Morris departed, his expression peculiar as he held an antique artillery shell in hand while Duncan stood behind the counter and observed his departure with a delighted grin.
“You really gave Mr. Morris that artillery shell,” Alice muttered to herself.
“Actually, he handed the artillery shell to Mr. Morris…” Nina mumbled similarly.
“I’m not fond of artillery shells,” Alice whispered, “not in the slightest.”
“Why?” Nina inquired with curiosity.
“Because the captain once gifted me eight artillery shells,” Alice replied gravely.
“Enough with the complaints,” Duncan interjected from the side. He glanced helplessly at the disgruntled Alice and the obviously fascinated Nina beside her, “Where’s Shirley?”
“She mentioned feeling dizzy and nauseous from memorizing the alphabet, so she stepped outside for fresh air,” Nina stuck out her tongue, “But I bet she’s already made her way to the next block.”
“Figures,” Duncan sighed, “Considering Shirley’s cultural background and personal refinement, it’s quite impressive that she manages not to curse in my presence every day…”
Sighing, he turned his head to peer out the window. Through the transparent display, the familiar and serene streetscape of Pland came into sight.
The streets teemed with people, and the townsfolk were preoccupied with their daily tasks. Nothing out of the ordinary had transpired in the lower city today—the brief glitch of Vision 001, the nearly imperceptible flaw on the solar rune ring, the long-abandoned deep-dive mission in the distant north, and the enigmatic symbol left by the ancient Crete kingdom—all appeared far removed from this sunlit neighborhood.
He squinted for a moment, and after some time, he murmured to himself, “As I thought, Tyrian left early…”
…
At the city-state’s southeastern port, the colossal steel warship Sea Mist was preparing to embark.
The ship, which had sustained substantial damage from the Vanished, had undergone several days of “self-healing” and was now more than half restored. The numerous gashes and fissures on its armor belt and deck had fully mended, leaving no trace of harm. The undying sailors bustled between the pier and the warship, loading provisions and parting gifts generously offered by Pland.
“We didn’t anticipate your departure so soon,” Vanna said, arriving to bid the captain farewell after hearing the news, “The Archbishop had arranged for the Sea Mist to remain as a guest for at least a fortnight.”
“Truthfully, I assumed I’d be here for quite some time too, but unforeseen circumstances arose,” Tyrian rubbed his forehead lightly, “There’s an issue in the north that requires my attention.”
Though this seemed like a mere pretext, Vanna had no interest in probing into matters others preferred to keep private. She merely gazed at Tyrian with a hint of concern, her eyebrows slightly furrowed, “Please forgive my intrusion… Captain, is your face swollen?”
“Just a minor mishap, a small accident,” Tyrian hastily waved his hand, grateful that he had already undergone another day of recovery. If the inquisitor had seen him yesterday, he wouldn’t have known how to justify his head, which had swelled to a significantly larger size.
Subsequently, he promptly shifted the conversation to avert further awkwardness: “I’ve genuinely enjoyed my time in Pland and am grateful for your gifts.”
“I’m pleased you appreciated them,” Vanna said, smiling as she glanced up at the towering hull of the Sea Mist and the main gun turrets visible from the side. “Even though I’ve heard about it, witnessing it firsthand is truly remarkable… this ship actually ‘healed’ itself, and those main guns that were utterly destroyed have… ‘regrown’?”
Tyrian looked back at his warship, his face beaming with pride at the newly restored guns: “The Sea Mist is aware of its intended appearance and constantly strives to maintain itself in peak condition. However, those few main guns aren’t quite functional at the moment. They’re still small and require several more days to grow before they can fire standard caliber shells like the other main guns.”
Vanna was taken aback, sensing something odd about the way Tyrian observed his ship’s main guns and the tone of his voice, but she couldn’t pinpoint it…
Luckily, she wasn’t one to fixate on such minutiae.
At 3:20 in the afternoon, accompanied by a melodious horn, the towering steel warship gradually accelerated and departed the city-state.
