Chapter 627

Chapter 627: The “Sample” Preserved Till Today

The terrible “sleep” and disappearance were spreading across the whole world. From the distant Northern Seas to the southern oceans, from the mist-filled eastern borders to the western archipelago, almost every city-state had elves who suddenly fell into slumber, and strange, unexplainable “disappearances.”

And the message Ted Riel sent from the depths of the Nameless One’s dream was also being spread to the whole world through the mouths of those sleeping elves.

Cathedrals rang their bells one after another. Telegraphs and psychic communication began to carry news between city-states. Governors and archbishops shared updates in real time, and the joint monitoring and defense system that the Four Gods Church had only recently created now started up in haste.

People had thought this system would be used to watch the Deep Sea beneath the city-states. No one expected its first real use to be because of a dream that had entered a runaway state.

A whirlwind made of fluttering, colored paper scraps spun through layers of vines, leaves, and rooftops, drilling straight into the governor’s office in the city hall.

Governor Sara Mell, who had been talking with several city hall officials, raised her head at once and looked at the “sea witch” stepping out from the colored paper.

“I suddenly remembered I should come check on city hall,” Lucretia walked over to the large oval desk. “You look very busy.”

“Up to my neck in trouble, Lady,” Sara Mell waved to the city hall officials beside her, dismissing them for now. “I heard you just helped the constable units that were trapped in trouble—thank you very much for your help.”

“How are things now?”

“The city is in chaos. Sixteen districts have completely lost contact. Thick vegetation has blocked every road. A large number of residents are missing. The Security Corps and the Guardians can hardly get into those areas. The steam hubs have shut down. For safety, we also turned off gas for the whole city—thank the gods that at least can still be shut off, but no one knows what we are supposed to do tonight,” Sara Mell said in one breath. “As for outside the city… I imagine you already know what is happening elsewhere. Countless reports are coming in from every channel, but I really do not have any extra energy to pay attention to other city-states now.”

“What about the message from Ted Riel? Do you know about that?”

“Yes, I know,” Sara Mell nodded. “First, two hours ago, we got word from the team that Taran Ael was part of. They said that after the team left the dream, the Truth Keeper did not return to the Mortal Realm. Half an hour ago, I received the latest report. His Excellency the Truth Keeper is trapped in the deepest part of the Nameless One’s dream…”

She stopped, a hard-to-describe, complex look on her face. It seemed she wanted to let out a long sigh, but in the end only the corner of her mouth twitched. “Elves have always been proud of our long, complete heritage. We believe that those ancient tales and myths were once real history, symbols of our old civilization—and now our tales and myths have come to kill us.”

Lucretia silently watched the respected governor. After a moment, she finally spoke slowly: “But until last night, the information we had still said that Atlantis wanted to shelter the elves in the Sanctuary World. Even now, I have reason to believe that this ‘protection’ is still working—only… in a very dangerous way.”

Sara Mell’s face twitched. “…Yes. Because Atlantis has gone mad.”

“I want to see Taran Ael and the other knowledge guards who went into the Nameless One’s dream with him,” Lucretia said. “I did not find them at the city-state university.”

“They are in a quarantine facility under observation and questioning. I will tell you where it is…”

…

The solemn Great Storm Cathedral stood quietly on the highest ground in Pland. The square in front of the Great Cathedral was as lively as ever—on every open day, many citizens gathered here: some entered the cathedral to worship, some came to the nearby facilities to receive divine blessings and treatment, and some were simply here to visit.

Duncan wore a plain brown coat and black trousers. He followed the group of visitors entering the cathedral through the grand archway, then walked deeper inside along the route Vanna had described in his mind.

He passed through the main hall and the prayer aisle open to visitors, then through a side corridor next to the preaching area, and kept going along a route that even many of the cathedral’s own staff did not know well.

In his mind, the voice of the Inquisitor sounded: “…Go through that small black door up ahead. After you enter, turn right. After about twenty meters there is a fork, and the path on the left leads to the inner courtyard…

“…This route is the quietest. If you keep going to the end, you will see the side door of the inner chapel. I have already spoken with Bishop Valentine and asked him to wait for you in the chapel. Everything along the way has been arranged. No one will stop you, and the guards on the way do not know who you are… Yes, only Bishop Valentine knows the truth…

“…If you want to come to the Great Cathedral again in the future, you can also use this route. By the way, the room where I used to rest in the Great Cathedral is right next to the chapel. You could also go there… though I know you will not need it…”

Listening to the Inquisitor’s voice in his mind, Duncan lifted his gaze.

