Chapter 174 “Before the Storm”
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The devout nun, who had been deeply engrossed in prayer in front of the statue depicting the goddess, had mysteriously vanished. Where she once knelt, an open space now sprawled in front of the raised platform. The room’s main hall, although not particularly vast, was lit up by the radiant light of a gas lamp, revealing empty rows of chairs. Vanna, along with the church guardians, thoroughly searched the space, but the elusive “nun” remained nowhere to be found.
Vanna always held a suspicion that this “nun” might have never truly existed in the physical realm. The real counterpart of this entity had met her demise years earlier in the underground chambers of the sanctuary. The presence that continued its devotions in the main hall seemed to be nothing more than a lingering phantom. But the abrupt vanishing of this specter had thrown a shroud of unease and bewilderment over everyone.
The final two guardians who had branched off to check the adjoining corridors and smaller rooms soon returned, their expressions confirming the worst: the “apparition” of the nun had undeniably faded away, leaving no trace within the confines of the church.
Vanna’s face tensed in thought.
When exactly had the phantom vanished?
Could it have been during her second venture into the underground sanctuary? Or perhaps when she stumbled upon the sequence of numbers, presumably penned by the genuine nun prior to her untimely death? Another possibility was the eerie green flame that had flared up seemingly from thin air, erasing any residual marks on the sanctuary’s floor.
If the phantom’s disappearance was linked to the first scenario, then it might signify that Vanna, as a real-world witness, had uncovered a hidden truth, thereby disrupting the illusion within the church. However, if it was the latter, it could hint at the intervention of the ghostly captain.
This ethereal captain seemed to have wiped away both the sanctuary’s evidence and the main hall’s phantom nun, though his motives remained shrouded in mystery.
Remaining in the church seemed futile now. Vanna felt an urgent need to relay all these revelations to Bishop Valentine. Additionally, a trip to the archives was imperative to validate an impending warning she sensed.
Without hesitation, Vanna, along with her crew, swiftly exited the church. Stepping through the church’s gateway and casting a glance back, the structure revealed its true form – a forsaken and crumbling edifice.
Relief washed over Vanna. At the very least, she had managed to guide her team safely away from that peculiar setting. As a peculiar sensation tugged at her heartstrings, she instinctively directed her gaze skyward towards the church’s pinnacle.
Perched atop the tall spire was a rotund, pristine white dove, which quizzically tilted its head, observing them below with an air of innocence.
“Why does that dove linger?”
A flicker of intrigue passed through Vanna’s heart, yet she swiftly cast aside this fleeting skepticism. Having organized her team to remain stationed around the modest church, she slid into a car and began her journey back to the central cathedral.
As if on cue, the dove spread its wings and took off, soaring rapidly away from the church.
However, the bird’s flight was brief. Eluding the vigilant eyes of the guardians encircling the church, it promptly descended into a nearby concealed alleyway.
An ethereal green flame emerged with vigor in the desolate passage, metamorphosing into a gateway and spiraling vortex. Emerging from these fiery tendrils, Duncan narrowed his eyes and gazed pensively back at the church.
Unveiling this enigma had been the right course of action. Drawing Vanna and the influential establishment she represented into this had proven beneficial — the inquiry was making headway. True experts always outshine novices, their depth of knowledge dwarfing that of amateur detectives like Shirley and Dog.
Employing a unique ability, Duncan could eavesdrop on the vicinity of a designated target via a “mark” he had implanted. Since he had amplified the mark on Vanna during her recent trip to the antiques store, this form of surveillance even enabled Duncan to discern subtle emotional shifts within the young inquisitor. He had, in the company of Ai, silently observed the guardians’ investigative proceedings within the church from his elevated vantage.
Deep in thought, ensconced within the alley’s shadows, Duncan sifted through the gleaned intel: It appeared the nun might have been confronting a reflection of her own “subspace projection”, given the absence of other intruders. Did clergy, once consumed by a deep-seated malevolence, evolve into a conduit bridging the subspace and tangible realm? Was this phenomenon exclusive to the clergy, or did all humans run this risk, with clergy being especially susceptible post-corruption?
Of all the revelations, this particular aspect commanded Duncan’s utmost attention, arousing both astonishment and bewilderment within him.
Duncan’s understanding of this world’s revered deities and their affiliated sanctuaries was admittedly limited. However, through keen observation over time, he had ascertained that these religious institutions were pillars of stability and guardianship. The clergy played a pivotal role in maintaining the city-state’s supernatural equilibrium and stood as a robust bulwark against the world’s profound decay.
But now, the revelation that this steadfast defense could, under specific circumstances, metamorphose into a nexus between reality and subspace posed a pressing question: why such a transformation?
