Chapter 386: Return to Reality?
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com
The majestic ship, the White Oak, floated serenely on the vast, shimmering sea. Its movements had ceased, and it seemed to rest peacefully amidst the gentle sway of the waters. Not far away, its sister ship, the ominously named Black Oak, was similarly still, shrouded in a thick, dense fog that created an eerie, ghostly silhouette. The Black Oak looked like the haunted ships of old seafarers’ tales, its shape a cryptic invitation mingled with a hidden threat.
Captain Lawrence, a mariner with countless voyages under his belt, gazed at the obscured vessel. His usually steady countenance showed a rare flicker of unease, an uncharacteristic hint of doubt.
“Should we send a team over for a closer look?” First Mate Gus suggested, breaking the silence. His words seemed to jolt Lawrence from his reverie, momentarily dispelling the looming uncertainty.
Lawrence turned to Gus, seeing a man who had been a reliable ally through numerous storms and dangers over the past twenty years. “You noticed it too, didn’t you?”
“Our last encounter with it was near Frost,” Gus recalled, his eyes distant as he stared at the undulating sea. His voice carried a blend of emotions as he continued, “We’ve known about your situation all these years, but no one dared to speak openly about it…”
Lawrence fell silent for a moment before speaking softly, “Do you remember, not long ago, when you saw a shadowy figure standing beside me on the deck?”
Gus, taken aback by the question, hesitated before replying, “That was…”
“Martha,” Lawrence interrupted, his voice just louder than the murmur of the sea. His words shocked Gus, whose eyes widened in astonishment. “The same ‘Martha’ that only I could see all these years. I’ve been seeing her more often lately, and I heard her voice near ‘Dagger Island’. I thought this region of the sea was amplifying my hallucinations. But now, it seems the reality might be more complicated.”
Gus slowly turned his gaze toward the fog-covered Black Oak. It stood in the midst of the fog, still as a graveyard. After what felt like an eternity, he finally spoke, “This isn’t an illusion. It’s real.”
Lawrence’s face hardened as he grappled with the gravity of the situation. After a few moments of thought, he gave an order, “Signal them, let’s see how they react.”
“Aye, Captain,” Gus responded promptly.
A pattern of lights on the side of the White Oak sprang to life. The crew manipulated the shutter in front of the ship’s searchlight, sending a series of bright flashes toward the cloaked “ghost ship.”
On the bridge of the White Oak, Captain Lawrence stood with unwavering resolve, his gaze fixed on the shrouded Black Oak. He was suspended in a state of anticipation, both eager and fearful of the response he sought.
“Martha… are you there?” Lawrence murmured to himself, his grip tightening on the handrail. His whispered words lingered in the air, a silent plea to either himself or a phantom from his past.
In the tense silence that followed, a solitary point of light appeared on the Black Oak’s foggy deck. It pierced through the thick veil of haze, holding steady for a few seconds before disappearing, only to reappear moments later. This pattern repeated three times, resembling a heartbeat in the darkness.
“Our signal has been acknowledged,” Gus announced, turning to Lawrence. His face showed a mix of relief, worry, and trepidation. “You may stay here, Captain. I’ll send a team to investigate.”
“No, I’ll go myself,” Lawrence overruled, dismissing the suggestion with a wave of his hand. His stern features softened with determination. “If this is a result of my deteriorating mental state, it could be dangerous for any crew member to board that ship. This is my burden to bear, and it’s my responsibility to resolve it.”
Gus seemed ready to protest, but seeing the resolve in Lawrence’s eyes, he swallowed his cautionary words. “Understood,” he agreed reluctantly.
“Help me get ready,” Lawrence instructed. “I’ll need a lantern, rope, weapons, and ammunition, and…”
His voice trailed off as he noticed a movement near a console.
An entity in an old sailor’s uniform was stealthily approaching a coil of rope, trying to remain unnoticed in the shadows cast by the console.
After a moment’s contemplation, Lawrence said, “I should bring it along. It’s too risky to leave an unpredictable anomaly aboard the White Oak. There’s something unusual about this one.”
Caught in the act, the entity, known as Anomaly 077, froze in place.
