Chapter 507: The Popes of the Four Gods

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com

In the midst of a formidable tempest, most humans scatter in fear, overwhelmed by the thunderous roars that reverberate through the air. Yet, the thunder, inherently devoid of sentiment, remains unconcerned with the reactions it provokes. It merely announces its existence, much like the enigmatic presence known as the Vanished. The mere existence of the Vanished is enough to disrupt the tranquility of the vast Boundless Sea. In this context, it seems trivial to wonder whether Captain Duncan is troubled by the mortal church labeling him a heretic. This perspective overestimates the influence terrestrial entities have on the complex subspace shadow.

When viewed from another angle, the image of the Vanished, as perceived by the civilized world, is perhaps no more flattering than that of a “heretic.”

“I will discuss this matter with Helena, Banster, and Frem from the other churches,” Lune assured Morris. “There will inevitably be skepticism and panic within our central faction, but as a quartet, we should be able to reach a consensus swiftly. Regardless of the source, we must treat the warning with the seriousness it deserves.”

“I knew I could count on your logical approach,” Morris replied with a palpable sigh of relief. “You remain steadfast as ever.”

“However, you, Morris, have changed significantly over the years.”

With a deep sigh, Lune added, “When news of your fall into despair reached me, it was met with widespread lament. Your swift recovery took me by surprise. Even more surprising is your new affiliation with the Vanished. Over these millennia, only a handful of events have astonished me, and this is certainly one of them.”

“Life aboard the ship is quite agreeable, arguably even superior to life in the city-states. Despite the challenges of maritime existence, it is an exciting journey filled with daily discoveries and encounters with previously unheard-of phenomena.”

“Your enthusiasm resembles that of a proud seafarer,” Lune remarked. “I’m genuinely curious, what exactly do you do aboard that ship?”

Morris fell silent for a moment, memories flooding his mind: conducting classes for a shadow demon, a cursed puppet, and a demon summoner, traversing the spirit world at breakneck speed, dining on deep-sea offspring, reading by a fragment of the sun, observing it incinerate various escaped demons from the books. Each day brought new experiences.

“I’m involved in vigorous and fruitful academic research,” Morris replied earnestly.

“That sounds impressive,” Lune nodded approvingly, though he couldn’t resist a word of caution. “Remember, vigilance is key. While Captain Duncan may have reclaimed his humanity as you suggest, as a mortal, your life amidst the Vanished and daily interaction with a subspace shadow carries inherent perils. Be cautious when engaging with the unknown to avoid distortion of your mental faculties and cognition.”

“Your caution is appreciated, Teacher, but rest assured, I’ve been vigilant. Even during my perilous research at the academy, I ensured I was thoroughly prepared and never experienced mishaps.”

Lune, already settled back at his desk, fell silent at Morris’s words. The venerable elf elder couldn’t help but reflect on Morris’s time at the Academy of Truth, where his meticulous nature was so apparent.

Many cautious students attended the academy, but not everyone interpreted caution the same way. Some would hastily isolate and safely store hazardous books as soon as they spotted them, maintaining a safe distance. They considered this caution. Then there were those who, when confronted with forbidden knowledge, would first ingest a hefty dose of mixed magic potions, adorn themselves with an array of talismans, and prepare large-caliber handguns as their arsenal. They, too, termed this as caution!

The probability of the latter group succumbing to an untimely death was relatively high, but the survivors often achieved remarkable feats. The most accomplished and legendary scholars of the Academy of Truth often hailed from this group. Yet even among these legendary figures, none could boast of the audacious experience of traveling with the Vanished and engaging in casual discourse with a subspace demon deity.

After a prolonged silence, the elder elf behind the desk finally murmured softly, “Morris…”

“Teacher, you were about to say…”

“You are destined for greatness.”

“Your expectations are greatly appreciated.”

“No, what I mean to say is, if one day your actions should lead to an overwhelming crisis, do notify me ahead of time. If I’m able to assist, I certainly will. But, should my efforts be futile, I’d like an opportunity to make an escape.”

The link established through psychic communication was severed, and the resonating thoughts and perceptions receded like an ebbing tide. Lune’s eyes narrowed slightly, sensing the departure of his former pupil. He remained in this state until he was confident that Morris’s consciousness had safely retreated from the psychic channel, then he allowed himself to fully relax. Yet, a faint auditory imprint, akin to innumerable whispers, lingered in his mind, taking a substantial period to gradually dissipate.

Sensing the subtle impact of the lingering whispers on his cognition, Lune released a soft sigh. “A constant state of teetering on the precipice of madness while maintaining a lucid mind is a truly remarkable feat. Could this also be a manifestation of that ‘ship’s spirit’?”

