Chapter 343: Return Home

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com

In the bustling management area of Frost’s eastern military port, the night was filled with relentless activity. Alarm bells had been tolling for more than a day and night since the last contact with the Seagull, a naval vessel. The tension was palpable, heightened by the psychic personnel’s unsuccessful attempts at the port’s chapel to connect with the ship’s spiritual advisor, which only fueled the growing dread.

The fragments of information available painted a grim picture, each detail suggesting dire circumstances. Amid this chaos, the typically bustling harbor office was now shrouded in heavy silence.

A middle-aged man, a Frost Navy Commander, with a receding hairline, sat behind his desk, his expression stern. Though the room wasn’t particularly large, it was filled with several high-ranking officials. The air was thick with anxiety, reflecting the anticipation of an impending storm.

“There’s still no sign of the Seagull,” announced a civilian officer, his light brown hair subtly shaking as he shook his head. “We’ve conducted thorough searches from the Seagull’s last known location toward Frost, repeating them thrice. Nothing has surfaced from the ocean depths.”

“Our most optimistic scenario is a communication system failure on the Seagull, possibly coupled with an accident involving the ship’s priest, leading the vessel to veer off course and out of control,” sighed another officer. “But, realistically, that’s a highly optimistic assumption. A vessel of the Seagull’s size couldn’t have drifted beyond our search parameters in such a short time. A more plausible explanation is a catastrophic event causing the Seagull to sink… A nearby patrol vessel reported faint explosion sounds and distant flashes of light piercing the dark sky. It’s conceivable that was the Seagull.”

“But wouldn’t a vessel that size take hours to sink? We deployed search teams immediately after the Seagull lost communication,” countered the light-haired civilian officer, a frown creasing his forehead. “There would be significant oil spillage contaminating the sea’s surface; how could all traces disappear so abruptly? Could the entire ship have plummeted to the ocean floor in an instant?”

“A search party should be sent to Dagger Island to investigate,” suggested a female officer. “Perhaps the Seagull did not head towards Frost as planned and was delayed near Dagger Island due to unforeseen circumstances…”

“Dagger Island is in a sensitive state. Any attempt to send personnel there requires a complicated set of procedures…”

“We could simply establish communication; that’s a relatively easier process. We could hear from the governor’s office within thirty minutes at the earliest…”

The conversation continued with various theories and plans until a solemn voice from behind the desk halted all chatter: “Contingency 22.”

All discussions ceased abruptly, and the room fell silent. The officers turned their attention to the middle-aged man behind the desk, his thinning hair and serious demeanor reflecting the gravity of the situation.

“It’s possible that Contingency 22 has been triggered – the situation may have become too critical, or there may be a risk of hazardous ‘meme’ leakage, or worse, the Seagull might be under a third party’s control, hence the radio silence,” began harbor defense commander Lister, his tone subdued yet firm. “However, this still doesn’t explain the Seagull’s wreckage’s mysterious disappearance.”

The officers exchanged uneasy glances. The mere mention of “Contingency 22” sent an additional wave of dread through the room, deepening the already oppressive atmosphere.

After a brief pause to let his words sink in, Commander Lister continued, “I know General Duncan. If the Seagull encountered an insurmountable instance of supernatural contamination, he would undoubtedly initiate Contingency 22 without hesitation. Therefore, our next steps must include continuing the search for any remaining traces of the Seagull and uncovering the cause of the ship’s assault and contamination. If there is indeed an attacker, it may not be physically discernible, which poses a significant threat to Frost.”

“An assailant…” The female officer who had spoken earlier let the word linger, her expression growing increasingly grave. “If such an attacker exists, do you think it wasn’t eradicated along with the Seagull’s ‘Contingency 22’ activation?”

“In dealing with supernatural calamities, one fundamental rule prevails: unless there is compelling direct evidence to the contrary, always assume the adversary persists,” Lister articulated thoughtfully. “Whether they be supernatural artifacts or phenomena, their ‘resilience’ is often alarmingly robust.”

The officers shared another round of apprehensive glances before one tentatively brought up a topic, “What about Dagger Island…”

“I plan to submit an investigative request to the governor. Even though the Seagull encountered the catastrophe on its return journey to the main island, the situation on Dagger Island remains questionable now, considering the ship’s unfortunate incident.” Lister slowly rose from his seat, bracing himself against the table with both hands. “Now, all of you…”

Lister’s directives were abruptly cut short by urgent footsteps echoing down the hallway, followed by a firm knock on the door.

A frown furrowed Lister’s brow, “Enter.”

A secretary stepped into the room, briskly saluting the officer behind the desk, “Sir, Gatekeeper Agatha has arrived.”

