Chapter 107: Super Contagious
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Amid the serene rise and fall of the ocean waves, the ghostly Vanished sailed smoothly, undisturbed by any landmarks or navigational aids. Despite several days at sea, no islands or buoys had appeared on the horizon, making the journey seem endless.
Captain Duncan, the enigmatic helmsman of this ancient vessel, found little time for idleness. His mind was occupied with numerous concerns demanding his attention and intellect.
In the solitude of his private chamber, Duncan’s gaze briefly lingered on a golden mask shaped like a sun, resting quietly on his desk. Yet, the mask was just one of many concerns on his mind, and it could wait. Issues related to Alice, follow-up experiments, and research into the mysterious “Anomaly 099” were also on hold. The Frostbite Rebellion, a significant uprising from fifty years ago, did not require his immediate focus either. However, one concern tugged deeply at his core.
Above his desk hung a mirror, once flickering with emerald flames and vivid images. Now, it was just a plain, lifeless glass. Yet, Duncan sensed a subtle, almost intangible connection through the mirror, drawing him toward a cathedral in the heart of the City-State of Pland.
This faint link, reminiscent of his stronger connections to the “Antique Shopkeeper” and the “White Oak,” felt more tenuous, like a secondary channel stemming from a more definite link.
As he closed his eyes gently, Duncan noticed a small opening on a brass compass atop a chest labeled ‘Ai.’ From this tiny gap, an ethereal green flame emerged, quietly burning.
Moments later, he found himself enveloped by a celestial void, a dark expanse punctuated by myriad twinkling stars and streams of luminescent light. Unlike previous occasions, Duncan refrained from embarking on a “spirit walk.” Instead, he lingered at the edge of entering the spirit realm, meticulously studying the intricate patterns of light and individual stars.
First, he observed the most radiant star, symbolizing his other self, busy cleaning a warehouse and doing inventory at the antique shop. Next, his attention was drawn to a diffuse haze of light, significantly larger than a typical star, representing the “White Oak,” a steamship that had disastrously collided with the Vanished and been reduced to ashes by Duncan’s ghost flames.
Among the sea of indistinct, nebulous stars, one in particular caught his eye—a star holding a faint, elusive connection to him. Intrigued, Duncan drew closer, eager to scrutinize this mysterious cluster of starlight in more detail.
As Duncan approached the mysterious cluster, he felt a gentle but discernible force pushing back. The sensation wasn’t overwhelming; it felt like an innate, unyielding will safeguarding itself. Duncan sensed he could obliterate this subconscious barrier with his ghostly fire but decided against it. He pulled back slightly, maintaining a respectful distance from the mysterious luminescence.
He suspected this particular starlight likely represented Vanna, an Inquisitor and Storm Saint—a formidable supernatural entity. Making contact recklessly could potentially alert Vanna or, in the worst case, the deity she served. Given Duncan’s limited understanding of this world’s pantheon, he was unwilling to gamble.
Moreover, he pondered the nature of this faint but clear repulsion emanating from the starlight. Each celestial point seemed unique. When he first took possession of the “sacrifice” body, he encountered no such resistance. Nor did he feel pushback when inhabiting the newly deceased body of Ron, a cultist. So, why did Vanna’s starlight repel him?
Was it because she was still alive? Could her living spirit instinctively resist an unknowable encroachment? Or was it a protective layer instilled by her faith and a divine blessing?
Duncan eased back, pondering these complexities as he cautiously reached toward another nearby cluster of starlights. He halted his hand just before making contact—no pushback, no repulsion.
In subsequent attempts with different clusters, he found none that rejected his spiritual presence. Some constellations of light radiated the essence of life itself, while others subtly recoiled as if instinctively shrinking away from an impending force akin to the shadow of death.
Retreating to a space where no starlight could reach, Duncan looked down at his hands. Ethereal green flames swirled in the darkness, casting otherworldly shadows through the gaps between his fingers.
He noticed that with each “spirit walk,” his control and perception of these enigmatic flames became increasingly refined. Astonishingly, he could now sense signs of life within those distant clusters of starlight.