Quietly pondering aloud, the elf elder, arguably among the most knowledgeable of mortals, shook his head. He then settled comfortably at his desk as if anticipating a visitor.

Lune’s wait was brief. The ambiguous sound of ocean waves started to echo in his mind, progressively coalescing into the unmistakable crash of clear, tumultuous waves. This was swiftly followed by the summoning call of storm and death. Amidst these ethereal calls, Lune exhaled a sigh, directing his gaze towards the alchemical container situated next to him on the desk. It was still in the throes of reaction. After confirming the adequate supply of reagents within the container, he stilled his mind. This study served as the sacred space for his psychic communication ritual.

Every single item within this room, from the modest yet imposing bookshelves, the vast array of books, to the alchemical equipment neatly arranged on the desk, played a critical role in the ritual. A shadowy presence filled the room, only to disperse like a dissipating fog. At the end of this deeply shrouded corridor, the figures of the three popes of storm, death, and flame materialized.

Lune navigated this spectral passage, arriving before his three old friends. Acknowledging their presence with a slight nod, he took the initiative and said, “It appears you have all received the news.”

“Banster and I each received messages from our respective saints,” confirmed Storm Pope Helena, gesturing towards the silent, towering figure opposite her.

“We’ve only just updated Frem on the situation,” she added, as Frem gave a slight nod of agreement. As the figurehead of the Flame Bearers, Frem served as the earthly representative for the eternal flame entity, “Ta Ruijin”. His striking appearance set him apart from the four popes. His towering stature, stone-like grey-white skin, and metallic patterns etched into his flesh, all indicated his distinct race. This robust, gold-skinned man, draped in a dark gold robe, was the embodiment of the Flame Bearer’s Pope. His short, gray-white hair, sharp features, and seemingly taciturn yet gravely serious demeanor were unmistakable. Frem had recently been patrolling the outskirts of the civilized world with his fleet of patrol vessels.

His appearances at the meetings of the four were rare; this was his first attendance in quite some time.

“I’m still trying to fully comprehend the situation,” Frem began, his voice resonating deeply like a stone’s rumble. “None of my saints have been brought aboard that ship.”

At his words, Helena, standing beside him, furrowed her brow in an odd manner, her voice dropping to a murmur, “Our saints were not forcibly taken to the ship either… They made contact with Captain Duncan, exhibited caution towards him, found common ground with the ship spirit, and ultimately chose to align with Captain Duncan.”

Frem turned his gaze toward Helena, his facial expression still as rigid as carved stone. “I maintain the stance that they were abducted.”

Helena: “…”

Death Pope Banster, who looked tall, frail, and aged, cleared his throat at this interaction and spoke, “You’ve known Frem for quite some time now, Helena. His candor is hardly a new trait.”

“Understood.” Helena remained silent for a moment before slowly nodding, “Today’s gathering isn’t about dissecting the details of the ‘saints being taken aboard the ship.’ Our focus should be on the warning issued by the Vanished.”

Lune raised his gaze, “Do you have any questions?”

“I do.” Helena immediately affirmed, her focus landing on Lune, “I am intrigued to know about these colossal organisms dwelling beneath the city-state. Based on the description provided, they bear a striking resemblance to the leviathan, the mythical beast that upholds the cathedral ark… Are these the same entities?”

“Every cathedral ark, all four of them, were constructed under the auspices of the Academy of Truth, which also included the technology used to resurrect and control the leviathans,” Banster, too, turned his gaze onto Lune and began to speak.

“But you have remained silent on the origins of these leviathan remains, nor have you revealed any connections between these creatures and the infrastructure found at the bottom of the city-state… We have every reason to suspect that the Academy of Truth is withholding certain truths of paramount importance.”

Frem didn’t voice anything; he merely retained his stoic expression, silently fixing his gaze on Lune.

However, in the face of these three rather pressurizing glares, Lune merely spread his hands nonchalantly, “I’m afraid I have no insights on what exactly lies beneath the city-state.”

“You don’t know?” Helena’s eyes widened subtly, “The Academy of Truth resurrected four leviathans, and yet you claim ignorance on the leviathan at the base of the city-state?”

Lune countered calmly, “Gomona is the queen of the leviathans. As a devout follower of the Storm Goddess, shouldn’t you have more information than I do?”

Helena frowned, providing no answer, “You must have tried seeking answers from the leviathan carrying the Grand Storm Cathedral. If it couldn’t provide you with answers, that’s probably because even they aren’t aware of the specifics of their own kind.”

Lune sighed, gently shaking his head, “The history of our world is fragmented. Even beings from ancient times cannot clearly recollect the events predating the Great Annihilation. Did you know, Captain Duncan even came up with a name for this phenomenon? He has termed it ‘Limited Field of Vision’ in the timeline.”

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