Duncan had ignited a wildfire beneath the ocean depths that spread with an unforeseen and aggressive intensity. Initially, he had intended to kindle a controlled blaze at the fringe of the towering “pillar.” He anticipated a slow and manageable spread of the flame. But to his shock, what started as a tiny spark transformed into a vast, bright blaze in mere moments, illuminating the deep waters in its resplendent glow. The sheer peculiarity of witnessing a wildfire thrive beneath the immense pressure of the ocean, a place saturated with billions of tons of seawater, was perplexing and contrary to any logical understanding.
Many believed that entities of a supernatural or otherworldly nature acted as the most potent catalysts for spiritual flames. The tentacle of the ancient deity, with its transcendent properties, was no exception to this belief. Yet, despite this knowledge, the speed and intensity at which the flame consumed were startlingly ferocious.
It seemed as if an invisible force was bolstering the fire, making it more potent. Was it the unique marine surroundings that amplified its power? Or was the tentacle of the ancient deity actively aiding its progression?
Lines of concentration appeared on Duncan’s brow as he tried to interpret the flood of information relayed to him through the fire. This information was presented in disjointed bursts, punctuated by twisted sounds and interspersed with erratic flashes of light and shadow. These seemed to be the uncontrollable aftereffects from the disintegrating “tentacle.”
For most humans, even the faintest whisper from these beings could tip them over the edge into insanity. Yet, these chaotic signals were more of a nuisance than a threat for Duncan. He endeavored to filter out the relevant data amidst the cacophony. And as the distorted sounds began to wane, he was able to discern some coherent “voices.”
His eyes widened in shock beneath the water when he gazed upon the rapidly deteriorating tentacle of the ancient god, enveloped in the eerie green flame.
“LH-01? Navigator #1?” he exclaimed.
In the immediate aftermath of his query, a stifling silence ensued. It was so profound that it felt all-consuming. Amid this quiet, a faint and ethereal thought grazed his consciousness, whispering—
“Thank you, usurper of fire.”
Taken aback, Duncan’s mind raced, attempting to connect the dots between the unfolding mysteries. Lost in thought, and debating whether to further investigate this area or to venture deeper, his attention was suddenly captured by a fleeting glimmer in his peripheral sight.
Duncan’s attention was abruptly drawn to Ai, the dove that had often fluttered around him. The usually calm bird was now radiating a blinding burst of light. It reminded Duncan of a projector that had gone awry, with its fiery aura stuttering erratically. The dove, caught in distress, flapped its wings vigorously while emitting a series of disrupted, electronic-like cries, “Your… signal quality is compromised, please verify… your hardware linkage… to the remote server… awaiting response…”
Seeing Ai’s state, Duncan’s expression turned steely, and he signaled for the dove to return immediately. As Ai settled back, Duncan could see his “temporary body” deteriorating at a rapid pace, with internal flames visible through newly formed cracks.
Meanwhile, the “human-shaped” floating entities began showing similar signs of disintegration in the encompassing waters nearby. Countless humanoid forms crumbled into a dark sediment, cascading downward towards the shadowy “floating island” deep beneath.
With the flawed replica of the ancient deity consumed by the flames, the nearby makeshift human figures also crumbled away. Only the floating island, presumably the “original model,” remained unchanged. All else in these ocean depths was rapidly breaking down, returning to what seemed like its “natural state.”
Duncan quickly grasped the domino effect taking place around him. Then, he felt an abrupt sensation – like he was being “ejected” from this vessel, which was evidently no longer viable.
As the connection weakened, Duncan had a fleeting regretful thought, “It’s such a shame. I believed this marine-adapted body would serve multiple purposes, but it appears it was only good for a single use…”
Inside the cockpit, Duncan let out a sigh, mourning the loss of another “temporary body” while inspecting the submersible’s status.
The aftermath of the “pillar’s” collapse sent powerful currents their way, but they were fortunate that the submersible remained unscathed.
Suddenly, Agatha’s voice, thick with horror, pierced through, “What… what just happened?!”
She motioned towards the rapidly dimming oceanic depths. Here and there, sporadic green flares erupted, illuminating parts of a colossal submerged structure, making it look like a series of undersea explosions.
Outside the submersible, the ocean currents churned violently. The combined noise of the machinery working, interspersed with occasional thuds against the vessel, created a tense atmosphere.
It was clear that something monumental had unfolded below them.
“…I’ve uncovered the root cause of the disturbance in Frost,” Duncan began, shifting slightly to ensure Agatha was following his words closely. “Deep within the heart of the submerged floating island, believed to be the blueprint for the very creation of the world, lies an enormously vast tentacle of an ancient god. It’s an imperfect replica of the mysterious Nether Lord. Its mere presence has been altering the balance of this marine realm.” Duncan briefly looked over at Agatha, who was visibly on edge, thirsting for more details. “The spirit of the Frost Queen has been working tirelessly for the past five decades to keep this imperfect being in check. It’s been a long and arduous struggle.”
