Chapter 192: “The Promised Ark”
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation
The heart of the ship’s navigation chamber seemed to be frozen in time. The Boundless Sea’s eternal sunlight, an endless expanse of water with no visible horizon, streamed through the round portholes, casting a golden glow across the room. This light bathed everything in a warm hue, accentuating the historical relics and artifacts that adorned the chamber. These artifacts, aged over a century, shone even brighter under the sunlight, their antiquity adding to their brilliance.
In a corner of the navigation desk sat a unique artifact: a finely crafted black goat head sculpture. This was not merely a piece of art but a sentient object, essential for guiding the ship’s direction. Beside it lay an ancient nautical map, now shrouded in an enchanting mist. Through this ethereal fog, the shipping routes etched on the map seemed almost alive, bending and flowing towards a predetermined destination.
The map’s final destination was the city-state of Pland. Through the soft haze, the city’s signal gradually emerged, approaching the ship named “Vanished” so slowly that one could easily miss it without close attention.
Suddenly, the chamber door creaked open, casting a long shadow on the floor. Duncan, the ship’s captain, stood framed in the doorway.
As he entered, the Goathead sculpture sprang to life. The wood of its neck creaked as it swiveled to face Duncan. In a tone both respectful and playful, it greeted him, “Ah, Captain Duncan! Your humble servant is honored by your visit. How fare you today? It seems you’ve had quite the eventful day since we last spoke. And how do you find the weather on this fine…”
Duncan, familiar with the sculpture’s verbose nature, raised a hand to cut it short, “That’s enough. I don’t need the same elaborate greetings every day.” He cast a lingering, thoughtful look at the enigmatic goat head.
Its appearance remained unchanged, a fixed and expressionless visage, but its deep obsidian eyes exuded an unsettling aura, almost supernatural in quality. Despite this, Duncan never felt threatened by the creature. It seemed dedicated to serving him and ensuring the ship sailed smoothly.
With feigned concern, Goathead inquired, “My dear captain, you seem burdened with thoughts today. I noticed you had some unexpected guests on board earlier. But now, they seem to be missing?”
Duncan sighed and settled into his chair, “They were gone by dawn. They were Enders.”
Goathead, always eager to share its knowledge, began, “Ah, the Ender Missionaries… Quite the elusive lot. They’re notorious for their sudden appearances and just as swift disappearances, usually keeping to themselves. Not as overt as the Suntists or as aggressive as the Annihilators. How did you cross paths with such rare beings?”
Duncan leaned back, stretching his fingers thoughtfully. “They targeted a human I had under surveillance, so I detained them. It was more of an impulsive decision to see how Alice would react,” he admitted with a hint of nonchalance, all the while scrutinizing Goathead for any change in its demeanor. “During their capture, they babbled about something regarding ‘subspace.’ How well do you know these zealots?”
Goathead, its obsidian eyes unwavering, responded promptly, “I’d suggest not dwelling too much on their delusional beliefs.” It shifted slightly, emphasizing, “Even the mere mention of ‘subspace’ can draw unwanted and perilous attention. Engaging with those manically devoted to it is inviting trouble. While a formidable entity like you might be immune to their antics, indulging their ramblings could be more harmful than beneficial.”
Gathering its thoughts, it elaborated, “In all honesty, my understanding of these fanatics is rather basic. The world at large remains mostly in the dark about them. Of all the cults, the Enders stand out as particularly odd. Their ability to materialize and vanish without a trace, their disjointed way of thinking, and the lack of a vast base of everyday followers make them an enigma. They remain mostly isolated and don’t seem to engage with outsiders.”
Goathead then delved into a more detailed exposition. From its discourse, Duncan pieced together a clearer picture of the Enders.
Compared to well-known cult factions like the Sun-worshippers (Suntists) and the Annihilators, the Enders’ numbers were distinctly small. Reports suggested there might only be a few hundred to a thousand of them.
While other cult organizations typically have an extensive foundation of regular individuals who lead mundane lives aside from their altered beliefs, the Enders lacked this underpinning. Their most potent members often represented them.
The puzzling nature of their existence was evident: How could such a group sustain itself without grassroots support? Similarly, the inner workings of the Suntists and Annihilators, particularly how they ensnared everyday people, remained a mystery.
Furthermore, even with “Missionaries” in their name, the Enders seemed inept at propagating their beliefs. Their rationality was evidently compromised, with their speech and reasoning straying far from conventional thought. While they consistently professed alleged “truths” about ‘subspace’, no rational individual would be swayed by their arguments. Those weak of mind would find themselves ensnared by the allure of subspace, transforming into grotesque creatures before the Enders could even make their pitch.
This suggested a perplexing truth: the Enders seemed virtually incapable of bolstering their ranks through traditional indoctrination.
Adding to their mysterious nature was their evanescent quality, seeming more phantom than reality in their sudden appearances and equally abrupt exits.
Having encountered the mysterious nature of the Enders firsthand, Duncan was no stranger to their uncanny abilities.
Although Goathead had downplayed its awareness of the Enders, the depth and richness of the information it provided betrayed a more intricate understanding.
Duncan leaned back, eyes narrowing in thought. “Enders who are too erratic to propagate their beliefs… Where did the original members originate?” he pondered aloud.
Goathead, with a playful tilt, answered, “Who knows? Maybe they’re the children of subspace itself…”
Choosing to bypass the creature’s casual quip about subspace, Duncan kept an unconventional hypothesis to himself regarding the Enders. If a newcomer like him could conceive such an idea, surely the guardians and bishops, who had combatted heretical beliefs for ages in various human city-states, would have a more developed understanding of the Enders’ allegiance to subspace.
