Chapter 78: Changing Shifts and Reporting

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Duncan found himself deeply pondering, yet he felt lost. He desperately wanted to locate another living member of the Sun Cult to validate his theory but had no clue where to begin. “Everything is linked to destiny,” he mused, standing up with measured pace.

In the basement, the dim, eerie green lights of the ghostly fire lamps flickered mysteriously, unaffected by any breeze in the sealed environment. The dancing flames cast wavering light and dark patches around, and Duncan’s thoughts ventured further. He wondered if devout believers who revered gods and received their blessings might be perceived as “enchanted beings” by the spectral flames. If that were the case, how would the flames treat an average person? If the ghostly fire touched a regular individual, would it manifest more than just illuminating effects? And if not, how much devotion to a deity was necessary to be identified as a “mystical entity” by this fire? Would the flame treat someone who worshipped a false god the same as someone who believed in a true deity?

Lost in his thoughts, Duncan observed the ethereal fire illuminating the room, a soft smile forming on his lips. “They’re all people,” he whispered, abruptly halting his contemplative journey, choosing not to delve deeper into that path. He recognized the fire as an immense power. While the flame itself was neutral, those with weaker resolve might easily fall prey to its allure. Since Duncan realized the extent of his unparalleled abilities, he often reminded himself of one thing: irrespective of his fame as “Captain Duncan” or the might of the spectral fire, he must always respect the inherent human essence within everyone. He should never belittle or objectify others in his pursuit to comprehend his gift—even in this foreign realm, where the concept of “human” might not precisely align with what he once knew.

Engaging foes in combat was acceptable; however, exploiting the vulnerable out of sheer curiosity was a different matter entirely. He released a soft sigh, gazing at the faint green flame dancing on his palm, then motioned for it to vanish. It obeyed him instantly, fading into nothingness. Duncan grinned, this reaffirmed his dominance over the flame.

Once the ethereal fire ceased to exist, the basement ambiance reverted to its former state. The green lamps regained their radiant intensity, and Duncan’s eyes scanned the disarrayed surroundings. The mysterious girl named Shirley had mysteriously disappeared, presumably through some magical method he couldn’t fathom. His ignorance in this domain meant he had no idea how to track her down—a true shame. He yearned to ask more, but it appeared their conversation had prematurely concluded.

Nevertheless, an intuition told Duncan he might cross paths with Shirley again. This wasn’t a mere wild guess. Given the intensifying activities of the Sun Cult in Pland, secret meetings were becoming commonplace. Keeping in mind Shirley and “Dog’s” typical approach, it was inevitable they’d create a commotion at some point. Duncan had a sun amulet—a peculiar artifact that granted him the ability to detect the movements and operations of the Sun Cult within the city. Although the detection radius of the amulet was currently limited, Duncan surmised that by simply wandering through the city whenever he could spare the time, he might chance upon intriguing occurrences linked to the cult.

Observing the disorder surrounding him, Duncan felt no obligation to tidy up. However, he did reach down to retrieve the ornate golden mask that lay amongst the remnants of the sun priest. Gently brushing away the ash and grime, he admired its intricate design. This mask was a trophy of his conquest, meant to be closely examined later aboard his ship, the Vanished. The unfortunate priest had been consumed entirely by the flames, and any mystical artifacts he possessed had been reduced to ash. The only tangible piece left of his existence in this realm was the sun mask.

Examining the mask’s weight and size, Duncan pondered, “A small amulet can be concealed easily, but this mask is considerably more conspicuous…” He continued to speculate, “If I run into experts from the Storm Church, they might detect its presence through specific methods…” Taking the mask back to the antique store without attracting attention would be quite a challenge. And if he managed to bring it there, there was a good chance that Nina might stumble upon it, leading to unnecessary complications. His most prudent option was to transport it somewhere undoubtedly secure.

While pondering his next move, Duncan’s gaze settled on the dove perched on his shoulder. An idea began to form—could this particular dove transport items to the Vanished when journeying solo in the spirit realm? The dove tilted its head, locking eyes with Duncan, and chirped, “Big hammer for eighty, small hammer for forty!”

