Chapter 707

Chapter 707: .

The fleet moved at low speed through the condensed, lingering fog. Their hazy silhouettes looked at one another, like a cluster of massive ghosts rising and falling in a sea of mist.

Inside the eternal Veil, the power of the fog far surpassed that outside the barrier. As the fleet pushed onward, the surrounding mist grew harder and harder to disperse. Even with the blazing spirit flame lighthouse shining over the entire formation, thin fog still kept drifting in from the edges of the sea, wrapping around every ship and flowing across the decks. The omnipresent mist even began to seep into the cabins, drifting around the sailors.

Commander Sandra of the Tide stood at the command station in the ship’s bridge, frowning as he watched the thin fog slowly curling around them.

He was a tall man with slightly dark skin and striking short hair the color of white gold. The storm tattoo on the left side of his face showed that he had once been an ascetic, who had completed all his vows and thus earned promotion and divine blessing. That was how he became a respected border commander. Now, however, this border commander’s expression did not look hopeful.

“How far have we gone?”

Sandra turned his head and suddenly asked the technical Father beside him.

“We are closing in on the six-nautical-mile boundary—only the last mile left,” answered the Father, whose gray hair stuck out beneath a robe embroidered with thunder and gear emblems. “Our speed is low, but even at this pace we will soon reach that ‘limit’.”

Sandra nodded, but his frown deepened.

Six nautical miles… and that lighthouse still showed no sign of stopping. It was still leading the fleet slowly toward the deeper fog, which meant that so-called “holy ground” lay farther inside. But if they went on like this, the fleet would soon cross that “forbidden line”.

Beyond six nautical miles lay the absolute limit of civilization’s light. Once they crossed it, the last trace of order on the Boundless Sea would vanish, even if the Saint and the Pope came in person.

The great Cathedral of Storms had ordered the Tide to fully cooperate with the Vanished’s operation here, but that did not include crossing the “six?nautical?mile boundary”.

Sandra looked toward the depths of the mist ahead, his brow still furrowed.

Those Annihilators still had not appeared… which also made no sense.

With such a narrow “safe sea” along the border, a fleet this large was hard to hide—especially with that blazing flame lighthouse standing in the fog. If the cultists really were hiding nearby, they would have noticed this formidable joint fleet long ago. Whether they chose to meet them head-on or set an ambush, this sea should not be so “quiet”. It was so quiet it was as if… there were no cultists here at all.

Had they all escaped already?

A bold thought flashed through Sandra’s mind, and he sank into deeper reflection.

Those cultists had probably known their secret was exposed long ago. After their ship of “sacrificial rites”, soaked in blood and evil, was captured by Captain Duncan, they truly had enough time to flee this place. But the key question was…

Would a bunch of fanatical cultists really abandon their “holy ground” out of fear?

Some of them might run for their lives. But based on Sandra’s many years of dealing with cultists, more of those crazed heretics would definitely stay behind, squeezing every vile and terrifying trick they had to fight the Churches to the death. Those madmen whose minds were completely rotted by blasphemous thoughts had never been stingy about sacrificing their own lives for their “faith”.

Tiny scraps of noise drifted into Sandra’s ears, like sharp but faint tinnitus. Along with the ringing came trembling shadows at the edges of his vision.

Sandra frowned, glancing down at the rail in front of him. Under the handrail, the metal was shining with iridescent colors. Oily “droplets” were forming in those colors and dripping one by one onto the deck.

Illusions—hallucinations and phantom sounds common in the border sea. But at the “depth” where the fleet now sailed, they were actually quite mild.

That, he knew, was thanks to the power of the giant flame lighthouse.

“Have the cathedrals on board light the incense and ring the prayer bells. Increase pressure in the steam pipes,” Sandra said, lifting his head to glance at the ghostly green flame in the distance. “Remind the other ships to watch their crews’ mental state.”

…

Commander Polly of the Rest looked down at her right hand in its black long glove. She slowly clenched her fist. When she opened it again, the few vague eyeballs that had appeared in her palm without warning were gone.

This priestess with the dark gold curls raised her head and muttered softly: “The world in front of us feels less and less real…”

“At present, everyone’s mind is still stable. Mild hallucinations can be overcome and recognized by reason,” said a lower-ranked priest beside Polly. “The Tide just sent word. Similar hallucinations are spreading on their side as well, but the level of corruption is still low.”

