"[Brain Storage, half-joking, multiple female leads, don't take it too seriously. Those who had a good colonial life later...]"
"[New book, don't be fooled by the rating!]"
Salty seawater.
Roger's lungs were about to burst.
His ears were ringing, and the water pressure made his eardrums ache.
Others usually transmigrated to absolutely safe places at first.
But he...
Transmigrated into the middle of the ocean!
Are you kidding me?!
The light in front of him grew smaller and further away, finally shrinking into a barely visible white dot.
Darkness enveloped him from all directions, gentle yet a trap.
It's over.
This was Roger's last thought.
Just a second before his consciousness completely vanished, a mechanical voice devoid of any emotion exploded in his mind.
"[System activating...]"
"[Detecting Host's vital signs are about to disappear... Binding conditions met...]"
"[Binding 'Great Navigator' System... Binding successful!]"
An illusion?
Do people always hallucinate so much before they die?
"[Newbie gift package issued.]"
"[Unlocked: Ancient Era Template.]"
"[Obtained: Technology Tree - Ancient Ship Technology]"
"[Obtained: Personal Skill - Basic Seamanship]"
His heavy body, under the system's influence, began to float upwards uncontrollably.
"Pfft—"
Roger's head suddenly broke the surface of the water, and he gasped for the humid, salty air like a fish out of water, desperately breathing.
He coughed violently, his chest tearing, tears and snot streaming down his face.
After a long while, he slowly recovered, lying quietly on the sea, drifting with the waves.
It was pitch black all around, with only a dim yellow lantern swaying with the waves in the distance, like a firefly in the night.
"Hey! There's someone in the water!"
A rough shout pierced the night sky.
Immediately after, a thick, sturdy rope was thrown over.
It hit the water in front of him with a "thwack," splashing water.
Roger, almost instinctively, used the last shred of his strength to grasp the rope tightly.
This was his fate... His cheek pressed against the cold, hard wooden plank, and a strange smell mixed with fish, tar, and cheap rum rudely assailed his nose.
Someone was roughly patting him down, turning out all his pockets.
"Damn it, just a pauper, not even a single coin."
A hoarse, unpleasant voice grumbled above his head.
Another voice spoke:
"The fabric of his clothes is quite good, though. Strip them off; we can get a couple of copper coins for them at the port later."
Roger's heart tightened, and he struggled to open his eyelids.
Everything in his sight was blurry.
The swaying ship, the tattered sails, and the faces surrounding him.
These men's faces were like walnut shells weathered by decades of sea wind, dry and wrinkled, with high noses and deep-set eyes.
Their attire... was strange.
Like European sailors from centuries ago in a movie.
"Wake him up and ask which ship he's the unlucky fellow from."
As soon as he finished speaking, a ladle of icy seawater was poured over his head.
Roger shivered, the cold water bringing him fully awake.
He sat up abruptly, warily looking at the men surrounding him.
They were speaking English, with a strange accent, but Roger could understand it.
"Kid, awake?"
A One-Eyed Man, an old sailor, squatted in front of him.
He grinned, revealing a mouth full of yellow teeth, several of which were missing, causing his speech to whistle. "Which ship are you from?"
Roger's throat burned, and he opened his mouth but couldn't utter a single word.
His mind was still a mess.
Betrayed by the captain and his crew, thrown into the sea, and then... rescued by these people who looked even more dangerous?
And what about that voice in his head?
His gaze drifted involuntarily, and then, his entire body froze.
A translucent blue panel, visible only to him, was quietly suspended in the lower right corner of his vision.
"[Name: Roger]"
"[Era: Ancient]"
"[Technology Tree: Ancient Ship Technology (0 - Inactive)]"
"[Artifacts: None]"
"[Gold Coins: 0]"
Fuck!
This wasn't an illusion!
The One-Eyed Man saw Roger staring blankly, silent, and impatiently spat on the deck.
"Looks like he's scared silly. Who cares, it's just one more person to do the work, saves us the trouble."
A tall sailor carrying a coil of rope walked by, chuckling:
"Captain Barbossa likes this kind of free labor."
Another person lowered his voice and said:
"Hope he doesn't run off as soon as we reach Tortuga, like the last one."
Barbossa... Tortuga...?
These two words, like two flashes of lightning, instantly cut through Roger's muddled thoughts.
He suddenly looked up, incredulously surveying the dilapidated single-masted sailboat, looking at the cutlasses and old flintlock pistols hanging from the crew's waists.
A thought so absurd it made him shiver slowly formed in his mind.
He wasn't rescued.
He... had transmigrated.
This was the world of *Pirates of the Caribbean*!
"What are you looking at, kid!"
The One-Eyed Man, seeing him still dazed, impatiently poked his shin with the tip of his boot.
"If you don't want to be thrown back into the sea to feed the fish, get up and work!"
Roger lowered his head, hiding the shock in his eyes.
He leaned on the ship's rail and shakily stood up.
What he felt in his palms was the rough, salt-encrusted texture of wood.
It was as real as could be!
He had survived.
That was the only important thing right now.
He looked down at himself; his modern quick-drying sailor uniform was soaked, clinging tightly to his body, completely out of place compared to the attire of the pirates around him.
He needed to change these clothes as soon as possible; they were too conspicuous.
His gaze once again fell on the system panel that only he could see.
Gold Coins: 0.
The 'Technology Tree' column had a grayed-out "Inactive" next to it.
In this world where life was cheaper than rum, having no power meant a dead end.
This system was his only hope.
His first small goal was now incredibly clear.
Make money.
He had to get money first to figure out what this so-called "Great Navigator" system was all about.