Agatha’s eyes widened in disbelief.
She had never anticipated that Captain Duncan’s exploratory venture through his avatar would yield such groundbreaking revelations. Words momentarily eluded her. Gathering her thoughts, she finally stammered, “Then… what transpired next?”
“It went up in flames,” Duncan stated with a matter-of-fact tone.
Agatha blinked, processing his response. “It… caught fire?”
Duncan nodded affirmatively, gesturing outside, “Did you not witness? The blaze that I kindled.”
Agatha shook her head, her mind racing, “It’s not that I misheard you. I did grasp your words, but… no, I didn’t truly grasp the gravity. I genuinely cannot fathom it. You mean to say… you simply set an ancient god on fire? Even if it’s just an imitation… you ignited it?”
Duncan, anticipating Agatha’s disbelief, took a deep breath. He struggled to articulate the complexity of the situation. After a moment’s contemplation, he offered, “To be honest, even I was taken aback. It proved to be more flammable than I had predicted.”
Agatha simply stared, at a loss for words.
After what felt like an eternity, Agatha finally managed to piece her thoughts together, “So, regarding the spirit of the Frost Queen… did you inadvertently ‘burn’ her too?”
Duncan shook his head reassuringly, “She was liberated. As to her whereabouts, I cannot say. We may cross paths with her once more. We had quite an enlightening conversation about her past, the ocean’s mysteries, and some… unsettling truths about our reality. Many of her revelations were game-changers.”
“Game-changers?” Agatha, still grappling with the magnitude of the prior revelation, tried to keep up, “What do you mean by ‘game-changers’?”
Duncan looked squarely at Agatha, his tone grave, “The kind that demands one to partake in rituals, offer prayers, and pen down their last wishes before learning. And then, afterward, undergo a thorough psychological assessment.” He continued with a faint smile, “I’ll share everything with you once we’re back on solid ground, and when you’re mentally prepared.”
Despite her role as a gatekeeper, accustomed to confronting innumerable challenges and wielding unparalleled mental resilience, Agatha could feel a deep unease settling within her upon hearing Duncan’s forewarning.
The gravity with which this “Captain” spoke, a man known to navigate even the complex terrains of subspace, indicated that he had unearthed something of immense magnitude within the desolate and chilling expanses of the deep sea.
Back on the Vanished, Duncan had made his way from the “private compartment” to the familiar surroundings of his captain’s chambers.
Perched at the corner of the navigational desk was the eerie goat head, its dark neck producing a soft mechanical sound as it shifted to face him. The dark gemstone-like eyes set within it focused intently on Duncan.
“Your name?” It queried in a direct manner.
“Duncan Abnomar,” he replied with a brief wave of his hand. Settling into his chair, he shifted his attention back to the goat head, “Did my absence seem prolonged?”
“You strayed beyond the customary bounds,” the goat head remarked, a hint of relief evident in its tone. “I sensed a fragment of your consciousness journeying to an extraordinarily remote location. A place so far-flung that even the Vanished found it challenging to maintain a connection. I hope you don’t misconstrue my concern; the very fate of this vast vessel hinges on the astute guidance of its captain…”
Duncan interrupted, “Your loyalty and concern are commendable. It was an extended yet fleeting voyage; there’s no cause for alarm. What’s Alice’s current status?”
“Miss Alice?” The goat head took a moment before responding, “She had been resting in her chambers. However, presently, she seems to be rushing in the direction of this room.”
Before it could provide any more details, the swift patter of feet was audible just outside the chamber door, soon accompanied by the unmistakable aura of Alice.
Before she could even knock, Duncan preempted, “Come in.”
Despite his prompt, two subsequent knocks echoed. The door then swung open, revealing the puppet-like Alice who, realizing she was slightly late in her response, emitted a soft “oh” before entering.
“Captain! Captain!” She raced towards Duncan, a sense of urgency in her eyes. Before he could formulate a response, she launched into her narration, “Something’s amiss! I’ve just awakened from a dream! I dreamt something!”
Duncan had planned to convey several crucial pieces of information to Alice, but her unexpected agitation caught him off guard, leading him to inquire with a creased brow, “A dream? What transpired in this dream?”
Alice hesitated, her voice imbued with a strange mix of enthusiasm and bewilderment, “I can’t remember the precise details Yet, I was left with this overpowering sensation of… capability, perhaps? It was reminiscent of your past descriptions… as though I had suddenly evolved, acquired cognitive abilities?”