Vanna stood on the dock, watching the warship recede into a barely discernible silhouette on the horizon, before sighing and boarding the black steam car that had been waiting nearby.
The driver glanced at the visibly fatigued inquisitor through the rearview mirror: “You seem worn out?”
“Handling paperwork is far more mentally taxing than battling heretics with a sword,” Vanna replied, stretching her neck and casually reclining in the back seat. “Additionally, I’ve been struggling with insomnia lately.”
The steam core rumbled, and gears and linkages sprang into motion. Listening to her superior’s complaints, the driver couldn’t help but smile: “At least the city-state has been peaceful recently—no heretics, no monsters, no unfortunate souls trapped in the night. The night guards haven’t encountered any twisted sightings in the darkness for several consecutive days… There’s always sunshine after a storm, right?”
Vanna considered her subordinate’s comments, then slowly responded after some time, “True, the nights have been more tranquil lately than ever before. Even in the darkness that frequently envelops the lower city and sewers, there’s no longer any commotion.”
“Isn’t that a positive development?”
“…Certainly, it’s a positive development,” Vanna murmured softly, adjusting her position in the seat and closing her eyes. “I’ll take a brief nap; wake me when we arrive at the cathedral.”
“Understood.”
As her subordinate replied, Vanna already felt herself drifting into a light slumber, with the mechanical sounds of the car and the noise outside the window progressively fading away.
She was, indeed, quite exhausted, having been unable to rest well for many days.
The city-state’s order had been fully restored, and all the follow-up work was systematically nearing completion. The paperwork had been handled, and there were no issues with the reports for the cathedral or the various negotiations with city hall—behind this “smooth progress” lay days of fatigue.
After bidding farewell to the unique “visitor,” the Sea Mist, she could finally catch her breath.
At least before the Grand Storm Cathedral arrived in Pland and prior to meeting Pope Helena, she should have a few days to recuperate.
A gentle night breeze suddenly caressed her cheek, bringing with it a cool, invigorating scent and the sound of waves colliding with a ship’s hull.
Vanna’s eyes snapped open, and she found herself in an unfamiliar room.
Her surroundings included elegant, classical furniture, intricate tapestries from the previous century adorning the walls, dark-hued shelves and wine cabinets tucked in the corners, a thick woven carpet occupying the room’s center, and a carved coffee table and chairs atop the carpet. At that moment, she was seated in one of those chairs.
Vanna abruptly stood, assuming a defensive posture like a cautious animal, ready for anything around her.
The next instant, she spotted a window nearby—the window was wide open, and though it had been daylight when she dozed off, the scene beyond the opening was now enveloped in darkness. A chilly night wind blew into the room through the window, casting a cold, luminous glow over the windowsill. Within the glow, she could faintly discern the rolling sea in the distance and the glimmers of light upon the water that resembled liquid silver.
Vanna’s gaze was involuntarily drawn to this scene, and then, as if she had made a sudden realization, she rushed to the window and peered up at the sky outside.
An… incomprehensible entity appeared there.
It was a glowing, circular object reminiscent of the sun’s core, yet it was neither blinding nor searing. Instead, it resembled a radiant disc with a cool sensation, silently hovering in the sky while exuding a tranquil and serene aura.
Vanna gazed blankly at the peculiar light, and for a moment, she felt as though her thoughts had been lulled into a serene state by the radiance. After an indeterminate amount of time, she pondered sluggishly:
“What is that?”
“Could it be the cooled sun?”
“Where did the fissure in the night sky vanish to?”
“Where is this place?”
Then she glanced back at the unfamiliar room.
The exterior was a rolling sea, the room was strange, the sky beyond the window was eerie, and the bizarre celestial body… Given her recent experiences, the answer didn’t seem difficult to deduce.
But this occasion appeared different from the others; this time… she didn’t encounter that horrifying ghost captain.
Vanna thought as much, but as if to contradict her thoughts, the next moment, she suddenly sensed a presence drawing near.
“Knock, knock, knock.” Someone rapped on the door.
