Chapter 653

Chapter 653: Leftover Problems

Order in Lightwind Harbor was recovering quickly. Even though this time the Nameless One’s dream had spread much farther than the previous crises in Pland and Frostholm, its special nature meant that, once the “dream” faded, its effect on the Mortal Realm was actually the smallest.

Cities that had been swallowed returned to the Mortal Realm. Districts that had been covered and replaced by the nightmare were restored to how they had been. The flowing fire that had filled the sky in the Elder Gods’ nightmare never burned anyone’s head in reality. When a new day came, the border city had already gone back to its old look.

Of course, it was not true that the incident left Lightwind Harbor with no impact at all.

People still remembered the scene when the nightmare struck. Many citizens needed comfort, and the whole event needed a proper conclusion and explanation. Quite a number of people suffered short-term memory loss, hallucinations, and phantom sounds after they “woke up”. These symptoms were not strong enough to cause supernatural corruption, but psychiatrists still had to step in. Even more ordinary people were troubled by fatigue, sleepiness, and sudden, unexplained heart palpitations. These were aftereffects left by the Elder Gods’ nightmare draining and consuming their spirits, and no one yet knew how long it would take them to recover.

At 99 Crown Street in Lightwind Harbor, inside the Witch mansion, Duncan sat by the wide floor-to-ceiling window in the first-floor hall, looking at the street outside.

Steam Walkers belonging to the Academy were patrolling the street. Uniformed Knowledge Guards and constables were checking the districts for any leftover “dream residue”. Staff sent from the government office were knocking on doors one by one. They checked on the condition of each resident, wrote down those who needed help for “mental damage”, and took the more serious cases to nearby mental support rooms for treatment.

“…I just went to see Sara Mell. The situation in the city is better than we thought. There should not be much to worry about – my brother will definitely envy how Lightwind Harbor looks after this incident. Frostholm gave him a terrible headache back then.”

Lucretia stood beside Duncan as she spoke about what she had just checked outside.

“I also saw Master Taran Ael and that Truth Keeper who returned to the Mortal Realm. The first is in decent shape, just a bit drained and nervy. But to be honest, he is usually like that anyway. As long as his vital signs stay stable, we can call it a success…

“The other one was sent to the hospital. It is not really serious, just stomach trouble. Pouring down a whole bottle of Blood Raven Elixir put more strain on his digestive system than the mental damage did…”

Duncan listened to Lucy’s report half-heartedly, then said casually: “When we have time, we can visit that Truth Keeper. He knows about the Vanished’s activities at the border a hundred years ago. I want to talk with him about that.”

Lucretia nodded. Just then, a knock sounded from the entryway, cutting off her talk with Duncan.

Morris, who had been reading near the door, got up to open it. He exchanged a few words with the visitor, then the closing of the door echoed through the hall.

“They are staff sent from the government office,” Morris walked over and said to Duncan and Lucretia. “They are gathering data on the mental state of each household, asking if anyone in this house needs psychological help.”

Duncan gave Lucretia a strange look. She spread her hands. “Not everyone knows about the Witch mansion, especially those rank-and-file clerks who were rushed here from other districts during the emergency. Their daily work already wears them out. They have no time to learn about a house full of ghost stories.”

Duncan shrugged and turned to Morris: “What did you tell him?”

“I told him everyone in this house is in good mental health, and that I am especially healthy,” Morris said offhandedly. “Then the Rahm emblem he was using to detect mental corruption suddenly burned up in his hand. I think no one will come to bother this house again.”

“A new ghost story,” Duncan turned his head and said to Lucretia.

“We dodged some needless social contact again,” Lucretia seemed in a very good mood. “That is a good thing.”

Duncan laughed, then looked out the window again. He quietly watched the street as it slowly regained its usual life and energy. Only after a while did he finally speak, thoughtful: “The incident in Lightwind Harbor is over… It is time to deal with some ‘leftover problems’.”

Lucretia blinked. “You mean…”

“Is Rabby still on that ship?”

“…I understand. I will go check on that ‘nest’ first.”

…

Richard felt a little cold.

Ever since the last time he pulled out of that “Nameless One’s dream”, he had often felt a chill in his body, as if the blood in his veins was thinning and stopping. It felt as if his body could no longer make enough heat. Adding another layer of clothes did not help. Even wrapping himself in blankets in his room did nothing.

