Chapter 100: Fiction and Reality in History
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“Captain, are you absolutely certain this is safe?” Alice’s eyes were wide with apprehension as she stared at the flickering ghost flame in Duncan’s palm, her fingers nervously clutching the lace trim of her dress. “I’d rather you not burn down my room, if you don’t mind.”
Duncan carefully balanced the ghost flame, glancing at Alice with a mix of reassurance and mild exasperation while surveying the area around her mysterious wooden coffin. “Alice, my control over the flame is impeccable. Don’t you have faith in my skills?”
Alice quickly waved her hands in the air, as if dismissing her previous worries. “Oh, I do, Captain, I truly do.”
Satisfied with her response, Duncan redirected his focus, his expression shifting to one of deep concentration.
Given the conditions aboard the Vanished, a thorough examination of Alice’s peculiar wooden coffin wasn’t feasible. However, this didn’t deter Duncan from initiating a preliminary investigation. With his refined mastery over the ghost flame, he sensed he was on the verge of uncovering new methods to probe the hidden properties of supernatural objects.
Although hesitant to use the flame directly on Alice, Duncan deemed it safer to investigate her ornate wooden box.
Mentally and physically prepared, Duncan extended his hand, allowing a slender wisp of the ethereal fire to dance from his fingertip onto the intricately carved surface of the wooden box.
The ghost flame seemed to dissolve into the wood like a spectral reflection. Alice’s eyes widened, captivated by the unfolding scene. After a tense silence, a surreal blaze erupted within the wooden box, spreading from the inside out. For a moment, the box appeared almost translucent, revealing its inner “skeletal” structure in a fantastical display.
“Oh my God, Captain, it’s actually burning! Look at it!” Alice exclaimed, her voice tinged with awe and excitement.
Duncan remained silent, his entire focus on maintaining control over the ghost flames and sensing the intricacies of the mysterious coffin. Entranced, he watched the flames flicker within the now semi-transparent box. Alice’s exclamations felt distant, barely penetrating his concentrated state.
A profound calm washed over Duncan, and the ambient noise around him, even the perpetual roiling waves of the Boundless Sea, faded from his awareness. He felt his spiritual energy extending into a vast, unexplored realm, with an increasing number of sensations funneling into his consciousness through the conduit established by the ghost flame.
This experience was entirely different from when he had used the flames to modify a solar amulet. The possibilities seemed endless, and he was gripped by a newfound excitement about what he might discover next.
If Duncan were to draw an analogy, using the flame to manipulate the sun amulet felt like a simple task, akin to filling a cup with water. Now, the sensation was utterly different—his ghost flame was pouring into what felt like a boundless lake. The scale of the experiences was so disparate, it was like comparing a firefly to a lighthouse.
Could this be the difference between a mass-produced magical object and a high-level anomaly, one that was ranked 099?
An epiphany struck Duncan as he felt his connection with the flame reach a pinnacle. The transfer of spiritual energy smoothed out, becoming as fluid as a river in full flow. A deluge of memories rushed into his consciousness, flooding his mind with vivid imagery.
He heard the sound of ocean waves crashing, the water lapping against an unfamiliar shore. A chilling wind whistled past towering, ancient walls frozen in a forgotten time. Vague, shadowy figures milled around, their forms barely discernible in the dim light.
Duncan felt as though he was floating a few meters above the ground. Astonished, he looked around and saw a foreign city-state with elevated platforms lining the coastline. Surrounding these platforms were myriad shadowy forms—seemingly a crowd, yet none were individually clear.
A haunting cacophony reverberated in all directions. It sounded like a crowd murmuring, but as Duncan strained to understand, he realized these were not human voices conversing. Instead, he heard countless inner monologues—a jumbled mess of thoughts, prayers to gods, nervous self-talk, and pleas emanating from deep seated fear.
Even though these shadows were silent, their inner voices roared across the platform like a tempestuous storm.
A visceral feeling surged within Duncan, compelling him to turn his head. Illuminated by dim celestial light, he saw a chilling sight—a towering guillotine, its blade glinting ominously in the darkness.
Connecting this vision with his limited historical knowledge and the background of Anomaly 099, Duncan suddenly understood where he was.
His gaze fell below the guillotine, and as his awareness crystallized, the blurry figure beneath it sharpened into focus.
It was the Queen—the Frost Queen, executed by rebels fifty years prior. Her silver hair flowed like a cascading waterfall, and her light purple eyes retained their luminance even in the enveloping darkness. Wearing only a thin gown despite the chill, she clenched her teeth to suppress any signs of shivering.
Her face was identical to Alice’s.
A strange emotion welled up within Duncan as he looked at the woman, who was the spitting image of Alice. Even though he understood this was the historical original, his mind was inevitably filled with thoughts of the cheerful and animated Alice on his ship. His pondering was suddenly interrupted by a voice that seemed to materialize out of thin air—”Your time has come, the Frost Queen.”
