly thrown into the sea after death was often merely a luxury.

Naturally, there were no related customs or habits—everything was spontaneous.

This showed the old man’s position in their hearts.

Time passed slowly in solemnity. The black coffin was carried down from the Victoria by several people, through the harbor, along the great city’s empty streets, toward the secret place.

Those carrying the black coffin were all the children, students, or followers closest to that old man. Though old and young of different ages, their positions in the Islands were without exception very high, with Roy and her father at the very front.

More people followed behind in sorrow and silence.

Under the starry night, they formed a vast dark mass, grand and solemn like an ocean of pilgrims.

Wherever the black coffin passed—harbor, great city—all lights were extinguished, even the great cathedral was no exception. Whether pirates, merchants, or clergy all stood on both sides, with faint prayer candles flickering and low sobs emerging.

On the funeral procession, Roy led the crowd forward with her eyes lowered throughout.

Whether because she had never experienced such an atmosphere, or because she was again remembering the times of being together, learning, opposing, and finally reconciling with the man in the black coffin.

It was like this the entire way, only when passing the great cathedral with warm candlelight burning before its doors did the girl glance that way, her eyes rippling with sadness.

Because leading the faithful in prayer was no longer that old bishop, but the priest who had once traveled with her and gained the old man’s recognition, along with black-robed chaplains.

During their approach to the sacred land through the strait, Roy had already learned from “Black Rose,” who came to receive them, that the venerable bishop had closed his eyes and passed away several months ago—on the very day of their victory.

Shortly after night ended and dawn broke.

As if after the human era truly began, he finally received the divine message from Lady Auran Goddess, knowing his mission was complete and following her summons.

Not being by the bedside at that moment to see the old bishop off filled Roy with immense regret and self-blame. What made her feel slightly better was the priest’s description relayed through “Black Rose”—the old man was still smiling when he fell asleep.

Whether he saw the gates of heaven opening, or foresaw the present world’s beautiful future.

But regardless, from that night when dawn broke on the island yet the Islands remained quiet and serene, the old man who had tirelessly preached and educated the Islands’ masses, dedicating his life to this foreign land—Archbishop Cappe—fell asleep in candlelight.

He lived to one hundred—quite a joyous funeral.

After that, the church held a grand funeral.

Not only did all believers and faithful from the Islands attend, but even important figures from the Auran Holy Church came. The funeral’s scale was no less than those of past popes.

But what made the visiting church envoys sigh was that they could not fulfill the Pope’s and red-robed archbishops’ wishes to escort the old man’s remains back to the church’s holy mountain for burial, because his will clearly stated he would not leave.

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He would be buried in this foreign land where he had lived and watched over for decades, alongside that old friend.

The “old friend” mentioned in the old bishop’s will was naturally the old man sleeping in the black coffin.

Archbishop Cappe had been buried months ago in the great cathedral’s underground cemetery, which would also be the final resting place for future Island bishops.

And now, his “old friend” had come home too.

The silent crowd surrounding the black coffin passed the great cathedral, followed the streets out the city gates, and finally stopped outside the dense forest—this was the end of the send-off.

The remaining path would be walked by only the black coffin and the old man’s close ones.

Watching the coffin-bearers’ gradually distant figures, watching that black coffin grow blurrier among the heavy tree shadows, sorrow and reluctance rippled through the crowd.

Though they had seen the black coffin and traveled with that old man for months, though they were aged, dignified regional overlords, the old captains standing silently at the crowd’s front still had reddened eyes, silently shedding tears.

After all, many years ago, in that man’s eyes, they too were just children.

In the dense forest.

After walking for who knows how long, the branches and leaves before Roy’s group gradually thinned, then parted completely. Under the woven starlight, the wooden house sat quietly.

With a soft creak, the black coffin was carried through the wooden door and placed in the small courtyard.

From the accompanying people’s expressions, apart from Gerard and Richi who had heard of this place from the girl, the others apparently didn’t know this place existed.

From this, one could also see that man’s feelings for Roy and her father were ultimately different.

