Chapter 36: “The Day and Night Cycle”
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The formidable task of converting a colossal fish into a palatable lunch aboard the Vanished was no ordinary culinary challenge; it required substantial physical exertion and resilience. Duncan, driven by his duties as a fisherman and his aspiration to enhance the quality of meals on his ship, tackled the day’s enormous catch with resolute determination.
Duncan spent hours in the ship’s galley, deftly removing the unsightly spines from the large fish’s head and carefully sectioning its robust body into smaller, manageable portions. The lean head of the fish was set aside temporarily, while he chose the plump belly and back, abundant with tender meat, for the meal preparation.
To the uninitiated, the sight of a ship captain single-handedly managing kitchen duties might seem peculiar. Yet, for Duncan, this was a labor of love. He mused over how those intimidated by the Vanished would react upon seeing him partake in such domestic chores. Would they be startled to discover the infamous ghost captain engaged in such mundane tasks, or would they instead admire his remarkable fishing prowess?
These thoughts amused him as he skillfully sliced through the exotic fish, contemplating the idea of one day hosting guests to dispel the ghostly legends that cloaked the Vanished. He longed to shed the image of a fearsome ghost captain. As his perspective on the world broadened, his goal was to assimilate more fully into modern society.
Anticipating future gatherings, he envisaged serving this very fish to his guests.
After completing the initial butchery, Duncan methodically packed the remaining fish portions into wooden barrels brimming with sea salt. He laboriously transported these heavy barrels to a storage area at the rear of the galley. The smaller pieces were set aside to be cured and dried on deck, under the salty sea breeze, intended to transform into salted fish.
Regrettably, the absence of strong alcohol on board deprived him of another traditional preservation method.
While Duncan relished the privilege of daily fresh fish, he recognized the inconsistency of fishing yields. Today’s bountiful catch was a boon, but he could not rely on future outings to be as fruitful. Thus, preserving surplus fish became a crucial consideration.
Even though the preserved meats and cheeses aboard the Vanished remained unspoiled, Duncan couldn’t pinpoint if this was due to some unique attribute of the ship or the nature of the provisions themselves. His determination to prevent any spoilage of the valuable fish was unwavering.
Introducing salted fish was not just about preservation but also about offering a welcome variety to the diet aboard, different from the century-old preserved meat they had been consuming.
Duncan reserved the most succulent and tender parts of the fish, incorporating them into a stew already brewing with preserved meats, creating an unconventional yet flavorful mix. A seasoned chef might argue that such prime cuts were better suited for sashimi, or at least should be lightly seared or grilled.
Aware of these culinary norms, Duncan intentionally chose a more cautious preparation method. His reluctance to consume raw meat from unidentifiable sea creatures guided his culinary choices. Although ocean fish are generally free from harmful parasites, and as a “ghost captain,” he might be immune to ordinary toxins, Duncan preferred to err on the side of caution.
Hence, Duncan embarked on this culinary experiment, unsure of the fish’s edibility but hopeful for success. If this dish proved successful, it would pave the way for more diverse culinary trials with future catches.
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As dusk approached, Duncan finally sat down to his delayed “lunch”—a steaming bowl of fish stew. The enticing aroma filled the galley, whetting his appetite, but he approached his meal with caution. He carefully lifted a piece of fish with his fork and offered it to Ai, the onboard dove.
Pigeons typically aren’t carnivorous, but Ai was an supernatural bird.
Fueled by curiosity, Duncan had experimented extensively aboard the Vanished, including offering this unusual dove some fish. If Ai showed any adverse effects from the meal, Duncan was prepared to act swiftly.
He meticulously prepared the fish, giving only a small piece to Ai as a test. If Ai exhibited any signs of distress, Duncan stood ready to invoke the green fire to transform the bird into its spirit form—a state in which Ai, governed by the mystical fire, was immune to normal toxins. If necessary, Duncan could also manipulate and relocate Ai’s spirit form.
Ai tilted its head, observing Duncan’s gesture. When it realized the offering was for it, Ai pecked at the table, looking between Duncan and the ceiling, and asked curiously, “Is this melon ripe?”
“Are you going to eat it or not?” Duncan replied, a touch of irritation in his voice.
Echoing Duncan’s tone, Ai flapped its wings and mimicked, “Are you going to eat it or not?”
Unexpectedly, Ai then bowed its head and started to nibble at the cooled fish. Duncan watched in surprise as the dove quickly devoured the entire serving—a highly unusual choice for such a bird.
After finishing its meal, Ai stretched its neck and strutted around the table triumphantly. It seemed invigorated, eventually returning to Duncan and cooing loudly, “Delicious! Delicious!” clearly pleased with its meal.
