Chapter 277

Chapter 277: A New Storm

Vanna and Valentine both stood there in a daze at this sudden turn of events. Pope Helena’s “judgment” felt less like a solemn religious ruling and more like something carried out just to reach a set result. The result had already been decided; what they had just said was only a formality.

Such a hasty “ruling” was, of course, hard for Vanna the Inquisitor to accept. Even Valentine at her side could not accept it. They spoke at the same time: “Your Eminence the Pope…”

“Enough, enough. It is not such a bad thing. Life is always full of rises and falls, just like storms are always the hardest to predict.” Helena waved her hand, cutting off Vanna and Valentine. “And do not sink into loss so easily, Saint Vanna. Laying down the duties of an Inquisitor is not necessarily a punishment. It only means you are, for now, not suited to this job. Perhaps… the storm has other favor in store for you.”

Vanna paused. She seemed to catch a faint hint of something in Helena’s tone. But just as she was about to ask, she saw the Pope shake her head at her.

“Let us stop here for now. There are other things I must see with my own eyes before I can decide,” Helena said calmly. “Pland… It has been many years since I last set foot on this land myself.”

She paused for a moment.

“You two go back to the upper deck first. The shaft lift is ready. I will complete a benediction here. It will not take long. We will meet on the upper deck.”

Before she even knew what was happening, Vanna found herself being “sent” back into the shaft lift together with Valentine. Only when the shaft lift reached the top, when they stepped out of the car and were walking along the corridor toward the upper deck, did Valentine finally break the silence in a low voice: “Vanna, how… do you feel now?”

He really could not think of any better way to break the awkward mood.

Vanna stopped walking.

Valentine stepped a little to the side.

“You stepped away two paces. Are you serious?”

“I am afraid you are serious.”

“You can still crack dry jokes, so it seems you have also noticed how strange this is.” Vanna shook her head and spoke softly. “To be honest, my first reaction was disbelief and refusal. Such a rushed and careless ‘ruling’ feels more like a bad joke, and not something that should come from the mouth of Her Eminence the Pope. But then I went back over her words in my mind, and I keep feeling… she had some deeper intent.”

As she spoke, she let out a light breath. “I think I should be patient and wait—for the ‘special favor of the storm’ that Her Eminence spoke of.”

“Your calm and reason really are far above most people. When something like this suddenly falls on their head, most people would not be able to think it through as quickly as you have,” Valentine said, stepping forward again as they walked. “But more than that, there is something else I care about right now.”

Vanna frowned a little. “Something else?”

“When an Inquisitor is removed, a new Inquisitor has to take over. A post as important as city-state Inquisitor must be personally ‘tested’ and appointed by the Pope. You know that process very well,” Valentine said slowly. “But Her Eminence the Pope did not mention this at all. It should have been a ‘necessary matter’ announced along with your removal, or even in advance.”

Vanna subconsciously frowned again, but did not speak at once. Valentine went on: “Also, she chose to announce your removal in a ‘secret chamber’ known to no one. By church law, the secrets given by the Pope in a secret room must not be spoken by any other mouth, no matter what those secrets are. This serves as a kind of ‘safety signal’.”

Vanna had to admit that, as young as she was, she did not know the Storm Canon as deeply as an experienced priest like Bishop Valentine did. She had not thought of these key points at all.

“You mean…”

“No one will know about your removal,” Valentine said softly, looking calmly into Vanna’s eyes. “And no new Inquisitor will come to take over your post.”

Vanna blinked, her brows knitting. “Then how am I supposed to keep doing my duty in Pland?”

“I do not know,” Valentine said quietly. He lifted his head to look toward the end of the corridor ahead. After thinking a moment, he added, “But I suspect you may soon no longer need to carry out your duties in Pland.”

…

In the vast space below, Pope Helena stood quietly among the dim firelight. After a long time, she finally lifted her head and looked toward the distant darkness.