With a furrowed brow, Duncan turned his gaze to the sprawling darkness before him. Countless pinpricks of light dotted the vast expanse, creating a chaotic yet awe-inspiring tableau.
Though he had always exercised caution, observing the scale of these twinkling lights led him to contemplate their staggering multitude. It was a vast, intricate web, and he realized he was merely skimming the surface of a grander, more complex cosmos.
Initially, Duncan believed the starlights in this ethereal realm represented bodies of the recently deceased meeting specific conditions. This notion stemmed from his initial experiences of spiritually attaching to corpses. However, the vitality he now sensed from some celestial points challenged this hypothesis.
Clearly, these starlights weren’t limited to the deceased; they encompassed living beings. His initial experiences with possessing corpses had been circumstantial rather than indicative of a universal rule.
Vanna, the inquisitor identified among the starlights, was a case in point—unquestionably alive.
Could it be possible, then, that these innumerable starlights represented every living and deceased being in this world?
This idea unfolded naturally in his mind, gaining plausibility. But Duncan shook his head, banishing the thought almost as quickly as it surfaced. It was too soon to draw such sweeping conclusions.
While many starlights populated this otherworldly space, and the world he inhabited had a smaller population than Earth, he doubted the visible celestial points could account for every living and deceased being globally. Complications arose—how could one quantify the deceased? Would the count include everyone who had ever died or just those whose bodies remained? Would even fragments of a body suffice, or must the time since death be within a certain threshold?
Anomalies like the diffuse light representing the “White Oak”—a ship manifesting its celestial representation—posed further questions.
Thus, it was premature to definitively label these starlights as a comprehensive catalog of the world’s living and deceased until he had sufficient evidence.
However, one point was clear: almost all starlights showed no signs of repulsion toward him. The exception was the starlight associated with Vanna, exhibiting a self-protective aura.
This peculiar resistance piqued Duncan’s curiosity about the nature and extent of “faith-based power” in this world. Regardless of how potent Vanna’s faith-established barrier might be, it hadn’t obstructed a deeper, hidden connection between her and Duncan.
This left Duncan with a lingering question: When and under what circumstances was this mysterious connection forged?
Engrossed in the enveloping darkness, Duncan deeply contemplated the enigmatic connection with Vanna—an inquisitor he had never physically encountered. His mind cycled through theories and scenarios, dismissing them one by one, until a daring thought flashed.
Could the link be connected to the first body he possessed during the Solar Sacrifice ceremony in Pland?
Duncan’s memory retraced his steps to his initial arrival in this foreign land. He vividly recalled intervening in the elaborate Solar Sacrifice ritual, taking control of a body meant to be offered. After disrupting the ceremony, he abandoned that vessel, moving his essence elsewhere. Not long after, Vanna spearheaded an operation to raid the cultists responsible for the ritual, likely overseeing the chaotic scene’s cleanup.
If a moment could serve as a converging point for their existences, the incident at the solar sacrifice would be most plausible.
It was a simple, abandoned body—a mere geographical location both had been at different times.
“Could this be the source of the connection?” Duncan mused, increasingly convinced. His eyes widened, and he stared at his hands as if expecting them to offer answers. His look of surprise morphed into a wry smile tinged with disbelief. “What an absurdly convoluted way to become connected across time and space.”
The sheer peculiarity struck him profoundly. How could such fleeting possession and temporal overlap at a single location birth such an unusual spiritual tether? The notion was confounding and intriguing, leaving him puzzled yet accepting. It was as if the universe had presented a riddle, beckoning him to untangle its complexities.
Maybe the pocket watch represents a collective consciousness that is deemed weaker than the user when they came in contact with it. The pocket watch would activate it’s effect marking them as it’s property. The dove on the other hand was some amalgamation of his Zhou Ming Ego’s creating a sense of superiority to the Duncan’s Persona of his
The compass? I think its probably a simple anomaly (created as part of the Vanished’s transition to a spiritual entity/vision, thus without its own ranking). Its concept remained as “guidance for the captain”, but now it guides his spirit walks.
I think that might be Heidi’s starlight since she now has the pendant that he gave to Morris her father.