Perhaps he truly had regarded the girl as a child?

Watching several old captains among the companions, or the vigorous great pirates, showing bewilderment that temporarily suppressed their sorrow, Roy naturally thought of this.

So when looking at the coffin, her gaze became more gentle and more sorrowful.

She couldn’t help thinking—if that was the case, why pretend to be so distant and stern then? If you’d spoken openly earlier, I could have spent more time with you.

But such thoughts were just fleeting.

Roy then thought resentfully—if it were like that, he wouldn’t be the Great Captain I knew. How could someone with such great love care about personal feelings ¹ It’s a bit confusing but in the raw “ 正因此，像他这般心怀大爱者哪会在意私情呢” the author plays on a contrast between two types of “love”: 大爱 (dà ài) = “great love” – meaning universal love, love for humanity/the greater good, 私情 (sī qíng) = “private feelings/emotions” – meaning personal, intimate relationships. ?

For this very reason, he sometimes seemed too heartless.

As the girl’s thoughts grew melancholy, the companions also completed their final farewells with that black coffin and the eternally sleeping man, nodding to her before departing one by one.

Richi, who was also among the funeral procession, was second to last to leave. Before going out, he approached, hesitated a moment, then reached out to gently pat her shoulder.

Telling her not to be too sad, and not to do anything foolish.

Naturally, this adult-like behavior was met with Roy’s deliberately calm eye roll, as if saying please, this captain isn’t such a fragile person.

Go accompany your girlfriend.

The youth didn’t mind this, smiled comfortingly at her, and left the courtyard.

“Don’t worry, I’m really fine.”

Besides Roy, the last one remaining in the cabin was naturally her father. Facing her old man’s concerned gaze, her explanation naturally included a few more sentences.

“We pirates should have long been familiar with this scene, familiar with life’s partings and death’s separations. When Captain Ilias passed away, I was the one who buried him too.”

“Just… Dad, you don’t need to wait for me.”

Meeting her father’s questioning gaze, Roy lowered her eyes slightly, her gaze falling on the silent black coffin: “Though there are no similar customs in the Islands.”

“I still want to keep him company for another night, keep vigil for one night. When I saw off Captain Ilias, I did the same thing. So please go back first.”

Gerard naturally understood his daughter’s mood and thoughts, didn’t object, only said he’d wait for her in the city. Finally taking a deep look at the black coffin, he went out.

The slightly grating friction sound rang again, then the wooden door closed and the courtyard became peaceful.

Only the girl and the silent black coffin remained.

Looking for a long time at the coffin that, like a starless night sky, had nothing but blackness with no extra engravings, Roy finally sighed lightly, withdrawing from her tangled emotions.

She turned and entered the adjacent house, emerging with a shovel in hand.

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This was something she had specifically bought from the city when they lived here before, to remove the eye-catching weeds in the courtyard. Back then, fired up with novelty, she had even planted many colorful flowers along the cleared soil’s edges.

Of course, because of her three-minute enthusiasm and rarely returning after going to sea—

Plus the old man’s lazy nature of not managing even the weeds that nearly filled the courtyard, let alone tending flowers—those delicate things had naturally long withered.

The tool in Roy’s hand no longer needed to turn soil and remove roots.

Because in the future, no one would live here permanently anymore. Only a great one’s monument would stand here. The shovel’s task was to dig out a resting place for that pirate who, looking across past and present, could be called the most remarkable.

Coming to the black coffin’s side, after lightly patting the coffin lid, the girl began digging.

The shovel face rose and fell repeatedly, sand and soil flying. The same process repeated tediously, but Roy felt no irritation, as if doing her duty.

But this didn’t mean this arduous task couldn’t be bypassed.

In fact, if the girl just willed it, never mind just sand and soil—even towering sea waves would immediately part. She just felt this was indispensable.

It could be called… a final farewell ceremony.

The sky full of stars twinkled, scattering radiance as if curiously watching this scene.