“Hallucinations that are clearly bizarre aren’t that frightening. What’s frightening are the things that look perfectly normal and fit our common sense,” Polly shook her head. “Or to put it another way… what’s frightening is when we feel everything around us is normal.”

“We are already deep inside the Veil. This is close to the furthest distance anyone has ever gone,” the lower priest said carefully. “In the past, even when the Deep Sea Church used a large number of mobile lighthouses and temporary cathedrals, they only managed to push six nautical miles into the Veil…”

Polly did not reply. She only looked out through the bridge windows at the distant mist. Through the haze, she saw a ghostly green flame rising into the sky, illuminating the whole sea, its image growing slightly larger in her vision.

After a while, she broke the silence in a low voice: “We’ve slowed down…”

…

Under Duncan’s order, the Guide Vessel, blazing like a giant Sacred beacon Torch, began to slow down and edged in alongside the Vanished.

The joint fleet following this “lighthouse” reacted at once, tightening their formation as they shifted into a more compact array.

At the raised platform on the stern, Vanna stood and looked over the gathered ships.

Frankly speaking, grouping into a dense formation in a dangerous sea where enemies might be lurking was not a good idea. It would probably make many true naval experts explode in sharp, whistling curses. But in this strange, deadly border, many things simply could not be done by “common sense”.

Compared to enemy fire from afar, the risk of getting lost in the thick fog after spreading out was clearly greater. And what worried them most was not a ship that got lost in the fog—but one that got lost and then came back.

But after this whole tense and cautious journey, the joint fleet had not run into any “gunfire” at all. The only thing with them was fog. Endless fog.

“Where did those cultists go?” Vanna could not help frowning and muttering under her breath.

Footsteps sounded from behind her. Duncan’s voice followed: “How likely do you think it is that they all ran? If they really wanted to flee, they’ve had more than enough time.”

“I don’t think that group of madmen would give up their holy ground so easily—even with you here in person, there will definitely be extremists ready to die with it,” Vanna shook her head. “Their words and deeds may be blasphemous and insane, but when it comes to ‘devotion’, I still have to admit it.”

“…According to what I can feel from that Guide Vessel, we should already be near the holy ground. Its desire to ‘go home’ points to this sea,” Duncan said slowly. He walked to the rail and looked at the strangely calm “silent sea” that existed only in the border waters. “Now I’m really curious how those Annihilators discovered this place and decided there was a ‘holy ground’ here worth settling in. I don’t see anything… Could it be that their blind faith really bought them some kind of ‘guidance’?”

As Duncan finished speaking, Vanna opened her mouth, ready to answer. But before she could say a word, a faint “thunk… thunk…” suddenly sounded from outside the hull, cutting off their conversation.

It sounded like something had drifted over and was bumping again and again against the side of the Vanished.

Duncan and Vanna shared a glance, then both strode quickly toward the source of the sound. Duncan leaned over the rail and looked down.

On the mirror-smooth sea, which had an oily sheen to it, a pitch-black shape was floating beside the hull of the Vanished. The border sea was calm and still, yet the thing on the surface bobbed up and down as if pushed by invisible waves, knocking softly against the wooden planking over and over. With each rise and fall, its outline became clearer before Duncan’s and Vanna’s eyes—

It was a pitch-black human shape.

The moment he saw it, Duncan’s gaze hardened. He lifted his hand and gestured in the air: “Get that thing on board.”

A streak of ghostly green fire flashed past. The burning Skeletal Roc dove from a nearby mast and skimmed low across the water. In almost the blink of an eye, it returned to the deck.

Soon, everyone aboard the Vanished had gathered after hearing the news.

The “human shape” Ai had hauled up lay motionless on the deck.

It was a black Humanoid Husk about one meter eighty tall. It only had the rough outline of a person. There were no facial features, no hair, not even details on the hands and feet. It looked… exactly like a “rough husk” of clay made halfway through pinching out a doll.

Several pairs of eyes turned to Duncan at the same time. Duncan examined the black-mud rough husk with a grave expression, then slowly nodded.

“…It really is the same kind of thing as those we saw in the Deep Sea beneath Frostholm.

“It’s a ‘mortal’ in a half-finished state… from the Abyssal Deep Holy Master’s Work of Creation.”