The twilight bells and whistles, representing the day-night cycle, echoed faintly through the deep, damp sewers hiding the cultists resting in the forgotten rooms of this underground labyrinth.
One of them was seriously ill, and now he was going to die in this dimly lit underworld.
“He’s still alive…” said one of the cultists hesitantly. Then he glanced at the “compatriot” lying on the ground and saw that the other’s eyes were half open and half closed without any focus.
“He’s only alive for now,” said another cultist in a low voice, “and the twilight bell has rung. He cannot die in this room. The Lord’s patronage will bless him with a peaceful slumber in the darkness.”
The man lying on the sheet twitched his fingers twice over the comment – obviously aware of his own health condition. He did not want to die like this, but death had already clung onto his shadow, and for the time being, his dear “fellow sunmen” considered him a “hidden danger” worthy of removing from the shelter.
An extremely oppressive silence hung in the air due to this difficult decision. But after a unknown amount of time, the black-robed man who had cursed the Storm Church before suddenly broke the silence: “Let’s wait a bit. At least…. a person won’t change right away after their breathing stops.”
“…… Then we will wait,” the low-voiced black-robed disciple says after glancing at the struggling, dying sunmen. “But why did he suddenly fall ill? Are you sure this is normal?”
“I know him… He runs an antique shop in the lower sector of the city. Its only counterfeits though so his business isn’t doing well,” said a believer next to him who had never spoken much. “He was already sick before this so he’s likely having a relapse from spending so much time with us in the sewers. The shock today is probably what worsened it.”
The black-robed believer with a low voice finally relaxed a little after hearing the explanation. Although he was not a noble “priest” like the emissary, he did have more experience from being a converted for many years, effectively making him more or less an “expert” who knew a lot of occult knowledge. Like how there would always be hidden dangers that came with a failed ceremony like today. The only thing he didn’t know was who had become a “carrier” of said danger.
If it weren’t for the restraining notion of “all the people of the sun are siblings” – plus there were still a few fierce believers around him watching – he would have thrown this unlucky sick guy into the darkness outside already.
After a long silence, the black-robed believer suddenly made a move and brought out a pale golden amulet from his pocket. He placed the item onto the chest of the dying “compatriot”.
“You are…” a believer next to him spoke curiously.
“I got this amulet from the Emissary at great cost,” he said in a sincere voice, “may the shining grace of the Lord protect our siblings and him from the erosion of darkness.”
The two believers next to him immediately applauded. Then with reverence, they started to chant while pumping their fist against the chest: “All who worship the sun are brothers and sisters….”
……
After the sun had completely fallen below sea level, the starless and moonless sky once again appeared before Duncan. There’s still the pale crack sweeping across the horizon, illuminating the Boundless Sea with its cold glow while the Vanished sail along the ocean.
He sighed at this picture while standing at the aft.
No matter how many times he searched, he could not find the stars beyond the pale glow.
But compared to the last time he saw this starless night though; his mood did feel much better. He’s adapting to life in this strange world, and he’s gotten the pleasure of tasting the delicious fish he caught.
As an optimistic man, and any slight improvement in his life was something to be happy about—not to mention that there were more gifts of nature than he had imagined.
At this pace, even if he could not establish a stable connection with land in the meantime, he could at least improve the living conditions on this ship.
During his musing, he turned to face the dove roosting on his shoulder and casually spoke in a playful voice: “You say… wouldn’t it be easier if I did something befitting of a pirate captain? For example, find a busy shipping route and do some piracy….”
The pigeon tilted its head, and the two beady red eyes browsed around without focus: “Doesn’t sound like it, doesn’t sound like it, doesn’t sound like it….”
“Guess you’re right. It’s not in my character,” Duncan smiled, “and doing it is not as easy as saying it. At the very least, I need to find a shipping route first.”
He had no idea how far the Vanished had drifted from the coasts of the mainland. Sure, they did come across the White Oak carrying Alice before, but Duncan was certain that’s a one-off. There’s no way shipping an anomaly was something of a daily occurrence.
Exactly then, a voice suddenly came from the side and interrupted Duncan’s train of thoughts: “Captain, are we going to pirate other ships?”
Duncan followed the sound and was met with Alice sitting on a high plank staring curiously at himself.
In the pale and scarred glow of the sky, the Gothic doll in the black dress gave off an air of serene calm found only in those classical paintings of old depicting nobilities.
This took Duncan by surprise for a moment. After a few “real-life moments” of hectic running around, he had almost forgotten how elegant this doll could be when idly sitting in one spot. For a second, he was awed by her beauty and air.
Alice didn’t know what the captain was thinking of course and asked curiously again, “Captain, are we going to pirate other ships?”
Without question, this sentence did a lot of damage to her image.
“Do you like piracy?” Duncan smirked.
“No,” Alice shook her head, “it sounds boring.”
“But you were ‘pirated’ by me to get on the ship,” he reminded her.
“…… True,” Alice thought for a moment, nodded, and then asked again, “So are we going to be pirates now?”
“No,” Duncan waved his hand and unhurriedly walked toward his personal quarter, “I also find piracy rather uninteresting. Taking a stroll is more suitable as an after-dinner exercise in comparison.”
Duncan returned to the captain’s room alone and briefly commanded the goat head to take the helm using his psychic.
He had already decided to take a second spirit walk tonight.
But unlike the last time, he will test this ability with the dove as company.
A cluster of green sparks jumped around Duncan’s fingertips once he summoned the ghost fire. At the same time this occurred, the bird who was wandering around the table disappeared and reappeared around his shoulder.
Feeling the kind of connection between Ai and himself, Duncan slowly calmed his breathing and remembered the “feeling” he had when activating the brass compass – he was going to communicate with the dove using this method.
The ethereal green flame turned into a thin line and wrapped around Ai’s wings following his will, and the next second, the white dove suddenly burst into a ball of fire!
The feathers of the white dove turned into her illusory form following the transformation, rising and flapping like a miniature phoenix while constantly forming and reforming without a set body. In the meantime, the compass hanging around Ai’s chest also activated, “snapping” the glass lid open while the pointed dial spun wildly as numerous occult runes shimmered into the air. Then, like the first time, the needle abruptly stopped, pointing straight towards a specific direction.
The surrounding scene disintegrated in the next second, and the familiar dark tunneling space appeared in Duncan’s view that was promptly accompanied by the mysterious streams of lights. He needed no instructions, allowing his heart to look for the next “target” suitable for contact.
Suddenly, his awareness was attracted to one of the clusters of starlight in the distance.
He didn’t know if that was the “Captain Duncan’s intuition” mentioned by the goat head, but he was going to follow that feeling since it felt right. No matter who was behind the starlight, at least for now, the individual has become fated to meet him, the great Captain Duncan.
……
In the abandoned sewers on the edge of the city-state of Pland, the sun god cultists who had luckily escaped from the church’s guardians wordlessly rested in their hideout.
The above-ground world has fallen into a deep slumber, and the underground world has only a faint cluster of lights sheltering the abandoned. No matter how ferocious and vile they deem to appear on the outside, they’re still human, meaning they’re going to be nervous and terrified by the darkness so long as the sun doesn’t rises.
Finally, under this oppressive and difficult mood, the dying companion among their group had breathed his last breath.
“May the sun continue to shine on your soul in the darkness,” said the black-robed disciple with a low voice. Then waving his hand to signal the others, “Take him…”
Unfortunately, his words stopped there as he spluttered to gather his wits.
In front of everyone’s eyes, the corpse without signs of life began to breathe again.
