Chapter 39

Chapter 39. The Captain Set Foot on Land

When the pigeon said that, both its words and its tone were the same as always—silly, joking, and completely unserious.

But now it was an undead bird burning with ghostly flames. Semi-transparent flesh wrapped bones and tendons filled with fire. Its call was mixed with crackling bursts, like the wails of wronged souls leaking out when the gates of the underworld opened.

As it turned out, the distance between creepy and clownish was often not that great.

The spirit-form fire curling around Duncan still burned. He watched with his own eyes as the three cultists vanished in front of him, but he was not sure of the principle behind it.

He only knew that this was AI’s ability.

A few seconds later, after he confirmed that the three cultists truly were not coming back, he tilted his head a little and asked the pigeon on his shoulder: “…Where did you send them?”

AI flapped its wings and used its beak to preen its now semi-transparent feathers. It thought for a moment before suddenly blurting out: “Sent back into the Shadows!”

Duncan frowned. Lately he had started to learn how to understand the real meaning behind AI’s words: “…You mean you banished them into some kind of… parallel space? Or turned them into something that can’t be touched?”

The pigeon lifted its head and stared at Duncan with its wandering eyes: “Coo, coo!”

Now it was pretending to be a real pigeon again.

But Duncan believed he had already grasped the truth. He pressed a finger lightly on AI’s head, then once again looked around this dimly lit “Sanctuary World”.

Under the shaking light of the oil lamp, everything in the small room was clear. The believers of the Sun who had once hidden here had vanished completely from this world. Now, the only ones standing here were a ghost ship captain who had descended by taking over a cultist’s corpse—and his pigeon.

Yet somehow, Duncan had a feeling. He felt as if the three cultists were still here, right beside him, trapped in this room, squeezed into some gap in a dimension that no method could detect or touch.

He could even “feel” those cultists shouting and struggling in vain, feel their hopeless wish to reach the Mortal Realm again as an invisible barrier forever shut them out of it.

That feeling spread wordlessly through the air, until at some point Duncan saw proof of it. When the oil lamp on the table flickered a certain way, when the light and shadow crossed at just the right moment, he suddenly saw a mark appear on the nearby wall. It looked like the deep gouge left by a sword swung with full force—but when he looked again, the flames of the oil lamp wavered, and the mark vanished without a trace.

That was the last time those three believers of the Sun made contact with the Mortal Realm.

Duncan let out a quiet breath, turned with the pigeon, and left the room.

Outside the abandoned break room was a passage much narrower than the sewer corridors he had seen before. The deep, long passage stretched in both directions. One end led to a branching tunnel. The other connected to a ramp slanting upward.

Even though this area had been abandoned, the city’s administrators still clearly kept up some basic maintenance of these underground facilities—at least the gas lamps along the passage were still lit.

Duncan quickly judged the direction of the passage. Then, using the fragments of memory left in his mind, he worked out the route to the surface and soon strode toward the sloping ramp.

He walked faster and faster.

Fresh air began to appear. A cool breeze blew Duncan’s hair back. He heard faint, distant sounds, probably the roar of some factory on the surface running through the night, and, even farther away, the sound of waves… the sound of nighttime surf breaking against the rocks along the shore.

Duncan almost broke into a run.

Now free of the spirit-form flames and back to normal, the pigeon AI flapped its wings on his shoulder and called out happily: “The times are calling! The times are calling!”

Duncan suddenly stopped. He stared into the pigeon’s eyes: “Don’t talk randomly when we’re outside—normal pigeons don’t talk.”

AI thought for a moment, then beat its wings hard: “Aye, captain!”

Duncan was genuinely surprised. The pigeon had actually responded to him correctly for once. He did not know whether it was a coincidence or something else—but soon he stopped thinking about it.

He had to get ready to face this world.

He definitely could not walk outside in a black robe. In the memories he had “devoured”, this suspicious robe was only worn at secret rituals for the Sun’s believers. On the streets of the city above, showing up in such clothes meant getting tied to a tree and beaten by half a dozen patrol squad members.

The city-state of Pland had very strict curfews. Wandering at night seemed quite dangerous. Ordinary people who wanted to go out after dark had to carry permits and file in advance—this cultist whose body he had taken clearly did not have such legal papers. So if he wanted to move through the city, he had to avoid the night patrols.

Those responsible for keeping order in the city at night were called “Guardians”. They seemed to be the armed force of the Deep Sea Church. In the memories Duncan had absorbed, this body’s original master felt deep fear and hatred toward those armed priests…

Duncan quickly sorted through the memory fragments in his mind. Since they came from a corpse, the pieces were messy and vague. He could not piece together a complete life story of a “member of modern civilized society”, nor could he assemble all the details about the city-state of Pland. But even the most basic parts were enough to give him a rough idea for his next moves.

First, he took off the black robe at the foot of the ramp leading to the surface. Underneath was normal clothing that would not draw attention outside.

He considered burning the robe, but flames and smoke might draw the patrols. In the end, he only rolled it up and hid it in a corner near the ramp.

The Sun charm amulet was also something that might bring trouble. But it could also hold valuable information. After some hesitation, Duncan decided to keep it. Later, when he returned to the Vanished, he could use this charm amulet for another test and see if AI could bring it back as well.

He could study it safely aboard the Vanished.

After carefully smoothing away all traces of the hidden robe, he straightened himself up a bit, trying to look like an ordinary citizen instead of a cultist who had been skulking around, filthy and hunted, in the sewers. Only when all that was done did he step onto the ramp.

The rest of the way was not far.

Duncan hurried up the sloping path. Ever fresher air filled his chest. He could now clearly hear the sounds of distant factories and waves. A few minutes later, he even saw a faint, cold light spilling across the steps ahead.

He strode forward a few more steps, and that pale light finally bathed him completely.

He had reached the surface.

Solid, steady ground, washed in a dim, pale glow.

Duncan’s eyes widened. He saw a city—a city standing on the Boundless Sea, a city that represented mortal civilization. A huge scar in the sky stretched over it, lighting up the tightly packed rooftops, towers, and buildings in the distance. Not far ahead lay a somewhat worn-down fringe district. Farther away, on higher ground, he could see many distant, grand structures. That was the Upper City, where the great Cathedral and City Hall stood.

Duncan suddenly started laughing. No sound came out, but he laughed until he was out of breath.

After a short while, he forced himself to stop. He took a deep breath of the cold night air, then strode off in a direction he remembered.

cultists also had their own “normal lives”. Aside from a few “priests” who made harming others their full-time job, the Sun Church, like most other cults, relied on large numbers of ordinary people to keep running. These bewitched grassroots believers were mostly poor citizens from the lower layers of the city, overlooked old people, naive youths who had barely stepped into society, or people like the one whose body Duncan now occupied…

A sick, unnoticed ordinary person running a shady little antique shop in the Lower City, struggling against life and taxes.

The miserable life of the antique shopkeeper named “Ron” had come to an end. His debt to some evil deity had been wiped clean with his last breath. But he had still left a place for himself in this world… and Duncan liked that place very much.