Chapter 96: “Peering”

This Translation is hosted on bcatranslation.com

In the captain’s cozy, well-organized quarters aboard the Vanished, Duncan gently awoke from meditation, his arms folded neatly across his torso. He took a moment to reorient himself, surveying his surroundings with the ease of a seasoned captain. Finding no discomfort or ailments, he exhaled a subdued sigh of relief.

Refocusing on the ghostly vessel, Duncan also maintained control over his physical self left behind in the city-state of Pland. This secondary Duncan awkwardly navigated the aisles of his antique store, methodically tidying up the ground floor, dusting off antiques, and realigning artifacts before hanging a “Closed” sign on the shop’s front door.

Returning his full attention to the ship, Duncan rose from his chair, stretching his arms and legs. His eyes were drawn to his desk, where his pet dove casually walked along the edge. Beside the bird lay a mysterious sun mask, its golden exterior shimmering almost otherworldly as the setting sun’s last rays pierced the window. The mask seemed alive, its intricate patterns glowing as if charged with ethereal energy.

Back in Pland, the secondary Duncan paused after hanging the “Closed” sign to converse with a neighbor returning home. They exchanged pleasantries about the day’s weather and economic environment. Though Duncan’s expression was a bit rigid and his speech less fluid, the neighbor didn’t think much of it. They remembered Duncan as a man who had battled gambling addiction and alcoholism, making his current respectable life a surprising transformation. A touch of awkwardness seemed trivial in comparison.

A soft smile curved Duncan’s lips aboard the Vanished, content that he had managed the social interaction in Pland remotely without arousing suspicion. He turned his attention back to the sun mask on his desk.

Nighttime was the most convenient for Duncan’s original self to be active aboard the Vanished due to Pland’s stringent curfew laws. Duncan planned to use this isolation to closely study the mysterious sun mask, a recent acquisition from a Suntist priest.

The mask, cool and heavy, suggested it was made of a substantial material, possibly pure gold. Holding it triggered a flurry of thoughts. His pragmatic side considered melting the mask down for profit, though he had managed to stave off immediate financial woes in Pland. Additional resources were always beneficial in the complex machinery of human society.

Contemplating further, Duncan thought about potential gains from the Suntist community—information could be mined, bounties claimed by reporting them, and magical artifacts secured for personal objectives. Items lacking immediate usefulness could be repurposed for monetary gain. Duncan knew resources—monetary, informational, or mystical—were tools for survival in an unpredictable world.

Caught in deep thought, Duncan stroked his chin, musing, “These Suntists are veritable gold mines from head to toe.”

His pet dove Ai, until then aimlessly wandering the table, abruptly stopped and tilted her head toward Duncan. In a sharp, feminine voice, she blurted, “Have some compassion, have some compassion!”

“Irrelevant input from a bird,” Duncan retorted, glancing at Ai dismissively. “You’re not qualified to pass judgment on me.” He readied his fingertips to summon ethereal flames, intending to purify the sun mask from the inside out, clearing it of any lingering energies before conducting serious tests or studies on it.

Eerie green flames flickered at his fingertips. Just as he was about to channel this magical energy into the mask, a soft, almost inaudible whisper seemed to emanate from his core: “…This could potentially connect them to the Vanished…”

Startled, Duncan froze.

He looked toward Ai and queried, “Did you hear any voices just now?”

The dove flapped its wings and broke into a discordant melody: “Listen~ to the cries of the sea~ lamenting over another broken heart~”

“Enough, enough, enough! I shouldn’t have asked,” Duncan snapped, annoyed. Talking to this bird felt like wrestling with quantum physics—neither communication nor interpretation was clear or exact. Shushing the dove, Duncan refocused his energies, attempting to recapture that elusive sensation, that mysterious ‘whisper’ that had momentarily seized his attention.

He was certain he hadn’t imagined it. The voice was young yet infused with a strange solemnity. Concurrently, he detected a nebulous ‘link,’ weaker than the psychic bond with his other body in Pland but undeniably real.

Choosing to put the golden mask aside, Duncan turned his attention to the green ethereal flames still flickering at his fingertips. He felt this fragile connection was somehow related to the elemental fire he had summoned.

Carefully, he closed his eyes, tuning into the ‘directional’ guidance from the flames. In the shroud of darkness that enveloped him, he perceived a faint glimmer of light before him.

The light resembled a ‘window,’ and behind it, indistinct figures moved. Duncan couldn’t make out details or hear sounds, yet he felt a sense of purpose from the flames guiding him.

Opening his eyes, he looked where the ethereal light had shone. To his surprise, he saw an ordinary mirror hanging beside the door of his quarters. It was a simple, oval mirror in a dark wooden frame—utterly mundane, devoid of supernatural attributes, like something in any typical home.

Yet, something told Duncan this mundane mirror could be more, especially given the mystical flames and the elusive ‘connection’ he had sensed.

Duncan sensed the ethereal flame he had conjured needed a medium to strengthen the delicate connection he had discovered. Recalling the vision and guidance he had sensed, he suspected the unassuming mirror might serve as that medium.

Mirrors have long symbolized insight and divination in various mystical traditions, considered reflective surfaces and extensions of cognitive capabilities, enabling vision into realms otherwise obscured.

Duncan approached the mirror, extending his hand so the flickering green flame touched the glass. Guided by some unseen law, the ethereal fire spread across the glass, swirling and cascading like liquid light. A channel of shimmering, green-tinged light appeared, coalescing into the same ‘window’ he had glimpsed earlier. Compelled by curiosity, he leaned in for a closer look.

In the luminous portal’s quivering play, Duncan saw a warmly lit interior. A tall woman, her back turned, read a document in the dying daylight, blissfully unaware of the spectral observer.

The woman, named Vanna, meticulously scanned the document. It was a formal announcement crafted by bishops from various city-states and ratified by the Pope at the Storm Cathedral, in a state of psychic resonance, shielded by the Storm Goddess to eliminate corruption risk.

The message’s urgent purpose was to alert sailors about a high-level anomalous object loose from civilization’s control.

Such warnings were serious. Anomalies don’t vanish on the open sea. The deep sea might devour, but anomalies remain exceptions, often becoming maritime specters, haunting routes and posing severe threats, like predatory wolves around sheep. Uncontrolled encounters often resulted in sailor deaths.

As stewards of this knowledge, the Storm Church broadcasted this information as a moral imperative, a sacred duty.

Normally, such announcements reached port authorities within 24 hours of an incident. However, “Anomaly 099” had a delay, implicating something called Vision 005, requiring extreme caution from the Pope and bishops to provide accurate information while avoiding scrutiny from Vision 005.

As Vanna reviewed the document, she ensured each word and sentence resonated with the sacred structure of prayer, aiming to avoid the notice of Vision 005’s captain.

Yet, hidden within a sliver of light and shadow on her window, Duncan eavesdropped on the document’s contents. Had the ghostly ship’s captain known, he would have been both shocked and intrigued.

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