In Alice’s mind, the world’s reality was experienced in a unique manner compared to most people. For her, the world had always been like a dynamic painting where the rules of reality twisted and turned differently. This unusual way of perceiving the world was an inherent part of her, a silent, ever-present companion that had been concealed from the world until now.
Yet, Alice had not grasped the full extent of its significance.
The tale of Alice’s supernatural exploits during the back alley conflict had reached Duncan, courtesy of Vanna. She described an array of surreal events, from Alice identifying hidden enemies via spectral “floating lines” to the transformation of a fleeing cultist into a brittle figure resembling shattered porcelain. Duncan was left in awe, grappling with the reality of what he’d just heard.
As the narrative unfolded, all eyes were drawn to Alice, now the central figure in this unfolding story. Every move she made, every reaction she exhibited, was closely observed and analyzed.
“So… it seems none of you can see these ‘lines’…” Alice’s realization dawned on her slowly, her voice carrying a note of genuine surprise. As she scratched her head in confusion, her wide eyes twinkled with wonder, “I simply assumed everyone could see them since these lines ensnare everyone’s head and limbs…”
With a serious expression carved on his face, Duncan stared intently into Alice’s eyes and asked for further clarification, “Just to make sure, these ‘lines’ you see, they surround everyone, right?”
“Yes, they do. But you’re an exception, Captain,” Alice replied quickly, her voice brimming with confidence.
Duncan fell silent, processing her response, before posing another question, “Do you mean to say that these ‘lines’ were absent in my original form, or is it that my current form lacks them?”
“It’s your current form,” Alice replied truthfully, adding, “and you also didn’t have them when we were in Pland…”
Duncan acknowledged her explanation with a nod, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts.
In Alice’s peculiar perception of the world, these spectral “lines” surrounded everyone except him, and even the forms he had assumed in the past were devoid of these lines. Could these “lines” be linked to something more profound than physical bodies? Could they represent an individual’s soul or perhaps their unique personality? Under certain circumstances, Alice could “grasp” these lines, using them as a tool to control or attack her enemies. But what was the origin of this supernatural ability? Was it an innate skill she had as Anomaly 099, a secret she had managed to hide until now, or was it a new development following her alliance with the Vanished?
While he pondered over these thoughts, Duncan continued to watch Alice intently. His unwavering stare began to unsettle even the usually unfazed Alice. She squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze, expressing her unease, “Captain… you’re staring at me too hard… it’s making me anxious.”
Caught off guard by her complaint, Duncan immediately softened his gaze, a hint of embarrassment washing over his face. He then turned to Vanna, voicing his thoughts, “As far as I understand, Alice’s ‘official designation’ has now been updated to Anomaly 099 Doll, correct?”
Vanna acknowledged Duncan’s observation with a nod, attempting to follow the trajectory of his thoughts. “Are you suggesting that Alice’s abilities have evolved in line with this recent change?” she asked, curiosity piqued.
“Perhaps…” Duncan’s voice was calm and measured as he explained his hypothesis, “The Coffin and the Doll might have inherently different powers. The Coffin symbolized death, embodying a raw, brutal force capable of beheading. On the other hand, the Doll, resembling a human figure, appears to be linked with the ability to manipulate humanoid entities. Originally, Alice was merely the ‘resident’ of the Coffin, hence the ‘composite’ nature of Anomaly 099 predominantly displayed the Coffin’s characteristics. But now, the Doll has become the leading component of Anomaly 099, and her inherent abilities have emerged.”
“Different powers harbored within the Coffin and the Doll…” Morris, who had been unusually silent till now, echoed the theory, “That does sound like a plausible explanation.”
A wave of emotion washed over Duncan as he mulled over their shared hypothesis.
He had always thought that Anomaly 099’s immense power had diminished. After Alice’s transformation from her wooden box form, she seemed to have regressed into an eerily animated, mobile doll, displaying both frailty and timidity. He hadn’t anticipated that she would manifest such a supernatural ability. It validated her place within the top 100, even though she was arguably weaker than the rest of the Vanished.
Throughout this discussion, Alice, true to her simple-minded doll nature, didn’t provide much input. She quietly listened in, occasionally looking around. Gradually, she started to understand the gravity of her situation. A look of concern clouded her features, and she asked Duncan in a hesitant tone, “…Captain, have I done something wrong?”
“Not at all, you did well,” Duncan reassured her, shaking his head. “You displayed courage and defended yourself aptly. Cultists are never innocents.”
Feeling somewhat relieved but still unsure, Alice raised her hand in a hesitant gesture, “Is… is my ability evil?”
Duncan remained silent for a long while, observing the doll in contemplation. Eventually, he broke into a smile, “It’s a gift.”
Alice looked perplexed.
“Can you control it?” Duncan questioned further.