Goathead’s voice sliced through his contemplation. “You seem unusually engrossed in this Enders business, Captain. I can’t remember the last time I saw you this pensive.”
Lifting his gaze to meet the unwavering eyes of the sculpture, Duncan posed an unexpected question, “Tell me, if the history of a city-state has been altered, is there hope for its redemption?”
He posed the question with a detached air, as if broaching a theoretical conundrum.
Pausing briefly, Goathead deliberated. Its stoic facade betrayed no emotion. “Corrupted history? Sounds like the handiwork of subspace to me.”
“You believe only subspace has the power to rewrite history?” Duncan inquired, an eyebrow arching in curiosity.
Goathead replied, “What else, other than subspace, with its tumultuous melding of time and space, has the ability to tamper with a city-state’s lineage? This world holds no other force capable of such an act… well, except perhaps for that celestial entity in the heavens…”
As Goathead rambled on, a revelation dawned upon Duncan.
Subspace’s temporal and spatial properties are in turmoil?
It was the maiden piece of intel he had acquired that painted a vivid picture of subspace’s nature.
This newfound knowledge dovetailed with a recollection from a prophetic dream where the Frost Queen had implored, “I beseech thee, refrain from tainting history.”
Deep lines of concentration appeared on Duncan’s forehead as he sifted through the flood of information. Shaking off his contemplation, he refocused on the enigmatic goat head sculpture. Feeling the weight of Duncan’s undivided attention, the creature quickly silenced its rambling. Sensing the serious tone of their conversation, it ventured, “You seem particularly fixated on the Enders today. Might they have…”
“They may have initiated something… something that’s left me feeling disconcerted,” Duncan admitted, his voice heavy with unease.
For a brief, silent moment, they stared at one another — Duncan’s searching eyes locked onto the cold, emotionless gaze of Goathead. It was as if an invisible connection had been forged between them, allowing a silent understanding to pass without words.
Goathead then began, “City-states have always had their defenders — guardians appointed to protect their essence. Then there are the Flame Bearers, designated to safeguard the flow of history. Regardless of the Enders’ potentially chaotic tendencies, they shouldn’t pose a threat to someone like you. Even if they possess the capacity to distort history, they cannot tarnish you or the Vanished.”
Intrigued, Duncan pressed further, “You believe they’re powerless against me and the Vanished?”
“We emerged from the depths of subspace, Captain,” Goathead articulated with deliberate care. “While many aspects of this world are vulnerable to manipulation and alteration, subspace remains an exception. And we have been… intimately acquainted with its confines.”
Duncan’s expression turned contemplative once more. Echoes of the Enders’ manic speeches, which he had previously dismissed, now resounded in his thoughts.
Taking a deep breath, he whispered, almost to himself, “The Promised Ark…”
It’s interesting that the transmigration isn’t considered pollution
It’s just a guess, but probably it’s mostly about intention. After the original Duncan uncovered the secrets of the world enough to proclaim its doom, he seemed to be searching for something in subspace, something that can reverse the tide. The transmigration of a foreign soul from a world of order seems to be what he found. In which case, rather than being polluted, he let that soul in.
Duncan himself seems to still exist to some extent, even when possessed. Some of the stuff done on a subconscious level doesn’t seem to come from a mortal mind. Most significantly, it isn’t the protagonist that’s holding the door to subspace shut. The goat head asking his name is probably because invoking the name of Duncan Abnomar would be enough to wake up his remnant soul if he was in a light state of possession, so they wouldn’t dare as long as it still exists. The protagonist, however, has permission. After all, even though he didn’t inherit Duncan’s memories, the name alone was whispered to him from the beginning, like a key.
I actually suspect that the dude rebuilt himself out of subspace piece by piece while fighting to maintain his initial will all the while, which is pretty hardcore. His daughter turned herself into a doll? Pssh, her dad gathered pulled out his bones and replaced them with roughly fashioned driftwood from a sea of madness.
did you just spoil us that his daughter is a doll now or just another rambling?
Thanks for the chapter!
This chapter gives me the chill of some eerie forbidden truth and deeds done in the past but still ongoing
So this is just a guess… but what if Zhou didn’t transmigrate to begin with. He’s in the world he knows but at the same time it’s a different world from what he knows. Maybe the world was just a very big lie, a dream perhaps. Dreaming makes the world continue to function, but if the one who dreams woke up the thin bubble would pop into nothingness
Fyi: rabbles is incorrect, it’s rabble. It pulls double duty as a singular and a plural.
I keep wanting him to go look at his computer. There has to be a reason it still has power. Browse those files! Also, I’m not sure if he still has internet or not. I’d be going bugfuck without my coffee, cigarettes, books, computer, internet, and tv/video games. A world where the only books safe to read are a few religious texts… That’d be hell.
the more it goes on, the more I feel the Vanished is aware of the transmigation, as in it is its whole mission. this plan might be the only way to pierce the veil, to think about what is needed to be done without going insane. fighting is not hard, but how can they fight if they can’t judge what they are up against? being an outside to some extent has its benefits. it might be that goathead understand what MC is going through. his insistence in hearing the name isn’t a protective layer of routine, like in the churches. it is a pre-define inclination, like an echoing whisper, a path for MC acceptance and integration, a balance between knowing and not.
pretty sure it was confirmed when goathead said “Vanished what have you brought”