Aztec Civilization: Destiny to Conquer America!

The setting sun has completely vanished, and the night devours the twilight. The sea stretches endlessly, and the distant contours of the South disappear into the rising darkness. From evening to night, the sounds of battle and cries have faded away, leaving only the relentless and unchanging sea wind, blowing tirelessly from east to west.

"Hoo!... Hoo hoo!..."

The eastern wind fills the sails, making them creak and sway. Two longships, scarred by battle, sway and sail swiftly towards the Western horizon.

The wind is strong, and the torch at the ship's bow, lit and sheltered by several people, struggles to keep its flame. Shadows on the ship move, bandaging each other's wounds, then silently collapse on the deck. Everyone seems like jellyfish drained of strength, quietly releasing bubbles, not even their breathing can be heard.

Old militia Chiwaco stands silently at the bow, motionless, like an aged wooden carving. He gazes at the pitch-black night, shrouding the lightless sea. The torchlight behind him moves from the deck to the depths of the cabin, then reappears, returning to his side.

"Captain Chi..."

Hearing this call, the old militia trembles slightly, a bit of life returning to his face. He stretches out a bloodstained palm, shielding his eyes as if blocking the glaring torchlight. He always preferred the light, but now, the darkness shows him more mercy.

"How's it going?"

The old militia's voice is somewhat hoarse, possibly from exhaustion or from shouting too much, damaging his throat. There is a tremor in his voice, as though fearing something.

"There are still twenty-nine people on the flagship. Fourteen lightly injured, seven severely injured, all bandaged as best we could..."

At these words, the old militia presses his lips but says nothing, his fingers trembling uncontrollably. Before the breakout in the afternoon, there were forty-two people on his ship. The entire fleet had over one hundred and sixty. But now...

The old militia lifts his head, glancing once more at the sea behind him. There, another longship that broke through also raises its sail, trying hard to follow the flagship.

"How are they?"

"Probably about the same as us. As for specific numbers... we'll have to wait until daybreak and use flags to signal. Or, we could stop now..."

"We can't stop! Keep going."

The old militia shakes his head. He gazes at the somber sea, feels the steadily increasing wind, and grits his teeth.

"The storm is right behind us, chasing us... and the food on board... there isn't much left..."

"Yes. I checked, there's enough for three days... The good news is, at the current speed, three days is enough for us to bypass the enemy Totonac coast!"

Hearing this, the old militia lifts his head, for the first time looking at the torch. Under its flickering, dim light, his eyes appear somewhat clouded and reddish. He slowly watches it for a while, observes the flickering flame, and slowly nods.

"You're right, Mekate... I should have made the decision earlier to head the fleet into the deep sea..."

"May the Chief Divine protect us!..."

Priest Mekate holds the torch carefully, shielding it from the wind. He mutters a low prayer, then sighs.

"Captain Chiwaco, you've done very well! Before this afternoon, no one could have expected... the Tototanak people to amass such a fleet, bringing so many samurais. They gave no warning, didn't even hesitate, directly lunging at us... like... like a snake that's been waiting, already aiming for a long time..."

"A snake..."

The old militia presses his lips, lowering his head, chewing on the word. After a while, he speaks again.

"Those in the cabin... how are they?"

"Yes. The four children are unharmed. Earlier, I went down, and Tidan is still in a daze, asking where grandpa went..."

"What did you tell them?"

"I told them not to worry. Little grandpa will take good care of them... always take good care..."

Hearing this, the old militia stretches out his hand, pressing it slowly against his chest, taking deep breaths for a while. His eyes gradually clear, becoming deep like the sea at this moment. He silently watches the Mekate priest in front of him, who returns his gaze. And the flickering torch between them lights up half of each face, casting the other half in shadow.

"Mekate..."

"Captain Chi?"

"I want to ask you a question."

"Please, ask."

"This afternoon, before the breakout... why did you force Tikalo to his death? Did you really... not trust him?"

The old militia's voice is very soft, yet hoarse. Priest Mekate raises his eyebrows, glancing at the dark sky, finding no stars to navigate by. He gazes silently for a while, then answers softly.

"For the kingdom..."

"For the kingdom?"

"Yes. Tikalo, he's uncontrollable."

"Uncontrollable?"

"Yes."

Mekate nods, explains calmly, with a rare, faint hint of malice in his voice.

"He knows King Aweit, always wanting to send the hostages of the Mayapan Royalty to the Lake Capital City... But these children, the place they truly should go... is the Qinchongcan Capital... They belong to the kingdom! Not the Alliance."

"..."

Hearing this cold answer, old militia Chiwaco presses his lips, silent for a long time. His eyes deep, he stares at the Mekate priest, examining him closely for a long time, as if seeing him for the first time.

Finally, the old militia Chiwaco shakes his head, looks at the shadowed Mekate priest, and sighs lightly.

"Perhaps, you're right... His Majesty should have entrusted the fleet to you..."

"No."

Mekate priest also shakes his head. He lifts the torch, looking at Chiwaco in the firelight, responding sincerely.

"The Chief Divine bear witness! Captain Chi, you're the best fleet captain!..."

The wind picks up again. Just a few breaths, and the torch held high is extinguished by the howling east wind, ending their conversation. The two stand at the bow, side by side in the darkness, watching the unlit sea, observing the unknown path ahead.

Behind them, the deep storm churns across the sea, pursuing with speed faster than the longships!

"Oh Chief Divine! May you protect us, let us survive the storm!..."

The storm is swift, and the next dawn brings no sunlight, only gusting winds whipping the waves, and raindrops pelting down. All aboard barely utter their fervent prayers before being engulfed by the sweeping wind and rain. The two battered longships, like toys in the hands of the Sea God, roll and sway, entirely at its mercy in the tumultuous waves.

Yet the Sea God's whims are unpredictable, like those of a capricious child. It tosses the waves, plays with its wooden toys for a while, then casually throws them westward. After half a day, its interest returns; it picks up the wooden boats again, spinning and shaking them around haphazardly, then tosses them once more.

"Oh Chief Divine! No! Don't!..."

This casual play continues unabated for three days! Until the crew of the flagship cries out in alarm, watching the other longship disintegrate completely in the storm, turning into splintered wood and individuals sinking into the sea. Then, mighty waves come crashing down, erasing every trace in an instant!

At this point, the Sea God seems to have grown tired. It shifts the storm's direction, and the clouds turn, taking a full day to roar away.

"The sun?... The sun! The sun is out!..."

"Ah! The Chief Divine bestows sunlight upon us!"

"Where... Where are we?"

Famished, the crew of the flagship binds themselves tightly to the longship at various points. Bright sunshine falls from the blue sky, illuminating the sparkling sea, like a scene from a dream.

And the only thing unchanged is the fierce wind blowing westward. It is far more patient than the storm, endlessly driving the longship further west, further west, deeper into the sea!