Not understanding why she, as the only “newborn,” would do such hard work—like light from the other shore, unable to comprehend the near-mad disputes between devil ancestors.

Who taught them they weren’t from the same world to begin with?

Finally, as the last cup of soil was covered and pressed down, the black coffin’s burial was complete.

Having finished all this, Roy wiped her forehead and carelessly sat on the ground, gazing abstractedly at that clean, tidy gravesite among the wild grass everywhere, feeling something was missing. After thinking for a while, she came to her senses with a bitter smile.

What was missing was a tombstone symbolizing identity.

Though to be fair, few people in the world had the fortune to know that old man’s name—even Roy herself only learned it by asking her father.

And presumably, even without a tombstone, the old man wouldn’t care. He was always casual and indifferent.

But this wasn’t good. Over time, that figure who always hid in shadows yet did so many things, even changing the present world’s fate…

Would blur in people’s memories, even disappear.

So there still needed to be a monument, whether for remembrance or for legacy.

But having overlooked this matter, seeking someone to make and carve a monument now was too late—who knows how many days it would take to complete. The girl could only do it herself.

Fortunately, she no longer needed to laboriously search for a stubborn stone and carve crooked characters like before.

Time had passed and things had changed—she was no longer that child crying helplessly in the rain, or the youth bewildered by losing support on the shore.

So much had really changed.

Smiling with emotion, Roy’s eyes that only reflected starlight in the darkness gradually brightened, but unlike before—or rather, since the destined battle ended—her devil’s pupils were no longer violent but warm like afternoon sun.

Because there was no more need for conquest and bloody battle, her great power, much gentler now, rippled like water waves.

A breeze gradually rose in the courtyard, bending the soft wild grass.

That shovel the girl had casually placed aside flew back into the house on its own. The wine cellar’s door deep underground opened wide, heavy wooden boards hidden among weeds flipped up, and several bottles of fine wine and a crystal cup flew up the stairs.

The commotion outside the courtyard was much greater, looking somewhat like a haunting.

In the silent dense forest, a solid stone rose and flew swaying toward the wooden house. During this time, countless stone chips and dust fell from the solid stone’s surface.

When it flew into the courtyard, it had become a fine monument inscribed with elegant patterns, clearly carved in the center with a name and a line of text—Captain Tiger Royell, my beloved guide, “stern father,” our Great Captain.

Looking at the beautiful wave patterns on the monument that she had drawn imitating the murals she’d seen in that far north lighthouse, as well as the name and following text, Roy smiled with satisfaction, thinking this would do—after all, you wouldn’t care anyway.

Besides, in the future when sweeping graves and removing weeds, she’d be the only one coming—there would be no outsiders.

Yes, that’s settled.

As the girl’s thought fell, the monument slowly sank, firmly embedding behind the grave.

At this point, this funeral was finally complete.

Under starlight, Roy began her night-long vigil, though it wasn’t tedious.

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She tasted rich red wine while recalling the moments shared with the old man in the black coffin, occasionally talking to him, asking questions like she was talking to herself.

Of course, no one would answer her anymore, though it had been the same way before.

She would pour wine beside the throne, chattering on and on. The old man would sit in the throne seemingly asleep but not asleep, listening, occasionally sipping wine but never answering those childish questions.

When annoyed by the disturbance, he’d wave his hand, sending her off to daily training or to fool around.

Remembering those old times, the smile on the girl’s wine-flushed face grew brighter. And just as she was thinking of that giant chair, the throne actually came.

This was also part of the earlier “haunting” events outside the courtyard.

When she was searching for stone to carve the monument, at the distant harbor, on the Victoria still shrouded in light mist, that throne at the ship’s bow rose into the air, frightening many crew members from the Goddess Hestia who had been assigned there to operate the ghost ship.

Only after staring dumbly as the throne flew away, flying toward the direction of the legendary secret place, did the pirates wake up one by one, realizing this must be the captain’s mischief.

But in fact, this was a rare misunderstanding.

Roy just felt that the throne that the old man had always “carried” with him as if by magic should return to his side to match her memories.

