Chapter 665

Chapter 665: Boundary Crossing Again.

Under Duncan’s gaze, Anomaly 132—the “lock”—sensibly opened itself, slipped off the hasp, and jumped to the other side of the table where it would not be in the way.

Duncan opened the dark wooden box, took out the carved Goathead inside, and set it on the chart table.

The “First Mate” at the edge of the table turned its head and stared at the carved Goathead that looked exactly like itself. Two pairs of eyes, carved like obsidian, met each other. After a long time, it let out a drawn-out sigh: “Wow—”

Duncan raised an eyebrow: “That is all you have to say?”

“It is too shocking. That was the only thing that came to mind.” Goathead’s head twisted back and forth on its base, as if trying hard to study its “other head” from different angles. It stretched its neck as far as it could and stared for quite a while, muttering as it did so: “I already had a faint feeling when you came back on board. And once you went to that ship, you were sure to bring this ‘Dream-Skull’ back, so that part did not surprise me. It is just that seeing it with my own eyes is still unbelievable. There really is one that looks exactly like me…”

It suddenly stopped there, sounding a bit puzzled: “Why is it not moving at all?”

“You are asking me?” Duncan gave him a strange look. “This is your own head.”

“But I am not familiar with it,” Goathead said in a very righteous tone. “Before this trip to Lightwind Harbor I did not even know I had a backbone…”

Duncan was speechless: “…”

The awkward and strange mood lasted for a few seconds. Goathead finally moved again and stretched its neck toward the “Dream-Skull”: “Could you bring it a bit closer?”

“Like this?” Duncan held the lifeless “Dream-Skull” next to Goathead and watched curiously. “Do you feel anything?”

“…Maybe a little closer?”

Duncan moved it a bit closer, and then a bit more. At last he simply pressed the “Dream-Skull” right against Goathead’s forehead, making the two carved Goatheads touch head to head: “All right, that is close enough. Do you feel anything or not?”

“Take it away, take it away… that is close enough,” Goathead cried, twisting his neck. Only when Duncan put the “Dream-Skull” back on the table did he let out a very human-like breath and mutter: “Still nothing. Aside from being able to sense its ‘existence’ very clearly, I cannot establish any ‘communication’ with this head. I cannot sense any thoughts or memories in it, and it is not responding to me either…”

He paused and thought it over, then shook his head: “It feels like just an empty shell. Aside from ‘existing’ and being ‘of the same source’, it seems to have nothing to do with me.”

Listening to Goathead’s description, Duncan frowned deeply.

“This situation is not quite what I expected,” he said, still frowning. “This is, after all, another shard of Saslokar. Even if it is a much more damaged part, it should still have some special traits. And the sacrificial ritual those cultists held before proved that this ‘Dream-Skull’ did have some ‘activity’… so why is there no reaction at all after contact with you?”

“I do not know, but at least I am sure this head is absolutely real—I really can feel its ‘existence’. The feeling is very subtle, and I do not know how to explain it to you…” Goathead spoke, then began to guess: “Maybe we are just using the wrong way to make contact? Or… maybe those cultists messed up the sacrificial ritual and broke this head? After all, those bastards kept using elf blood to stimulate the ‘Dream-Skull’…”

Duncan’s expression grew serious and thoughtful. He glanced at Goathead again: “Those cultists are indeed bastards—but do you not feel strange talking about your other head being ‘broken’?”

“Of course it is strange, but I cannot think of a better word,” Goathead said helplessly. “Look at the state I am in now. I am completely dead and shattered anyway…”

Duncan: “…”

He had noticed that after the Lightwind Harbor incident, his First Mate had changed in some ways. The most obvious point was how big-hearted he had become, almost to a degree that seemed unhealthy…

Duncan shook his head, pushing aside the strange thought that had just flashed through his mind. Then he patted the lifeless “Dream-Skull” with his hand.

“In any case, the current state of this ‘Dream-Skull’ is definitely not right. Maybe those cultists really did something to it that changed it. Or maybe we just have not found the right way to awaken it. Or… perhaps it is ‘missing’ something. In any event, I will leave it here for now and let you watch for any changes. What do you think?”

“I will follow whatever you arrange,” Goathead said at once. “And I am very curious about this head myself. Leaving it here will let me study it whenever I have time.”

Duncan nodded slightly: “Good.”