The inner chapel was ahead. This place was not open to the public and was only for the high-ranking priests of the Deep Sea Church. A plain black wooden door stood quietly at the end of the path, with two fully armed church guards standing tall on either side, like two grim statues.

Duncan walked toward the door.

The guards at the door did not even move their eyes. It was as if they could not see Duncan at all. They kept their serious, forward-facing stares.

This was clearly the result of arrangements made in advance. Duncan could almost imagine what orders the guards along this path had received—

Today, a special guest would visit the Great Cathedral.

Do not listen. Do not look. Do not ask. Do not think.

He gave them a polite smile, then walked past the two guards and gently pushed open the black door covered with sacred sigils.

A faint sound of waves rose and faded in his ears, and a damp, cold breath seemed to appear for a moment and then quickly vanish. Duncan felt as if he had stepped through an invisible barrier, and then he entered a wide, brightly lit room.

Valentine, the highest bishop of the city-state of Pland, was standing in the center of the room.

The thin-haired old man wore a black priest’s robe patterned with gold. He stood with his back to the door, facing a statue of the Storm Goddess that filled the room with a mysterious, holy air, and seemed to be in devout benediction. Only when he heard the door open did he turn and look at the special guest standing at the entrance.

It was easy to see that the old man was a little nervous, even though he was trying hard to control it.

“Hello, Bishop Valentine. We meet again,” Duncan said with a slight smile as he walked toward him. “But for you, this should be the first time seeing me in this ‘form.’”

Valentine examined the “Duncan” who had entered the room with curiosity.

What he saw was only an ordinary middle-aged man in a simple old coat, neither tall nor strong, the kind you could see anywhere in the city-state.

But after only a second, the sharp warning from his reason urged him to shift his gaze away and stop staring at that shell which only looked like a human body.

“I know. This is the avatar form you use when you move through the city-state. I heard Vanna mention it,” Valentine lowered his eyes a little. “She also told me about the situation. Everything you asked for is ready.”

The old bishop raised his hand and pointed to a large wooden chest next to the statue.

There lay the original records from when the Vanished had been built a century ago, and… one very important “sample.”

Several bright candle stands had been set up around the chest. Now and then, faint illusions rose in the candle flames, showing that they had been given divine blessings. On either side of the chest, Duncan could see stone slabs, iron chains, and other sealing items, clearly also part of the safety measures.

It seemed that even after this chest of “shipbuilding records” had been taken out of the sealed vault and placed here in the chapel watched directly by the Goddess, it was still treated with extreme care. Bishop Valentine had come here ahead of time to keep watch, most likely also to guard against anything inside the chest entering a runaway state.

“…Is it really that dangerous?” Duncan walked toward the chest, then could not help turning his head to ask: “Do these sealing measures actually do anything?”

“In fact, no,” Valentine answered quite bluntly. “Because nothing in this chest has ever actually ‘acted up.’”

Duncan froze for a moment. “Then all this is…”

“For peace of mind,” Valentine said frankly. “Nothing in the chest has acted up, but everyone knows it must have some link, in terms of supernatural, with the Vanished. So we simply used every sealing method we could think of—the version you see here is already simplified. In the sealed vault where this chest was originally stored, there were far more ‘safety measures’ than this.”

Duncan had nothing to say to that.

After a moment, he shook his head, ignored the sudden awkwardness in the air, and stepped forward to open the chest.

The chest was not locked—the lock had already been removed when it was brought here.

“The Vanished’s original design blueprints, technical parameters, and engineering logs… In fact, the full set of records was much larger, but the less important parts were all burned to ash in the shipyard fire back then. Only these were left and sealed in this chest…”

Valentine’s voice came from beside him. The old bishop had walked to Duncan’s side and now looked down into the chest as he spoke in a low voice.

“Of course, I guess what you really want is not just these plans, but… that thing in the middle of the chest.

“The keel sample kept according to the shipbuilding customs of a century ago.”

Duncan’s gaze rested quietly on the gray-black block of wood lying in the middle of a piece of black silk.

It was the “sample” cut from the original keel of the Vanished.