Chapter 244

Chapter 244: A Corner of the Veil

Duncan walked up to the door and checked its state again, still not at ease.

The Subspace Gate really was closed now. He had indeed gone to the other side of the door before, and with that simple push over there, he had fully sealed this massive door that could hardly be shaken in the Mortal Realm.

He let out a soft breath and lifted his head to look above the door.

That line of mysterious, ancient script still stood out clearly on the frame: “This door leads to the Vanished.”

“Leads to the Vanished…” Duncan could not help recalling what lay beyond the door. He thought of that Vanished that sailed in Subspace, the ship that looked as if it had been abandoned and decaying for countless years. Suddenly he had a faint understanding of the words on the frame.

The words on this door were true. Beyond it really did lie the Vanished, another Vanished – the twisted projection, in Subspace, of the Vanished that existed in the Mortal Realm.

Duncan picked up the consecrated lantern, turned, and left the lower hold. Without stopping, he passed through the cargo hold and upper structures under the Inversion of light and shadow and returned to the captain’s cabin.

“Ah! Captain, you are back!” Goathead was still a bit dazed here. The first thing it did when it saw Duncan return was start nagging: “Why did you suddenly leave like that? Just now you said you went to Subspace? You cannot joke about that! You…”

“I closed the Subspace Gate in the bilge,” Duncan said casually as he put the consecrated lantern back in its place. “I just went down again to confirm it from this side.”

Goathead’s words stuck in its throat at once, and there was another sharp crack from where its head met the table.

Duncan could not help glancing at it: “Take it easy. Do not end up with the same problem as Alice.”

Goathead did not care about the teasing in the captain’s tone. It did not hide its shock at all: “You closed that door?! You mean… you closed it from the Subspace side?”

“What else?” Duncan asked back. “Isn’t that door impossible to close from this side? Why else would I go to all that trouble?”

“Y-you… just for that?” Goathead actually sounded a bit incoherent now. “You entered Subspace, then came back to the Mortal Realm, just so you could close that door from the other side? That… that is not some ordinary wooden door to a store room or junk closet, and you just… closed it like that?!”

Duncan’s mood suddenly improved.

He just stood there happily watching Goathead, watching this creature who usually nagged so much it could boil someone’s brain fall into a stammering mess. Goathead shook on the table like it had been put on vibrate, going crack, crack, crack the whole time. Duncan’s face stayed calm, but inside he was almost laughing himself sick.

Duncan knew he had not explained everything yet and that he had let Goathead misunderstand a few things. But mainly, he wanted to see this thing’s tongue get tied. This was the joy of the Boundless Sea’s number one troublemaker.

Along with that joy, the slight oppressive feeling brought on by exploring the ruined Vanished and that dark space also weakened a lot.

But in the end, Duncan still spoke up. After all, it was about Subspace. Some things had to be made clear to avoid risks later. And Goathead knew many hidden things; its knowledge might be useful.

“I know you are anxious, but don’t be. Let me finish first,” Duncan said. “I did close that door, but going into Subspace this time was an accident. I also need to hear what you think.”

“An… accident?” Goathead stiffened. Its tone shifted from shock to extreme seriousness in an instant. “Please, tell me. What exactly happened?”

Duncan told Goathead how he had fallen into a light sleep and, when he opened his eyes, had entered Subspace. Of course, he left out the details of his exploration in that pitch-black space, and focused on the door in the bilge and on the sights he saw when he looked out at the chaos from the deck.

After all, by now, other than his “true name” and “origin,” there was not much he needed to hide from Goathead anymore. And hiding his true name and origin was not so much because those secrets were especially important, but because the Vanished’s stability had to rest on this “anchor” called Captain Duncan.

Goathead listened to Duncan’s account in utter silence, taking it very seriously.