Then he lifted his gaze and looked out the window.

The setting sun had already sunk a third of the way below the horizon. Before he knew it, dusk was near. The remaining golden-red radiance of Vision 001 spread magnificently over the Boundless Sea. In another direction, the golden sunlight from the glowing geometric body near Lightwind Harbor grew even more dazzling as dusk approached. Between those crisscrossing beams of light, the silhouette of the distant city-state looked a little hazy.

How long could such a peaceful sunset scene last?

For some reason, such a thought suddenly rose in Duncan’s heart. But then he sighed softly and set those stray thoughts aside.

“I am going back to my room to rest for a while. Once Lucretia finishes dealing with things on her side, I will go into the city with her again. Take good care of the Vanished during this time.”

“Yes, Captain.”

Duncan nodded, stood up, and walked toward the bedroom door at the back of the captain’s cabin. Suddenly he stopped again and looked curiously at Goathead on the table: “You said you wanted to ‘study’ this Dream-Skull. How are you going to study it? You do not even have hands.”

“That is a good question,” Goathead mused. After a moment he lifted his head with full confidence: “I will start by trying to talk to it. Maybe those cultists made this head shut itself off. If I counsel it a bit, I might help it untie the knot in its heart…”

Duncan at once gave up any hope for Goathead’s “research”.

But he did not say anything. He only gave Goathead a look that said “do your best”, waved his hand, and turned to walk into the bedroom.

With a bang, the dark wooden door closed.

In the empty captain’s cabin, only the two carved Goatheads on the table were left in their own quiet.

This silence lasted for an unknown time before Goathead finally turned his head and looked at the motionless “Dream-Skull”.

“…Have you heard of the eighteen cuisines of the Boundless Sea?”

…

After dozing off for only a few minutes, Duncan suddenly woke with a start because of a rumbling noise that seemed to come from nowhere.

He rose quickly from the bed, but the cabin and the space outside were already quiet again.

In the dim bedroom, only a consecrated lantern on the desk gave off a light that seemed a bit too weak. Outside the nearby window it was pitch-black, as if the veil of night had already been hanging there for a long time. It was silent beyond the door, and no sound came from the direction of the corridor or the deck.

Duncan sat on the edge of the bed in the dark. A vague feeling of pressure rose in him from some unknown place. He remembered what had happened before he came back to his room to rest, and then he noticed something wrong in his surroundings.

It was too quiet—not even the sound of waves hitting the hull could be heard. The “veil of night” outside the window also seemed too dark. He could see neither the fading “sunlight” from the glowing geometric body near Lightwind Harbor nor the cold glow spread over the sea by the World’s Wound.

Duncan frowned and suddenly felt something. He left the bed quickly and went to the window beside his desk.

In the endless dim void, a band of turbid, dark radiance slid silently past in the far distance outside the window. In the space briefly lit by that light, some huge, twisted shadows slowly rose at the edge of his sight, rolling without a sound.

Subspace!

Duncan’s heart gave a sudden jolt, and he realized at once what had happened.

After so long, he had “wandered” into Subspace again!?

He still remembered what it had been like the first time he entered Subspace. He also remembered that it had happened after a “nap” as well, and that he had at first thought it was a strange “dream”. That was also the only time he had ever entered this “time and space” that the world saw as forbidden. After that, so much time had gone by that he had almost forgotten it.

Now the same thing had happened again.

Duncan frowned and silently raised his guard. First he summoned a clump of flame and hid it in his hand, then he walked carefully toward the door.

He no longer treated this as some kind of “sleepwalking”.

Because he knew that he did not dream. Even though he did not know the reason behind it, “dreams” did not seem to belong to him.

He came to the bedroom door and listened at it for a moment. Then he slowly pushed it open.

Outside was the dim, deathly still captain’s cabin. The ruined other “Vanished” appeared in his sight just as it had last time, showing signs of being abandoned for a century everywhere. Empty shelves leaned crookedly in the corners. A dirty Oval Scrying Mirror hung on the cracked and mottled wall. Piles of black, suspicious shadowy junk lay on the floor. The only intact chart table stood alone in the center of the room, and the mysterious enchanted sea chart on it gave off a faint glow.

A pitch-black carved wooden Goathead sat quietly on the table. It slowly lifted its head and fixed its gaze on Duncan.