He did not understand what was happening. He clearly had plenty of warm cotton, yet he could not stop the heat from leaking out of his body. This “abnormality” left him a bit restless and irritable.

He had asked Rabby about it. Rabby had not given him an answer, only told him to wait patiently.

Luckily, there were still many things to do here, so Richard could put his attention on other matters for the time being.

The ship was sailing across the vast sea, moving along a secret route far from all major shipping lanes. Under the Saint’s order, they had already left the so-called “civilized world” far behind and would reach a supply port near the border in a few days.

In the meantime, the believers on the ship were busy clearing away all the “arrangements” left from their last operation. They reset the runes in the assembly hall, sealed the Dream-Skull again, and readjusted the ship’s hidden state so its “scent” would be hidden even further.

Richard and several of his brothers in faith were checking the runes and the “sacred relic” on the lower deck.

“The Saint said these symbols can block the Suntists from sensing this ship,” Dumont muttered beside him. “…I hope they really work that well.”

“After all, we pulled out at the key moment. To those ‘allies’, that must look like betrayal,” Richard said casually. Then he frowned a little in doubt. “But still… What happened that made the Saint end the operation so suddenly? Did the words of those Enders really carry that much weight?”

“I do not know,” Dumont shook his head. “But the Saint must have his own reasons. He can see the shadows in fate. I suppose he sensed some great danger hidden in that Nameless One’s dream…”

At that point, Dumont suddenly stopped. He quickly glanced around, then lowered his voice and leaned close to Richard’s ear: “Actually, I suddenly feel… this may have been a trap from the start. That so-called ‘Nameless One’s dream’ hid unimaginable danger. We were right to pull out when we did. Those Suntists might already be in trouble.”

Noticing how serious Dumont was, Richard also glanced around on instinct and whispered: “Why do you say that?”

“We backed out early some time ago,” Dumont raised his head and looked at the runes between the ceiling and the walls, which glowed faintly and ominously in the dark. “Yet that ‘Sun Spawn’ has not come here to the ship to hold us to account. To be honest, I do not believe runes meant to block ordinary supernatural beings can stop an offshoot of the Elder Gods.”

Richard froze for a second and finally started to react.

He should not have reacted this slowly. Most of the time, he was sharper than Dumont. But for some reason, his thoughts and reactions had become much slower than before.

It was as if only now, after Dumont’s reminder, he realized that the “Sun Spawn” might already have met with disaster.

“…You mean that Sun Spawn is already dead? Killed by the Nameless One’s dream?” Richard asked in a tense, uneasy whisper. “There should not be any power in the mortal world that can kill a Spawn. Could it be that dream…”

“It might also have been done by ‘his’ followers. Or by ‘him’ himself,” Dumont muttered. “You know who I mean.”

Richard shut his mouth at once and did not continue that topic.

They could not keep talking about it. Otherwise that ghost captain might turn his gaze here, drawn by their reckless words. The shadow of the Vanished would rise from the veil of night, and thick fog would sweep in and carry everyone away.

Everyone who sailed on the Boundless Sea had grown up hearing stories like that.

Even so, Richard could not help feeling a bit curious again.

He knew how powerful the Sun Spawn was. Even among all types of Spawn, they were the strongest. They were born directly from the black sea of the Sun’s fire, an essential offshoot of the Elder Gods. If the Mortal Realm had not been sealed and sheltered by the Four Gods, limiting the Sun Spawn so they could appear in the Mortal Realm only as projections, the full power of their bodies would have been enough to destroy a city-state in a short time. Power like that was hard to face, even for a mighty Saint.

Was that “ghost captain” really that strong?

Cold rose again from the depths of Richard’s heart. He shivered and quickly forced his wild thoughts under control, so his “thinking” would not draw some dangerous gaze from the darkness.

At the same time, he heard Dumont’s voice again in his ear.

“In any case, we left that whirlpool behind. A lot of people are still confused about it, but we are safe now.”

Richard stayed silent for a few seconds.

Icy cold spread through his heart. The blood in his veins seemed to have stopped flowing altogether. He felt cold, colder and colder.

He felt as if his body almost no longer produced any heat.

Even so, he still slowly nodded.

“Yes. No matter what, we are safe now.”