Duncan observed in wonderment. A realization struck him: Ai seemed to personify the unique attributes of “dove, delicious, echo” in its unusual behavior. Its endearing quirks made it appear more like a sentient being from a whimsical alternate universe rather than just a bird.
After closely monitoring Ai for a while and observing no adverse reactions to the fish, Duncan finally allowed himself a sigh of relief.
The remainder of their time in the galley passed joyously as the Captain of the Vanished and his supernatural pet indulged in a lavish feast of fish, which proved as delightful as Duncan had hoped.
……
As the day waned, the setting sun cast a soft, golden glow over the imposing architecture of the city-state of Pland. The intricate network of tall chimneys, elaborate piping, and towering structures caught the fading light, creating a dramatic visual spectacle.
At the heart of the city, atop a hill, stood the majestic Storm Cathedral. From its high bell tower, the deep, sonorous tolling of the bell melded with the high-pitched whistle of steam escaping through pressure valves. The steam formed a mystical cloud above the cathedral, which, under the glow of the setting sun, transformed into a captivating visual display.
This fusion of visual and auditory elements signaled the transition from day to night—marking the end of the sun’s reign and the onset of the night’s dominion, heralded by the World’s Creation fissuring across the night sky.
As daylight faded to twilight, the balance of the world began to shift. The influence of the world’s deeper layers grew stronger, a change that would persist until dawn, when the sunrise would dispel the remnants of the night.
With dusk settling in, the cautious retreated to the safety of their homes, while the bold ventured out only in well-lit areas. Gas lamps, blessed by the clergy, cast their protective glow, warding off malevolent spirits lurking in the shadows.
The citizens skillfully secured their homes, and the guardians of the Storm Church patrolled the streets after the city’s sheriffs had retired for the night.
Yet, even in the brightest light, shadows are cast, and there are always those who defy the established order—reckless souls who thrive in darkness and disorder, despite the vigilant eyes of the Storm Church’s protectors. These dissenters harbor a deep disdain and fear for the established order, longing for a “golden era” they have never witnessed themselves.
Fortunately, in the city-state where social order is highly valued, these disruptive forces were largely contained, forced to hide in the shadows.
On the city’s outskirts, in the depths of an abandoned sewer entrance that had once served as a temporary rest spot for the city’s maintenance crew but was forgotten after changes in city planning, a group of cloaked figures now convened in secret. This neglected spot had become a sanctuary for heretics. An oil lamp hung precariously on the wall, casting a flickering, dim light on a group of somber faces marked by fear and bitterness.
Among them, a man in his thirties lay on a makeshift bed of tattered clothes, his teeth clenched in pain, his skin pale, and his breathing uneven and labored. Nearby, one of his comrades hissed with bitterness, “Those damned church hounds…”
“We have suffered the loss of so many of our brothers and sisters. Even the emissary has perished during the ritual,” another voice added in a hoarse whisper, “How could our sacred ritual have gone so terribly wrong…”
“It must have been the offering… That offering acted as a catalyst… He was surely a pawn of the heretics…”
“Quiet,” a shrouded figure interjected, demanding silence and pointing upwards, “Listen, that’s the sound of the curfew bell and the steam whistle.”
“…Night is falling,” the first speaker muttered, glancing worriedly at their visibly sick comrade lying on the ground, “Damn it… I hope he can endure the severity of the night…”
This planet is earth, but in future right?
Yeah I think so
The tentacle/fish thing seems pretty random and ambiguous atm. My man butchered and ate it, so it probably exists in the physical manner he is describing it (having a head, neck, fins, bones, hollow white eyes, and the overall appearance to make MC assume it is a fish, albeit an ugly one). Alice saw “a multitude of eyes” which presumably means more than two, but MC didn’t appear to see that. Assuming the tentacle she saw were squid-like, it’s strange that it has bones…
Basically, I don’t quite get if they saw the same thing and MC misunderstood what he caught due to tunnelvisioning on the idea of “catching a fish” or if there is a reality-bending illusion being glossed over (for now?)
The tentacle became the fish that the MC saw once it was aboard the Vanished, since Alice only saw the tentacle change once it separated and landed on the ship. So I think that that once on the Vanished, the captains view becomes actual reality.
but a school of fish was mentioned before, as I remember and he should have caught one to four fish as the number of rods, or same-sized fishes if all of these are tentacles.
It makes most sense if the MC is resistant to illusion than other characters since he’s so powerful and able to explore forbidden areas and has several supernatural powers. Perhaps this fish has defensive illusion techniques that he naturally sees through but lower power characters like the doll cannot see through the illusion
“And when that day arrived, he would serve his guests a meal of fish.”
Lol