Chapter 166: “The Captain’s Waiting In Your Sleep”

This translation is hosted on bcatranslation.com

During this time, Duncan devoted himself to meticulously documenting every piece of intelligence he had gathered. With great care, he mapped out and linked individual pieces of information, drawing lines between them based on their significance and relationships. Among these clues were memories of Nina and Shirley, particularly their recollections of the catastrophic fire. Their dream sequences also became part of this complex map, as these dreams had notably evolved and transformed over time in unique ways.

After carefully arranging all these clues, Duncan started writing a new line at the chart’s bottom. With a furrowed brow and a thoughtful expression, he paused for a moment. After careful consideration, he penned down three key statements:

In this world, everything can be “corrupted” or tainted, with the sole exception being subspace.

This world’s reality is unstable. Not just space, but time itself is unpredictable and unstable. Even what we believe or perceive as reality may not be as steadfast as we think.

Subspace’s influence has breached the confines of Pland! The ghostly figures that haunt the small church on Sixth Street testify to this. The sun fragment incident from eleven years ago might not be the central pivot of this entire sequence of events. Instead, the influence of subspace could be the dominant factor behind the current peculiarities in Pland.

Taking a step back, Duncan reviewed the three crucial points he had written down. These weren’t merely clues but foundational principles and deductions concerning the ongoing anomalies in Pland.

His eyes lingered on the first statement, a concise yet profound point influenced by something he had incidentally overheard during a visit to the city-state bank.

After a moment of reflection, Duncan picked up his pen again and drew a direct line from this initial point to another clue—the church on Sixth Street. Currently, this church is in a peculiar state of temporal lockdown. It was here that the corruption first manifested, resulting in skewed timelines and overlapping realities or “worldlines.” This disturbance was so extreme that it might have even impacted the storm goddess’s watchful eye over reality itself. But the burning question remained: How did this corruption start? And was the church the sole entity affected?

Remembering his parting words to Shirley, Duncan mused that the situation would undoubtedly escalate. However, relying on mere testimonials from everyday citizens wouldn’t be enough.

Vanished in his train of thought, a slight smile graced Duncan’s face. Shifting his gaze, he noticed a dove moving restlessly on the windowsill.

Suddenly, the dove halted and, with piercing intensity, looked directly at Duncan, declaring, “I sense hostility!”

Duncan, undistracted by the bird, simply snapped his fingers.

A sudden surge of ethereal green flames burst from the compass situated on Ai’s chest. As the compass flung open and its needle whirred rapidly, the fine line between reality and illusion became indistinct. Almost instantly, Duncan transitioned into the spirit realm, greeted by its customary dark and chaotic vastness, punctuated by an endless expanse of stars.

He took a deep, deliberate breath, letting it gently calm the tempest of emotions within him. Following a gentle nudge from his intuition, he found himself drawn towards a faint glimmer, a beacon amidst the gloom.

As he approached, he realized he didn’t need to make physical contact with the light to perceive its essence. The consciousness of the young inquisitor, the soul of Vanna, existed just beyond this luminous constellation.

Duncan noted how the link he felt with Vanna now was considerably more profound than when he first discovered her in this realm. Their recent interactions, particularly during her visit to the antique shop accompanied by Heidi, had fortified this bond. This newfound intensity in their connection was a tool he was eager to utilize.

His attention shifted when he spotted the spectral figure of Ai, hovering weightlessly. The bird spiraled whimsically as if combating ennui. Sensing Duncan’s gaze, Ai glided over, asking with a hint of mischief, “Preparing to summon the grand fleet, are we?”

“Recall our last venture when we tapped into Shirley’s consciousness?”

Ai mockingly tilted its head, replying with feigned innocence, “Shouldn’t there be an additional fee for such tasks?”

Duncan’s gaze was unyielding as he replied, “This will be more intricate. Vanna’s mental defenses are likely formidable, given her standing as a devoted saint. To add, delving into her psyche may alert the ever-watchful storm goddess.” He continued, pointing towards the radiant starlight, “But with our strengthened bond, if we merely establish a transient link without inflicting any harm, we should remain unscathed.”

His voice softened, “In essence, it’s merely a fervent plea from a captain seeking retribution.”

In the next heartbeat, his finger grazed the luminous cluster.

Suddenly, an ethereal sound of waves reached him from unfathomable distances, but it dissipated as abruptly as it had arisen. Almost immediately, Duncan perceived a melding of his consciousness with another.

…

Blinking in disarray, Vanna found herself clutching a hefty file. As she assessed her surroundings, she recognized her own room, with her seated by her vanity. The mirror showed a reflection of her, portraying hints of fatigue.

A transient wave of confusion washed over her, but she rapidly brushed it aside, recalling her prior engagement.

Her investigations had led her to delve into instances of heretical worship within Pland before 1889. Upon departing the archives, she had procured several pivotal documents from the venerable priest who presided there. These documents, which she hadn’t scrutinized in their entirety, now rested in her abode.