So the throne landed gently, perfectly resting against the back of the girl sitting among the wild grass, as if the old man hadn’t fallen asleep but still stood like a mountain behind her.

As always.

“Tell me, what exactly were we fighting over? Only to discover at the very end that the disputed issue, the so-called other shore, was just emptiness.”

“How meaningless, how wrongful.”

Cup after cup of wine went down, wine bottles gradually multiplying beside the throne.

The girl, not suppressing her intoxication, had a good alcohol tolerance but had drunk too much and was already red-faced with bleary eyes. Sometimes looking at the monument and underground black coffin, sometimes tilting her head to look at the starry sky, she asked the two elders who had forever departed.

Having experienced the ice sea battle, she had originally always believed that in this centuries-long stormy chess game, sitting on opposite sides of the table, holding pieces in opposition, had always been the Lady and her ancestor. Only much later did she discover this wasn’t the case.

Setting aside past Great Captains, Roy deeply knew that at least in the past hundred years, the one who played against the devil had already changed to the one in the grave.

It was he who forcibly pressed her ancestor’s power into the old sea, and in the final battle, made two brilliant moves, checkmating the devil twice.

The return of night curtain, starlight obstructed—either could be called a miracle among miracles.

To accomplish such feats, he was no different from a deity.

More importantly, like Captain Edward, he was a most orthodox pirate, one of the two most remarkable people in the Islands’ and even world history.

From this perspective, Richi wasn’t the Lady’s only choice for dealing with the devil’s lineage, but this made sense—after all, First Mate Isaac was also a pirate. Roy could see this clearly, just finding it all very absurd.

Fighting for so long, with so many dying for this, only to discover at the end that it was wrong from the beginning. Though unpredictable, this history was truly ridiculous.

Really… extremely wrongful.

Speaking thus to herself, the girl asked no more questions, only under the “gaze” of her ancestor in the starry sky and the old man in the black coffin, cup after cup, gloomily pouring down wine.

Until completely drunk, hugging her knees, leaning against the throne and falling into deep sleep.

When she woke again, it was already dawn.

Whether the drunkenness or the hangover headache, under her near-divine will, both vanished in an instant.

Roy’s eyes regained clarity. She looked at the monument and grave, silent for a long time, then smiled with relief. With a slight movement of thought, she cleaned up the mess she’d made drinking, then whispered: “When I have time, I’ll come back to drink with you.”

After speaking, the girl looked up again. Though the sky was fully bright with no stars or moon visible, she could still “see” the other shore: “Ancestor, you can barely count as one too.”

As the words fell, the vigil ended. Roy withdrew her gaze, braced herself against the throne to rise and leave.

People cannot remain children forever, or stay in yesterday—she was the same.

Therefore, after escorting the old man home and ending the funeral and vigil, Roy only stayed in Providence with her father and Caine for a few days before setting sail again.

The Goddess Hestia carried memories and yearning for the future toward the Empire.

Heading for that small town separated by several years, called Loriton.

Only this time, everything seemed to have returned to normal.

Richi and his companion stayed in the Islands with the Nightmare King, waiting to obtain Empire and Federation transit documents through the Great Captain’s channels before departing.

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Led by Wyatt, the Ghost Scythe crew remained in the Islands along with the Ark that Gerard had given to Enzo and them, waiting for the night curtain’s return.

As for the pirate fleet that returned together, they naturally scattered like birds and beasts or rejoined the guards.

Thus this long journey was again left to only Roy’s original crew and the giant ship traveling alone, appearing somewhat desolate, with fewer familiar faces on the ship.

Some returned to Yadris, some went back to their hometowns. After achieving pirates’ highest pursuit, they finally sought quiet, prosperous lives or pursued happiness.

The captain greatly approved of this, because she herself was walking this same path.

Apart from the departing pirates, the skeletal soldiers who had fought with the giant ship for a thousand years were quite satisfied with their current lives, having no desire to leave and experience new life, not even asking Roy to grant them senses like taste.