“The Gatekeeper?” Surprise was evident on Lister’s face. “What brings her here?”

“She mentioned it’s about the Seagull, sir, and insisted it was urgent.”

“Let her in…” Lister’s command was almost immediate, but even before his words could fully echo through the room, a gust of gray wind was already swirling through the hallway outside. The wind, infused with fine dust, swept into the room, encircling the office rapidly. Out of the ethereal gust emerged Agatha, tightly gripping a tin staff, a distinctive accessory of the clergies of the Death God. Through her bandages, her eyes radiated a tinge of regret.

“I apologize for the intrusion, Colonel Lister. It’s urgent, so I took the liberty of entering as soon as I heard your acknowledgment,” Agatha began, extending a polite nod. “I am here to inquire about the progress of your investigation regarding the Seagull’s whereabouts?”

Lister did not display any annoyance at Agatha’s sudden entry. A competent military man knows how to prioritize, and as the city-state’s “Gatekeeper,” Agatha had numerous emergency privileges. Her hasty arrival clearly indicated the urgency of the matter, overriding formal etiquette.

“As of now, we’ve yet to locate any traces or debris of the Seagull. Our current suspicion leans towards General Duncan having activated ‘Contingency 22,’ which might have caused the Seagull to sink,” he replied, his expression stern. “Our subsequent actions will involve expanding the search area, seeking any evidence of the attacker in the open sea, and preparing to investigate the situation on Dagger Island.”

“Your assumption regarding Contingency 22 is correct. The Seagull was indeed infiltrated and contaminated by supernatural entities. The ship served with honor, but I advise against any immediate investigation into Dagger Island,” Agatha responded quickly. “There’s a chance the island may have slipped entirely out of control.”

“Dagger Island has lost control?” Lister’s facial muscles tensed noticeably. “What evidence do you have to support this?”

“The source of the information is… inconvenient to disclose at this moment,” Agatha conceded with a hint of reluctance. “However, I can assure you of its reliability. I haven’t had the opportunity to inform the Silent Cathedral and City Hall, as any delay might prove costly. Colonel Lister, I urge you to initiate an immediate blockade of all sea routes surrounding Dagger Island, prohibiting vessels from approaching or departing, especially preventing them from reaching Frost.”

“Miss Agatha, I must remind you, this approach does not adhere to protocol,” Lister’s tone grew serious. “I am willing to trust your judgment as Frost’s Gatekeeper, but you must understand that every regulation is borne from the cost of human lives. Mobilizing the navy to blockade Dagger Island is no trivial task, and I require more precise orders and explanations.”

“Taking this action, at the very least, won’t worsen the situation,” Agatha stepped forward. “I have already dispatched a messenger to the Silent Cathedral; further orders should arrive shortly.”

Lister seemed poised to counter, but an abrupt, piercing ring from the corner of the room cut him off.

The defense commander shot a glance at Agatha, then quickly strode to a small table nearby, pressing a button on its surface.

Seconds later, the sound of air hissing and rapidly approaching clicks emanated from the fixed copper pipe mounted on the wall next to the table. The pipe shuddered with a sharp metallic clang, followed by a puff of white gas escaping from the fastening device at its end.

Lister unlatched the buckle, flipped open the cover, and retrieved the capsule chamber from within the pipe. He quickly scanned the message inside, and his facial expression turned notably grim.

“What does it say?” Agatha asked, curiosity evident in her tone.

“A ship has emerged in the offshore region and transmitted a signal seeking port entry,” Lister raised his head slowly, his expression grave. “It’s the Seagull.”

Silence fell over the room.

The officers exchanged uncertain looks, Agatha’s gaze hardened, and after a tense pause, Lister abruptly declared, “Let’s proceed to the dock.”

Following more than twenty-four hours of inexplicable disappearance, the Seagull had resurfaced and was heading directly toward the eastern military dock. The sudden appearance, irrespective of who it involved, naturally instigated suspicion.

From the lookout tower at the east port, the steamship’s silhouette began to take form, progressively expanding on the distant horizon, with columns of steam billowing above it, resembling misty clouds.

“The silhouette and the identification on the bow flag… confirm it’s the Seagull.”

A junior officer set down the telescope in his hand and confirmed, his voice carrying a mix of emotions.

Lister, however, stood still, his gaze fixated on the approaching silhouette at sea, remaining silent for a prolonged period.

The faint sound of a steam whistle echoed across the water, punctuated by a specific pause in its rhythm.

“Second round of signals, the Seagull is requesting permission to dock,” the junior officer turned to Lister for guidance. “Sir…”

“Sink it.” The words cut through the tense silence, a stark directive from Agatha, who had been silent until that moment.

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