This was the very bottom of the Pilgrimage Ark, an area that ordinary people almost never had a chance to see and could not even imagine. She called it the “belly of the giant beast”, and in a sense, that was not wrong at all.

Helena started walking. She passed the burning braziers and reached a place that had not been lit by the fire before.

Clusters of flame spread out with her steps, slowly lighting up the whole dark space and revealing what had been hidden.

Vein-like patterns twisted across the floor. From the high dome hung huge tumor-like masses or nerve nodes. Nerve bundles and vascular pillars dangled from the dome, along with great pale supports that looked like bones.

All these things that had been swallowed by darkness now appeared before Helena’s eyes as the firelight spread.

She finally stopped in front of a huge “pillar”.

It was a pillar formed by many complex structures winding and piling together. Its surface was uneven, wrapped all over with nerve fibers and vascular systems like relief carvings. Deep within those nerves, she could faintly see tangled metal wires and silver needles glittering, as if they had crept down from the layers above.

At the top of this pillar, on the dim dome, even more dense hanging organs could be seen. Their surfaces were full of ridges and grooves, looking very much like… brains.

Helena stared at the pillar for a long time. Then she reached out and slowly stroked the ridged grooves formed by the nerve fibers.

“The Truth Academy… truly unbelievable craft,” she murmured in praise. “Who would have thought that a dead Leviathan could be ‘brought back’ in this way…”

As soon as she finished speaking, a low, squirming sound came from within the pillar. A hoarse, old voice then rose from some unknown structure inside it: “First of all, I was not exactly dead from the start. Second, I do not think what I am now counts as ‘alive’ either. Using life and death to describe a Leviathan is not very precise, young lady.”

“…I thought you were asleep.”

“I am asleep most of the time. But today you prayed so formally to Queen Gamona, and you even brought outsiders down here. I felt I should at least stay awake.”

The corner of Helena’s mouth seemed to twitch. “…Then did you like what you saw?”

“I think you are rather heartless,” the hoarse old voice replied again. “She has done very well. In the combined ratings of Inquisitors from all the city-states, none have surpassed her. And yet you just dismissed her. Do not talk about wavering faith as an excuse. We both know that as long as one can keep doing the job, that reason is the least important of all.”

“This is the arrangement of the Lord of Storms.” Helena spoke quietly.

The hoarse old voice paused noticeably before speaking again: “…Oh. Then I have no problem with it.”

Helena shook her head helplessly. “I thought you would at least ask a few more questions.”

But this time, the hoarse old voice gave no reply at all.

He had fallen asleep.

…

On the boundless expanse of the Boundless Sea, the ironclad warship The Sea Mist was cutting through the waves. As the warship slowly “healed” and now ran at full power, the thin layer of icy mist returned around the hull, constantly forming small bits of floating ice on the nearby sea.

Tyrian went to the bow and looked out over the open water ahead.

For some reason, a vague unease had been nagging at him.

At first, he thought it was the lingering “damage from being beaten by his father”, the stress built up from seeing his father several times near Pland’s coast and inside the city. But as The Sea Mist sailed farther and farther from Pland, the unease not only failed to fade, it grew even stronger.

It even left him slowly growing a little irritable.

It felt as if something was about to happen—or had already happened—and that it was very likely connected to him.

As an supernatural, he trusted his intuition in such matters.

Tyrian took a deep breath and pressed his hand on the rail in front of him, frowning in thought.

Just then, as if to confirm his growing unease, hurried footsteps suddenly sounded behind him.

Tyrian turned sharply and saw First Mate Aiden hurrying toward him.

The first mate, usually so calm, now had clear worry on his face.

Tyrian frowned at once. “What happened?”

“The chapel on board just received a Psychic Transmission from home port. Something happened in the waters near Frostholm…”

“Near Frostholm?” Tyrian felt his heart skip a beat and pressed on, “What is the situation?”

“…An ancient diving device suddenly appeared in the waters off Frostholm,” Aiden said, drawing in a breath as he spoke. “It is Submersible No. 3—the eighth one.”