Then it said that it had no idea what was going on either…

“From what you described, that was indeed Subspace,” Goathead said frankly. “But I have never heard of something like this. You entered there directly in your sleep… and then came back safe and sound. You must understand, even though Subspace is a grave threat to the Mortal Realm, that does not mean it is an easy place to reach. Its danger lies more in its corruption that seeps in without warning.

“Cracks in the mind, shaken faith, a wrong sacrificial rite – any of these can let the power of Subspace infiltrate. But ‘infiltration’ and going in like you did to ‘explore’ are completely different ideas.”

Here it paused, then turned its head. Its hollow black eye sockets stared straight at Duncan.

“Captain, are you sure you were not affected over there? You really… do not feel like anything was left in your head?”

“No,” Duncan spread his hands, utterly calm. “Do I look like I am out of my mind? I feel completely normal.”

Goathead suddenly had nothing to say.

Duncan spoke in a thoughtful tone: “You are always worried that the Vanished will fall into Subspace again. I actually thought falling in was easy…”

“That… is a relative idea,” Goathead explained with some difficulty. “Falling downward from the Mortal Realm is very dangerous, but even the Vanished will not ‘fall’ so easily. ‘It is dangerous if you fall’ and ‘it is easy to fall’ are not the same thing. And… how should I say this… in most cases, the unfortunates who plunge into Subspace… the process and feeling of them entering Subspace are completely different from yours. It is an extremely painful and terrifying process, and it often does not end simply with death…”

Duncan thought for a while after hearing this, then shook his head: “I really did not feel anything like that…”

Goathead held back for a long time, then finally let out a sigh.

Duncan was even a bit shocked. For the first time ever, this chatterbox did not say anything and only sighed!

Duncan thought about it and asked, very seriously: “…Should I be acting more serious?”

Goathead said: “…You truly live up to your title as the moving calamity of the Boundless Sea…”

It was completely flat, with no emotion at all, like it was reciting a line from muscle memory.

“Then let us drop this topic,” Duncan said, waving his hand when he saw this, and he changed the subject at once. “What were those huge shadows I saw in Subspace? Those broken lands, the wreckage, and that pale one-eyed giant… what are they?”

Goathead suddenly fell silent. Almost half a minute passed before it slowly spoke: “As you saw… they are just wreckage.”

“Just wreckage?” Duncan frowned. “That is not an answer. Wreckage of what? Where did it come from? From when? All of that…”

“Wreckage of worlds,” Goathead said. “All those that did not live until today became twisted shadows in Subspace in the ancient past.”

Duncan froze for a moment, then repeated in a low voice: “Wreckage of worlds?”

Goathead went silent again. It seemed to be hesitating, weighing something. In the end, it lifted its head slightly.

“Do you think the Boundless Sea is vast?” it asked. “Do you think… the Mortal Realm we live in now is still wide?”

Duncan blinked, then suddenly reacted: “You are saying… everything in the Mortal Realm now…”

“Yes. It is what was left over after the fall,” Goathead said softly. “A little bit of insignificant scum, with a few stubborn colonies clinging to it.”

Duncan stared, then suddenly thought of something: “Is this the truth behind the Great Annihilation?”

“It is only one tiny part of it,” Goathead said, its voice low. “The full truth of the Great Annihilation has been buried in the long river of time. There is no point trying to piece its whole shape back together.

“In your words, there is a ‘Horizon Limit’ there. All information lies on an unknowable, unseeable shore. Only if there were some truly all-knowing, all-powerful great being that could instantly grasp all secrets from Subspace to Abyssal Deep Sea, then to the Spirit Realm and the Mortal Realm, and then roll them back ten thousand years, could it know what exactly happened during the Great Annihilation – but what would be the point even then?

“I know what else you want to ask, but sadly this is all I know, and I cannot promise all of it is true. I do know some things related to Subspace, but even so-called ‘truth’ may already have been twisted into something else after Subspace’s influence. Cause and effect and the order of time have no meaning there. As for my own broken knowledge… even I do not know how much is real memory and how much is just shadows left over from the process of leaving Subspace.”