…
Meanwhile, in the icy city of Frost, near the fourth cemetery, guardians cloaked in black kept vigilant watch over a sewage treatment plant. Two soldiers were protecting a distressed manager slumped next to a pipe by the sedimentation tank. Despite his sickly complexion and uncontrollable shivering, he was determined to answer each question the guards asked.
“I assure you, I don’t understand this…” the manager, a balding man in his mid-life, said, wiping cold sweat from his forehead. His face showed terror and confusion. “Everything was normal here… I’ve known these people for over a day, and there wasn’t any strange behavior…”
“Stay calm. It’s not unusual to be deceived by paranormal entities,” the interrogating guardian said, trying to soothe the terrified man while glancing at the empty space next to the sedimentation tank. “Leave these anomalies to the gatekeeper. Miss Agatha should be back soon.”
The mention of the empty space drew the manager’s gaze, bringing back haunting memories: the horrifying transformation of the seemingly benign “church priests” into strangers, shadowy demons materializing, his coworkers turning into grotesque creatures, and the violent clash with the black-clad guardians.
He shivered at the memories, shutting his eyes tightly to block the dreadful images. But the darkness only intensified his fear, and he reluctantly reopened his eyes, still haunted by the traumatic events.
Seeing the manager’s state, a guardian could only offer a sympathetic look.
The manager had been caught in a nightmare within his familiar sewage treatment center, a stage for merciless cultists and monstrous doppelgangers disguised as his coworkers. It was a testament to his mental fortitude that he hadn’t gone mad amidst the shocking revelations.
The imposters likely replaced the center’s employees one by one, and the manager was probably the last real human. Had the guardians not intervened in time, he might have been their next victim. This realization deepened his fear.
In the aftermath, it seemed unlikely the manager could return to his role. He might need extensive psychological help to regain normalcy. But that was beyond the guardians’ immediate concern.
Their main worry was their superior’s well-being. Despite Gatekeeper Agatha’s abilities, the disappearance of three priests and a dozen doppelgangers was concerning. Her continued absence was troubling.
Even the manager, ensnared in his fear, noticed the tension. Observing the guardians’ alertness, he asked, “Is the gatekeeper alright?”
“Miss Agatha is in the spirit realm. She wanted to protect you and the plant from harm,” a female guardian explained. “No renegade entity can defy her there. The delay might be because she’s investigating.”
The manager nodded hesitantly, muttering, “Okay… okay…”
An icy wind blew across the plant. The guardians at the entry points instantly focused on the empty space by the sedimentation tank.
Their tense posture eased as they recognized what had happened. “Miss Agatha has resolved the issue.”
Ghostly apparitions began to materialize in the barren patch. A portal to another dimension flickered into existence, with dim silhouettes shimmering into being before descending to the ground. They solidified, transforming into tangible beings that landed with a thud.
The deceptive creatures and three priests, now reduced to sludge, hit the ground. The remains of the imposters rotted into stagnant residue, while the Annihilators’ bodies ignited in black flames, charring within seconds. The shadow demons evaporated before fully manifesting.
The manager gawked at the bizarre spectacle, his terror giving way to disbelief. His attention shifted to a gray whirlwind forming in the empty space. The whirlwind gave way to a figure within a heartbeat.
Emerging from the whirlwind, clad in a black coat and wielding a staff, was Agatha. Swaddled in bandages, she raised her head, scanning the familiar reality and the concerned faces of her subordinates.
“The problem is resolved,” she said softly, her voice as reassuring and steadfast as always.
Well damn. Rip her.
maybe clone agatha will be the one to join the vanished instead of the original
This whole Frost Arc has been : Are you real? Are they real? Am I real? and,
LAWRANCE TIME TO SHINEE
Remember Dog noticing the “aura” of the Netherlord on Agatha and the cultist saying the clone would think of itself as real, well, maybe they are both types of clones but one from the frostqueens Era and one created by the cultists
Possible kinda like Vanna lol
I’ve known these people for over a day, and there wasn’t any strange behavior…”
If this isn’t a typo, you’d think one of the Guardians would have pounced on the word ‘day’