Chuckling at the dove’s quirky comment, Duncan replied, “Think of it as additional work. I promise to fetch you some treats aboard the ship. Now, can you ferry this mask to the Vanished on your own?” With a swift flap of its wings, the dove responded with a high-pitched feminine voice, “I was planning on declining, but your offer is just too tempting!”

A bright light flashed in a fleeting instant as the words still echoed in the air. Both the dove and the mask vanished. Concurrently, Duncan felt a distinct awareness of Ai’s presence materializing in the captain’s cabin aboard the Vanished. The transmission had been completed in the blink of an eye!

“Such speed from this dove! It can transport objects this rapidly?” Duncan’s astonishment was short-lived as a skeletal figure abruptly materialized before him. The skeletal entity transformed, revealing itself as the dove. With a sense of pride, it announced, “Transmission accomplished!” Observing the dove’s appearance upon its emergence, Duncan felt reassured. It made logical sense to him that the skeletal form of the dove would be more agile than its counterpart, Ai.

Taking a moment, Duncan brushed down his clothes meticulously, ensuring they bore no questionable marks of blood or any other evidence. He had been cautious since his entrance, avoiding touching anything unnecessarily, wary of leaving behind any discernible traces like fingerprints. Shielding his fingers with his shirt, he unlatched the iron door and retraced his steps up the staircase, leading him out of the confines.

Above him, the sun, circumscribed by dual rings of runes, made its gradual descent towards the horizon. The splendor of the setting sun illuminated the haphazard rooftops of the city’s lower section. In this breathtaking backdrop, a faint crack at the zenith of the sky was just discernible. The changing hues of the sky reminded Duncan that he couldn’t prolong his activities in the city. Nina would be returning from school shortly. The young girl had only recently grown accustomed to addressing him as “Uncle Duncan,” and he didn’t want to worry her by being absent for an extended period.

Quickly departing the derelict factory, Duncan directed himself toward the main road he recalled. Navigating through a labyrinth of serpentine alleys, he passed areas where sewage systems formed a mesh of pipes, spewing wastewater and a melange of peculiar odors. The faint drone of vehicular movement started becoming perceptible. With the cloak of darkness yet to envelop the city entirely, he remained hopeful of catching the last scheduled bus.

But, mid-stride, Duncan abruptly halted. A short distance ahead, he noticed a group of four distinctively dressed individuals at the intersection. Two sported the unmistakable dark blue sheriff uniforms, their shoulders adorned with badges and their waists equipped with batons and sidearms. In stark contrast, the remaining two were cloaked in black garments that blended elements of classic trench coats with ceremonial garb, hinting at religious associations. These figures were not just armed with revolvers but also wielded gleaming longswords—an unusual sight in these times.

Additionally, the duo in black had a peculiar accessory fastened to their belts: lanterns inscribed with runes, undoubtedly used during nocturnal patrols. It appeared as though the quartet at the junction was in the midst of a shift change. The realization dawned on Duncan: They represented the city’s civic law enforcement and the guardians under the aegis of the Storm Church. While the sheriffs were entrusted with the city’s daytime order, the guardians took on the mantle of protectors during the night. With dusk approaching and the boundary between day and night becoming increasingly blurred, it was time for the city’s temporal authority and its religious arm to swap roles.

Such events, he mused, were distinctive facets of this world’s “landscape.” The quartet seemed oblivious to Duncan’s presence. Mustering confidence, Duncan advanced towards them. While he had momentarily faltered, he soon recognized that he had no cause for concern. After all, a law-abiding individual taking a stroll before nightfall isn’t engaging in wrongdoing.

It was only when Duncan was relatively close that one of the guardians affiliated with the church discerned his approach. The lanky young man looked up, and upon identifying Duncan, promptly raised a hand in a cautionary gesture. In a voice imbued with concern, he declared, “Sir! The darkness is drawing near; you should head home without delay. The streets can be treacherous at this hour.”

“Esteemed officers!” Duncan responded, accelerating his pace and approaching them earnestly. “I wish to report to you an incident. I recently heard a significant commotion emanating from that forsaken factory yonder. Additionally, I’ve observed several dubious characters frequenting the premises…” He paused to gather his thoughts and then added, “Recently, an article in the local paper emphasized the importance of residents reporting any unusual congregations or disturbances they come across in their vicinity…”

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