Chapter 96

Chapter 96: gaze

Inside the captain’s cabin of the Vanished, Duncan was sitting by the window with his arms folded across his chest, eyes closed as he rested. He slowly opened his eyes.

He glanced around at the familiar furnishings of the room, checked the state of his body, and let out a small breath of relief.

Right now, he had once again shifted his main consciousness to the Vanished. The body left in the city-state of Pland remained in the antique shop. He was a bit rusty as he controlled that body to tidy the first-floor shop and hang the “Closed for the Evening” sign on the door.

In the captain’s cabin, Duncan slowly rose from the chair. As he flexed his arms and legs, he looked toward the nearby desk. He saw the pigeon AI strolling along the edge of the tabletop. The Sun mask he had sent here earlier still lay quietly on the desk. In the afterglow of the sunset pouring through the window, the mask’s golden surface shimmered with a trancelike sheen, as if illusory flames were flowing through its golden patterns.

In front of the antique shop, the Duncan there as shopkeeper finished hanging the wooden “Closed for the Evening” sign. He turned and greeted a neighbor who happened to be on the way home. With a faint smile, he chatted with this “old neighbor” about today’s weather and how business had been lately.

His expression in front of the antique shop looked a little stiff, and his speech was somewhat slow, but the neighbor did not grow suspicious. A useless gambler who had been drowning in alcohol not long ago was now actually living seriously—that alone was shocking enough. Compared to that, a slightly sluggish reaction was nothing. How energetic could a body ruined by alcohol be, anyway?

Back in the captain’s cabin, a faint smile appeared on Duncan’s face. After using his “remote interaction shell” to complete a first attempt at socializing, he casually picked up the Sun mask lying on the desk.

There was still much to do in the city-state of Pland, but not everything could be done overnight. The city-state had strict curfew rules after nightfall. At night it was better for his human body to stay obediently in the shop so as not to draw attention. The hours after dusk were best left to the “true body” on the Vanished.

He planned to use this time to study the mask he had taken from that Sun priest.

The mask felt icy cold in his hand, as if cast entirely from metal. It was heavy, with real weight.

Looking at the golden object in his hand, Duncan’s thoughts suddenly grew lively. The first thing he wondered was whether this thing was pure gold. If it was, then after he finished studying it, melting it down might fetch a lot of money…

For now he had no financial pressure in the city-state, but money was something one could never have too much of in human society. What if he needed it later?

There were many ways to fleece those Suntists. He could squeeze information out of them, turn them in for bounties, or get supernatural items that suited him. If there were extra supernatural items he did not need, it was perfectly normal to do a little processing and sell them off.

This was called multi-directional development and sustainable wool-gathering.

He thought it over for a moment, then rubbed his chin and sighed with feeling: “Every part of a Suntist is a treasure…”

AI, who had been strolling around, suddenly stopped. She tilted her head at Duncan and let out a sharp female voice: “Have some humanity, would you! Have some humanity!”

“You, a bird, have no right to say that to me.” Duncan glared at the pigeon, then rubbed his fingertips together, ready to summon the spirit form flame. He would first “clean” the mask from inside to outside, and after he controlled its permissions, he would carry out a deeper “test”.

A wisp of faint green flame burned at his fingertips. Duncan was about to channel the fire into the mask when he suddenly heard a vague voice. The sound was weak and hazy, as if whispering in the depths of his heart:

“…it might instead connect them to the Vanished…”

Duncan’s movements stopped at once.

He looked at the pigeon beside him and asked: “Did you hear a voice just now?”

The pigeon thought for a moment, then flapped her wings and began to sing loudly, hopelessly off-key: “Hear~ the sound of the sea crying~ lamenting whose heart has been hurt again~”

“Stop, stop, stop… I should never have asked you!” Duncan hurriedly pressed the pigeon down. In his heart he complained that talking with this bird was like a quantum state—nothing said or heard ever lined up. After holding the pigeon still, he focused his mind at once, trying to trace the brief sensation that had stirred in his heart when that “whisper” sounded.

He was sure he had not imagined it. He was sure he had heard a voice just now, a young and calm female voice.