The voice was icy and remote, yet it carried an ethereal power that cut through the fog of ages, echoing hauntingly around the execution site beside the guillotine.
In an instant, Duncan observed two spectral figures materialize beside the Frost Queen, moving to force her to kneel under the sharp blade of the guillotine. However, the Frost Queen remained unmoving, her regal bearing making the ghostly figures seem ineffectual and weak, like children attempting a task far beyond their abilities.
The discordant sounds around Duncan surged in intensity, becoming a tumultuous wave of cacophony. The shadowy figures murmuring unintelligibly rippled and shifted, their nebulous forms blending with distinct shouts and cries. The chilling voice boomed again, now with an undercurrent of fury: “Silence! Maintain order on the execution ground!”
More spectral figures emerged, clustering around the guillotine. Despite her resistance, the Frost Queen was finally overpowered and compelled to kneel beneath the grim instrument of her demise. Though she knelt in the cold, unforgiving dust, she lifted her head to gaze stoically at the towering walls of a distant, enigmatic city-state. The guillotine’s blade began its slow ascent, the winch producing a screeching sound that sliced through the heavy air.
Duncan’s brow tightened in unease. Even though he knew he was witnessing a spectral fragment of history, the woman’s resemblance to Alice prompted him to instinctively step forward. It was as though he was compelled to reach out to her.
As he moved, the Frost Queen suddenly tilted her head, locking eyes with a point in space where Duncan stood, a place vacant in her historical context. She spoke softly yet clearly, “Whoever you are, please do not contaminate history.”
Caught off guard, Duncan froze. His astonishment escalated when another voice near the guillotine cried out, “Who are you speaking to?!”
The Frost Queen turned away, her gaze retreating as if she had reached a profound realization. A hint of relief washed over her stoic face. She seemed to direct her next words to the executioner: “Proceed, before the sun sets.”
The blade of the guillotine descended with horrifying finality.
A tidal wave of darkness enveloped everything, and the historical tableau splintered, disintegrating into fragmented beams of light. Duncan felt his spiritual connection to the scene weaken rapidly, indicating this haunting moment was ending. As the vision crumbled, he caught snatches of disjointed sounds. The voices faded, but he managed to discern bits of the conversation—
“…The Frost Queen is dead. We have severed the Vanished’s channel to the real world…”
“…Ray Nora attempted to build a second Vanished… She colluded with the shadows of subspace, the evidence is irrefutable, she deserves to die…”
These snippets lingered in his mind, echoing as he felt himself yanked back from the disintegrating vision. Duncan was left in profound confusion, with more questions than answers.
“…The incoming governor will bring stability back; all documents and artifacts related to the ‘Abyss Project’ are to be eradicated… Any informants may receive clemency…”
“Direct all forces to hunt down the rebel vessel, Sea Mist, and any navy defectors… Capture them, dead or alive… Wait, what is that noise? Evacuate immediately. The structure is collapsing!”
A cacophony of screams, shouts of terror, the overwhelming sound of gigantic edifices splintering and disintegrating, followed by the furious roar of chaotic waves crashing against each other.
Suddenly, Duncan felt catapulted from an abyss of all-consuming darkness, akin to a diver rocketing back to the surface from the deepest ocean trenches. The last sensations were apocalyptic noises—echoes of a cataclysmic collapse of a cliffside into the ocean.
Duncan had just witnessed a fragment of a long-gone era, an era dissolving into an abyss of eternal silence.
He encountered a spectral figure from history, who had entreated him not to tamper with the past.
Gradually, he opened his eyes to find himself back in his familiar cabin aboard his ship, surrounded by the comforting sounds of ocean waves gently slapping against the vessel. Before him sat the puppet he recognized, cheerily detaching its head with an audible “pop,” only to joyously reattach it a moment later.
Duncan: “…?”
His expression wavered between confusion and deep thought as he returned to tangible reality, distanced from the unsettling historical visions and portentous voices. Though back in familiar surroundings, the haunting questions from his experience lingered, casting a larger shadow over his thoughts.
that last line tho
Yay! We have reached one hundred chapters! Congrats, and thank you.
…. Was the Frost Queen implying Captain can even mess with history?
Maybe, everything that was reality could be controlled by Duncan.
History, rather than time, I would assume. The same information state corruption that he naturally emits such as in the hideout,taking over Ron
This send me the same chill when asg look at klein and said we meet again mystery
True man
Goddamnit, I was really immersed in the story, wondering if the reason the queen saw Duncan is because he’s so powerful he can even affect the past, then the last line came and it made me laugh.
Why are you so cute Alice.
This chapter brings more question about the true story behind Vanished’s incident 100 years ago