Pirate Kingship-Chapter 619 - 441: Shocking News, The Death of the Gods (Essential Core Setting Must See)!

The winter in the Southern Hemisphere is the exact opposite of that in the Northern Hemisphere. June to August are the coldest months of the year.

The Golden Deer had left the warm climate of Chinchasuyu, close to the equatorial Celestial Orbital Belt. The farther south they sailed, the colder it became.

Moreover, the ocean current near the western coast of the Southern Continent was a powerful cold current surging from the south. Originating from frigid polar waters tinged with a faint, eerie blue, the mere sight of it could make one shiver uncontrollably.

Byron and his group had barely completed two-thirds of their journey when a blizzard began to howl.

WHOOSH WHOOSH WHOOSH...

The sea roiled with massive waves, and fist-sized snowflakes hammered down. The temperature plummeted as if off a cliff to minus twenty degrees Celsius.

Countless Ice Elemental Spirits, visible to the naked eye, danced hand-in-hand in the sky, cheering gleefully, only to dissolve completely the instant they touched the seawater. 𝒇𝓻𝓮𝓮𝙬𝙚𝒃𝒏𝓸𝙫𝒆𝙡.𝓬𝓸𝒎

Fortunately, a northwest wind blew along the West Coast in July. The Golden Deer, at least, had the most favorable tailwind for sailing, sparing them from battling both headwinds and opposing currents in such ghastly weather.

The ship was well-stocked. Under the command of Bayfolk officers like Bruh, Gus, and Eight-Fingers, the crew had promptly donned thick winter clothes.

At the bow of the ship, Violet had reverted to her true form. Aside from an impeccably tailored cashmere dress, she also wore a white deerskin cloak—a gift from Queen Consort Aya—making her look exceptionally pretty and adorable.

This Bayfolk princess spread out her fair palms to catch the snowflakes, watching them gradually melt from her body heat.

Her sapphire-like eyes twinkled. She was apparently more adapted to this kind of weather, similar to her hometown of Iron Anchor Bay, than to the tropics. Not only was she unbothered by the cold, but her spirits also felt considerably uplifted.

"Byron, in our homeland, the farther north you go, the colder it becomes. Yet, in the Southern Hemisphere, it's the farther south you venture, the colder it gets.

This coastal current is also exceptionally powerful—four hundred kilometers wide and several thousand kilometers long. No wonder it allows for the curing of dried shark, much like at Black Tide Island and Iron Anchor Bay.

It even allows many cold-climate creatures on the Sparrow Archipelago to thrive.

This world is truly miraculous."

Every Bayfolk had restless blood coursing through their veins. Adventuring to the ends of the world was, apart from studying explosives, one of Violet's favorite pursuits.

Byron stood beside the girl, naturally slipping her small, soft hands into his own pockets to rewarm them.

At that moment, a huge school of fish was leaping out of the waves before them, fleeing their natural predators.

This West Coast cold current was even larger in scale than the First Circulation Zone. The upwelling of nutrients it caused had even created a vast super-fishery.

Sardines, skipjack tuna, and cod—many times larger than their counterparts elsewhere—were abundant.

Even without local specialties like whale oil, rubber, tung oil, gold, and silver, merely fishing here would undoubtedly allow fishermen to make a fortune.

Moreover, this massive cold current brought not only enormous schools of fish but also some unusual things from even farther south.

While ostensibly enjoying the scenery with Violet, Byron was actually diligently searching the sea surface when his eyes suddenly lit up.

"Found one! There's another here!"

With a wave of his hand, an Elemental Hand of Wind spiraled up from the sea, retrieving a glass wine bottle and depositing it into Byron's grasp.

The bottle was clearly sealed with a wooden cork. Inside its belly lay a rolled-up strip of parchment—a standard drift bottle.

Looking down, they saw five or six empty wine bottles already lying at their feet—the spoils of their southward journey so far.

Clearly, the number of drift bottles scattered along this current was far greater than they had initially imagined.

However, upon opening them, they found that every bottle contained a strip of parchment with the same message, written in red ink and Runes, bearing the same coordinates and the same sentence:

Edge of the World, 57.3 degrees South Latitude, 66 degrees West Longitude.

Remember, the Great Flood has never receded!

The newly retrieved bottle was no exception.

But Byron knew from the scent alone that the messages weren't written in red ink, but in human blood!

The handwriting and the source of the blood in each drift bottle varied; it seemed many different individuals had used their own blood to pen these messages.

Clearly, this entire affair had been strange from the very beginning.

As The Golden Deer drew closer to the destination marked on the notes, the writing in the retrieved drift bottles became increasingly erratic and distorted, gradually becoming suffused with an undeniable madness.

By the time they retrieved this seventh drift bottle, the handwriting was nearly indecipherable and bore suspicious, dried stains.

It no longer looked like the work of human hands but rather as if written by some damp, alien appendage.

A mere glance suggested that tangible madness had solidified into parasitic worms, attempting to burrow through the eyes and into the brain.

Of course, such a degree of contamination couldn't harm Byron, a Fourth Order Mythical Creature. Its lethality was less than that of a wisp of frigid air.

He handed the note to Violet beside him, saying, "The situation there is clearly deteriorating, and the memetic contamination is getting more serious."

Turning his head, he asked Gus, who had approached, "How is Nitenum doing?"

"Captain," Gus replied, somewhat apprehensively, "he only glanced at the first note by accident. The contamination wasn't severe, and he has just regained consciousness."

Initially, the watch officers hadn't noticed anything amiss with the drift bottles. Unfortunately, a crewman native to the Aztec Empire had been inadvertently contaminated as a result.