At the same time the voice sounded, he had vaguely sensed a kind of “connection”. It was much weaker than the link between him and his remote body, but it definitely existed.

Duncan temporarily put the matter of the Golden Sun Mask aside and glanced again at the spirit form flame still burning quietly at his fingertips.

That faint connection also seemed to be based on the burning of the fire.

He closed his eyes slightly, feeling the “sense of direction” the flame gave him. In the darkness that followed, he seemed to see a glimmer of light appear before his eyes.

That faint light was vaguely like a “window”. There seemed to be a figure moving inside it, but he could not see clearly or hear what was happening on the other side.

Even so, Duncan still sensed the flame’s guidance in the unseen. He opened his eyes and searched in the direction where the light had appeared in the darkness. Suddenly he saw a mirror hanging beside the cabin door.

It was just an ordinary oval scrying mirror with a simple, dark wooden frame. It was not an supernatural item, no different from what many regular households used.

But Duncan could feel that his flame now needed a medium to strengthen this suddenly formed, weak link. Thinking of the blurry scene he had seen in the dark and the faint sense of its direction, a mirror seemed very suitable.

In many occult studies rituals, mirrors held an important place. They were seen as symbols of “insight” and could be used to extend the mind’s perception, to observe truths that were originally invisible and unknowable.

Duncan walked up to the mirror and casually touched the surface with the flame in his hand.

The green spirit form flame flowed like water, rippling across the glass surface. A film of light, faintly glowing green, formed a channel in an instant. In the next second, the glimmering window he had seen in the darkness appeared crystal clear on the mirror!

He leaned in curiously.

Within the faintly rippling curtain of light, he saw a room lit by lamps. A tall, unusually large young lady stood near the window, using the last light of day to read something. She seemed completely unaware that a gaze was peering through the glass beside her, watching the scene inside the room.

Vanna’s eyes moved across the document, checking every word and sentence.

This notice had been drawn up through joint discussion by bishops from all the city-states and personally reviewed and approved by His Eminence the Pope, who presided over the great Storm Cathedral. The discussion and drafting of the notice had been completed remotely in a state of Psychic Resonance, under the Goddess’s gaze and protection throughout, to ensure that no Anomaly or Vision interfered with the wording during the process.

These very special notice documents had only one purpose: to inform every long-distance voyager sailing on the Boundless Sea that a high-ranked Anomalous item had broken away from the control of the civilized world.

This was necessary.

On the Boundless Sea, Anomalous items that entered a runaway state did not disappear from the world forever. The Deep Sea devoured everything, yet never devoured the “Anomalies” that fell into it. Those that slipped free of control often wandered along the edges of the civilized world in even stranger, harder-to-guard-against ways, like packs of wolves roaming around a pasture, chasing and threatening the safety of voyagers. Almost every year, long-distance seafarers died after encountering runaway state Anomalies.

As guardians and sealers of Anomalous items, each Church had to inform all captains who might encounter them whenever an Anomalous item under its name entered a runaway state. No one saw this as hurting the Holy See’s “face”, because it was the Church’s duty and obligation.

Sending out timely notices about runaway states might one day save an unlucky ship that ran into an Anomaly, or make it possible to re?seal and contain a runaway state Anomalous item.

Normally such notices reached Harbor offices within twenty?four hours of a runaway state incident. But this notice about “Anomaly 099” was a little late.

Because this runaway state incident involved not only Anomaly 099 – doll spirit coffin, but also Visions 005 – the Vanished.

The Pope and the bishops had to weigh every word in the document carefully, to make sure the information disclosed was accurate, yet also avoid drawing the attention of the Vanished when people read it.

Vanna’s face was as calm and dark as still water. She read the document word by word, checking that the phrasing followed the sacred, unseen structure of prayer and could avoid the gaze of that ghost captain on the Vanished.

And on the window glass beside her, in a seam of light and shadow neither she nor the regional bishop could perceive, Duncan was craning his neck, trying hard to peek at the document’s contents.

[ghost captain, deeply shocked.jpg.]