They were all remarkable pioneers, strong defenders who watched over humanity and fought against evil spirits in the dark age. Being able to see more of this world was enough.

The giant dragon similarly had no particular pursuits, still lazily lying at the Goddess Hestia’s bow, doing nothing daily but eating, drinking, sleeping soundly, and chasing and playing with the raven.

The only problem was that its size continued growing day by day. Roy and the others strongly suspected that someday it would truly grow mountain-sized.

Just like its petrified ancestors.

When that time came, never mind being able to afford keeping it—at least the ship definitely couldn’t hold it.

Fortunately, Nidhogg had long adapted to sky and sea, living among them wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Whenever the giant ship sailed into populated areas, it would stay in the sea.

But this was all for later—for it to grow that large would probably take a thousand years.

Not speaking of the giant dragon, another transcendent being on the giant ship—perhaps not really a being—the ship spirit, after finding the giant ship and successfully witnessing the source of hatred, Hydra and Jacob, perish, finally let go of her obsession.

But she still maintained that strange life form, didn’t disperse, only suddenly remembered many things—like her long-gone hometown and emotion-like curiosity. So after informing Roy, she disappeared.

She said she was going to find the scenery in her memories, to see the human world, or rather…

Frighten people?

But Roy knew anyway that the cross pendant she wore and the Goddess Hestia were the ghost girl’s anchors in the present world. Even if she got lost, she could find her way back, so she let her go, just not knowing when she’d have enough fun.

The giant ship sailed quietly in the Eastern Sea that Roy’s group knew best. After encountering several storms and being stopped twice at the alert line and customs—but avoiding inspection both times through the first mate’s current status—they successfully reached Auran.

Entering the same harbor where they had left the Empire and where the young Emperor had welcomed Caine.

After instructing Ben, Lance and others, along with several skeletal officers, to carefully conceal the undead and dragon’s whereabouts, Roy left the giant ship at the harbor.

Then she took her father and first mate by carriage toward Loriton.

Before even the warm red sunset on the horizon had moved much lower, the carriage reached its destination, entering that extremely familiar yet increasingly desolate small town.

This might be related to Governor Robert’s “defeat” several years ago at a residence not far from here—many people had moved away because of it. But more was actually just the inevitable pattern of things declining and the pursuit of better life.

The three walked on the small town’s lonely streets, stopping and starting like Roy’s previous visit. The first mate had been here before, so he was more showing the father around, describing her and her mother’s past life, though he had surely seen these scenes before.

But compared to listening to stories through memories, watching old scenery while hearing the person in them softly narrate and imagining those beautiful or sad situations that had occurred was always more engaging, making the man feel as if he truly returned to that time.

But recollection was ultimately recollection. Plus the girl’s mood issues meant she only said a few words at each place before moving on. The three quickly finished touring the old places.

After that, same as last time, the three bought three white chrysanthemums at a flower shop, then left the city, stepping into the countryside through deepening twilight.

After passing through a sparse forest, the grave gently embraced by withered leaves and that wooden board inscribed with a child’s words full of sorrow and love came into view.

Seeing her mother’s grave, Roy approached with Caine, half-kneeling to place the bouquet before the monument, softly speaking—mainly about not seeing Mom for so long, that she really came back alive.

Of course, she also brought back that man.

After reporting to and acting spoiled with her mother, Roy rose and walked back expressionlessly with her first mate. When they turned around, the person kneeling before the grave was completely different.

Under the twilight, the man’s towering, strong back that wouldn’t bend even facing the devil now trembled so terribly, as if aged many years in an instant.

Roy even faintly saw crystalline tears silently falling, shattering before the grave.

Such a figure—who through those dark, terrifying twenty years didn’t know how much suffering he endured or how much blood he shed, never shedding tears, even at the end gently holding his daughter’s hands while the black blade was withdrawn, still smiling.

But seeing his lover’s grave, when everything his daughter described was truly presented before his eyes, he began to weep—silently, sadly weeping without cease.

Those tears were called repentance.