During their time in the archive chambers, the priest and she had stumbled upon a perplexing void in the records of 1885. Despite their combined efforts, the missing details eluded them. This anomaly, given her role as an inquisitor assigned to probe into heretical events, naturally captured her intrigue. It beckoned her deeper into the mystery and would inevitably form the cornerstone of her subsequent inquiries.

With meticulous precision, Vanna had charted her subsequent steps. She intended to assign specific priests well-versed in clerical work to comb through records stored in various city-state archives. Their objective: to retrieve the security logs of pertinent years from City Hall. Concurrently, she would establish specialized teams of guardians assigned to inspect and closely monitor locations notorious for heretical worship activities during that particular year. Moreover, she believed seeking Bishop Valentine’s counsel was essential. She hoped that through him, they might secure additional insights directly from the goddess.

Yet, before setting this plan into motion, Vanna needed to compile a comprehensive report on all instances of heretical worship that took place between 1886 and 1889.

Lifting her gaze from the file, she was captivated by the celestial sight outside her window. Suspended majestically in the night sky was the World’s Creation, showering a soft, ethereal glow over the entire city-state.

Her focus returned to the hefty document in her grasp, but she was abruptly struck by an alarming realization. She had only managed to get through half of it. The words began to merge into an indecipherable jumble, possibly a result of her extended reading session. However, she instantly sensed that something was amiss.

Promptly closing the file, her attention darted back to the window.

It was the late evening hour, the period when the World’s Creation unveiled its raw power in full magnitude. Engaging in reading during this critical juncture was a perilous venture. The trained archivists, who were seasoned in handling sensitive texts, would rigorously avoid reading during this hour. More critically, the document she had was not just any file, but a potentially volatile historical record directly from the archives!

No clergy member of her stature would commit such an oversight… This wasn’t real life; it was a constructed dream. And worse, her dream was evidently being manipulated!

As the realization of an intrusion into her dream dawned upon her, Vanna swiftly scanned her environment for signs of the trespasser. Her search bore fruit swiftly.

Reflected in her lavishly designed oval vanity mirror was an enigmatic silhouette. He was ensconced in shadows, with a dim green flame subtly illuminating his figure at the mirror’s periphery. This stern yet majestic figure was quietly studying Vanna. As their eyes locked, he proffered a restrained smile, initiating a greeting, “Good evening, Vanna. Though our paths haven’t crossed directly, I’ve been monitoring you for some duration. You might know me as…”

“Captain Duncan!” Vanna interjected, not allowing him to finish. Swiftly drawing upon her training, she sprang back, effortlessly sidestepping an obstructing stool. As her feet touched the ground, she summoned her signature giant sword seemingly from the void and lunged forth in a ferocious jump chop.

Duncan, caught off-guard, could only express his surprise with an exclamation: “…?!”

With a deafening crash, the vanity splintered. The force of her attack decimated the mirror, and Duncan’s illusory presence dispersed, fragmenting into shards of radiant light before Vanna’s fierce stance.

The delicate sound of glass skittering across the floor filled the room. Vanna’s posture was taut, her grip on her colossal sword unyielding. Her gaze darted around, mirroring the vigilant watchfulness of a predatory cat on high alert. In an undertone, she chanted a mantra, one she’d drilled into her subconscious during her countless hours of disciplined meditation. She was on the precipice of regaining her grasp on reality, yearning to wrench herself from this corrupted dreamscape and awaken to the conscious world.

But as she neared the brink of clarity, a profound and commanding voice enveloped her thoughts: “Your quick-witted response was unexpected.”

Startled, Vanna pivoted to pinpoint the origin of the voice, only to be confronted with a sprawling spectacle of shattered mirror fragments.

Each splinter mirrored ethereal flames. In the midst of each flame, Captain Duncan’s figure loomed, unmoving and entrenched in darkness. This enigmatic figure whispered in hushed tones as the elusive marauder of the Boundless Sea studied the tense Vanna with an air of weary acceptance.

“Ease your guard, young one. My intentions are to converse, not to clash,” his voice, magnified and echoing from the myriad reflections of Captain Duncan, sought to pierce Vanna’s fortified defenses, “This is about Pland…”

“Could the vulnerability lie in the mirrors…” Vanna contemplated aloud, mostly to herself.

Duncan quirked an eyebrow inquisitively, “Pardon?”

Without offering an explanation, Vanna deftly positioned the pointed end of her blade downward, then sharply struck the blade’s flank.

The resulting sonic boom filled the chamber as a targeted shockwave burst forth. The impact transformed every glass shard into fine dust, ensuring the elimination of all reflective entities in the vicinity.

A thick silence blanketed the room. Vanna took a deep breath, steadying herself.

There, unaffected and firmly grounded, stood Captain Duncan.

Regardless of how many times she blinked or shifted her focus, Captain Duncan’s image was omnipresent, his gaze unwaveringly fixed on hers.

“You were on the right track, albeit not entirely correct. It isn’t solely mirrors; any object possessing a reflective quality is my conduit,” the ghostly captain’s voice intruded her thoughts directly, “Presently, I inhabit the very reflection in your eyes.”

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