And more ominously, if this alteration wasn’t restricted to the clergy, but all humans could potentially become portals to subspace, what implications did this hold for the world at large?
The concept of subspace, which instilled dread in many, appeared to be even more intricate than Duncan had initially surmised.
Among the myriad of revelations was a sequence of digits: “1885”, a clue left behind by the nun.
Such a detail had eluded both Duncan and Shirley during their prior exploration of the locale, and its discovery now jolted Duncan.
If Vanna’s deduction held merit, then the nun’s demise didn’t coincide with the sun fragment Incident of 1889 but occurred four years earlier, in 1885. This insinuated that for several subsequent years, the confines of this diminutive church might have been ensnared in a warped temporal and spatial maelstrom.
What could this portend?
Deep in contemplation, Duncan leisurely elevated his hand. Delicately rubbing his fingertips together, a cluster of spectral green flames spontaneously blazed before him.
He discerned, almost palpably, that the ethereal fire was permeating a concealed dimension, a dimension parallel to the Pland city-state, continually transmitting subtle resonances back to him.
This phenomenon posed yet another puzzle.
Soon after Vanna unearthed the sequence of digits within the subterranean chamber, the numbers inexplicably vanished. A brief flare-up of the spiritual flame accompanied this disappearance. Although Vanna might attribute this to the machinations of “Captain Duncan”, in reality, Duncan was equally, if not more, perplexed.
He hadn’t erased the digits. Duncan remained in the dark regarding why the flame, which he had previously released, would manifest unexpectedly within the sanctuary and specifically target the numeral “1885”. It evoked a sensation as though the flame’s trajectory wasn’t spatial, spanning the church’s expanse, but temporal, hurtling back to the year 1885.
Halting his thoughts abruptly, a realization dawned on Duncan.
Perhaps this wasn’t mere conjecture.
An earlier memory flitted through his mind: the time he had been delving into Alice’s peculiar wooden box. Recollections of witnessing the Frost Queen’s execution from half a century prior and the foreboding words he had then overheard surfaced.
“…Please, refrain from tainting history…”
With solemnity painting his visage and brows drawn together in deep thought, Duncan recalled a recent saying:
In this realm, every entity or thing, except for subspace, is susceptible to corruption.
…
Vanna, in haste, made her way back to the majestic cathedral. Her initial impulse was to delve directly into the archives to reconcile the alarming disparity she had sensed in her memories. However, she opted first to seek an audience with Bishop Valentin, recounting her investigative findings pertaining to the small church in the Sixth District.
After intently absorbing Vanna’s narrative, Valentin lapsed into a prolonged silence. Deep in thought, his brow creased with concern. Eventually, with an expression resembling one in pain, he muttered, “Subspace… indeed, it stands as the most vexing enigma amidst an array of perplexities…”
As they were getting ready to depart, Vanna recalled a peculiar incident at the small church. A sequence of numbers that had alluded to the year 1885 had mysteriously disappeared. Similarly, the nun who had been in deep prayer within the church’s main hall was nowhere to be seen. “It seems this might be connected to the influence of ‘Captain Duncan’,” she mentioned thoughtfully. “However, we chose not to stay and repeatedly test this anomaly within the church. We were afraid that doing so might allow whatever corruption was present to spread further.”
Bishop Valentin, with a somber nod of agreement, replied, “Exercising caution was the right choice. At this moment, we’re uncertain about this ghost captain’s true intentions. It appears he has given us some pivotal insights. Yet, he also seemed to have concealed or erased some vital clues from us. One thing is clear though; he isn’t on our side.”
There was a brief pause as Vanna weighed her words before addressing the elderly bishop, “Have you heard back from the Storm Ark? Did you inform the Pope about our situation here?”
Meeting Vanna’s gaze with sincerity, Bishop Valentin answered, “I’ve relayed everything that’s happened here to the Grand Storm Cathedral. Her Holiness, the Pope, has assured us that she will dispatch help immediately. However, given that the Storm Ark is situated quite far from Pland, even our swiftest vessels will take several days to get here. For now, we must be prepared to stand on our own.”
The aging bishop let out a soft sigh as he turned his attention to the statue of the Storm Goddess. “There’s a storm brewing, its origins unknown. Whether or not this beautiful gem of the sea can dispel the looming darkness hinges on our capability and resilience.”
Thanks for the chapter!
I’m surprised you can put these out so regularly with decent quality.
Thanks for the chap.
what happened with Frost Queen is so sad, she noticed someone trying to help her, but realised that it is history and told him not to pollute history, she forsook the possibility of saving her life for upholding the ideal.
Even facing death, the queen is honorable.