“Yes, I can,” Alice responded, nodding and making a waving motion with her hand, “It’s quite easy, actually.”
“In that case, it indeed is a gift,” Duncan’s smile broadened, “Power itself isn’t evil. Losing control of it is what causes chaos. Now, you’re capable of contributing even more, Alice.”
Upon hearing this, Alice’s face brightened up with a joyous smile, her body swinging back and forth in excitement, “That’s great! Seeing everyone so serious, I thought something terrible had happened…”
To calm her down, Duncan gently patted Alice’s hair, careful not to unseat her head due to her exuberant movements.
However, despite the calming exterior, his thoughts were anything but at peace.
While Duncan now had a better understanding of Alice’s abilities and had developed a preliminary theory about the symbolism of the “Doll and Coffin”, he was well aware that he had barely scratched the surface of the mysteries she embodied. If anything, his newfound understanding only highlighted the depth of the secrets that the doll, Alice, kept hidden.
Alice had been his companion for a considerable time. He had become accustomed to her bubbly demeanor aboard the ship and her innocuous antics as she scurried around him throughout the day. However, before her role as the cook for the Vanished, she was known as Anomaly 099, a formidable entity that had arisen from the frosty depths after the Frost Queen’s fall.
Fundamentally, she shared her origins with the grotesque and distorted “copies”.
Yet, she differed significantly from any other copy he had met thus far, and he couldn’t help but think that this difference wasn’t merely a random occurrence.
A chilling statement made by the cultist who had appeared following the Seagull’s explosion resonated in his mind—
“If it wasn’t for that queen…”
Shaking off the swirling thoughts that threatened to consume his focus, Duncan looked up at Vanna and expressed his conclusions.
“The incidents tonight suggest that the ‘copies’ that infest the city are indeed the handiwork of the cultists. They are not only working in the shadows, but also clandestinely observing the copies they dispatch into the city. It’s as if they’re collecting some form of data.”
Drawing from her past experiences, Vanna agreed, “They seem to be laying the groundwork for a larger-scale operation. The copies currently in the city are likely just the initial phase, and the outbreak on Dagger Island might be a more expansive testing ground. They even attempted to transport the contamination from Dagger Island to Frost’s main island. Though we managed to intercept their operation, it’s a clear indication that their plan is reaching a critical stage.”
“There’s no need to worry, I’ll step in when the time is right. But first, we need to pinpoint their base,” Duncan stated nonchalantly, “Simply eliminating a few cultists or priests or destroying a handful of meeting points won’t be enough. Our experiences in Pland have already proven that.”
As he spoke, he lifted his gaze, peering through the narrow opening between his bandages and the grimy window beside him. His eyes scanned the snow-covered rooftops and eaves of the city of Frost.
“…Where are you hiding?”
With these words, the wind whipped up into a furious gale, and a new shower of snowflakes began to fall. The streets in the distance became blurred as they were hidden behind a curtain of snow. Yet, the darkness couldn’t prevail forever. As the first light of dawn began to rise, the remnants of the glowing fracture in the sky withdrew, giving way to the warm, golden-red hues of sunrise that once again bathed the island.
The formidable, heavy iron gate of the cemetery creaked in protest as it was forced open. The elderly caretaker, wrapped tightly in a heavy-duty coat, hung the latch used to secure the gate on the surrounding fence. He took a moment to survey the cityscape before him.
A thick layer of snow had draped over the entirety of the visible surroundings. The far-off streets had blurred into indistinct outlines beneath the icy cover, transforming into an expansive landscape of pristine white.
Despite the snowy blanketing, the city was far from dormant. Pipes bristling above the city streets expelled plumes of white mist as the thermal energy produced by the steam core was distributed to key locations. This effectively melted the accumulated ice and snow clogging the vital hubs of the pipe network and power stations. Simultaneously, hefty snow removal machinery had been deployed. With their deep grumbles and plumes of thick smoke, these machines plowed down the streets, clearing crucial transit pathways.
Following their recent visitor’s departure, the cemetery had returned to its customary tranquil state, free of any abnormal incidents. However, neither the caretaker nor the church-appointed guardians had relaxed their vigilance.
In the later part of the night, an “urgent message” had arrived via the high-pressure steam pipes at the caretaker’s cabin. The message had been dispatched from City Hall and was peculiar in its content—it issued a call for an elevated state of vigilance among all city guardians yet offered no explanation for the increased alert level.
After receiving some confidential information shortly afterward, Agatha sent out a small team to Fireplace Street. Unfortunately, there was yet to be any news from the dispatched guardians.
The wind and snow had only grown more severe in the latter half of the night. The violent gusts and tumultuous swirls of snowflakes seemed to be an ominous harbinger of some impending event.
“Damned weather…” The old caretaker grumbled under his breath, pulling his coat even more snugly around him.
