Morris was visibly consumed by an intense desire to uncover the truth. For him, the cult members that the average person viewed with fear and trepidation seemed more like an abundant source of data and potential research subjects.
“The real challenge,” Vanna articulated, edging away from Morris whose enthusiasm was palpable, “is figuring out how to extract those Annihilators—who delve into the dream of the Nameless—from the tangible world. I plan to reach out to the church tomorrow. We need to see if we can enhance our surveillance and capture efforts against the Annihilators across different city-states. Given their increased activities within the dream of the Nameless, coupled with their coordinated command and shared intelligence, it’s imperative.”
Morris, showing his agreement with a nod, added, “I’ll make sure to remind those at the academy as well… though, it’s likely they’re already well aware.”
As they were strategizing about how to effectively eliminate the cultists from the real world, Lucretia, who had been lost in thought, suddenly addressed Shirley and Dog, “In the dream of the Nameless, do you think it’s possible to encounter that cultist we came across before?”
Dog responded with a shake of his head, “That depends on us being in the vicinity and whether the individual is brave enough to venture into the dream of the Nameless once more. Moreover, Shirley and I inflicted significant injuries on that Annihilation Cultist during our last encounter. While the wounds didn’t affect his physical form in the real world, his spirit suffered considerable damage and is unlikely to recover quickly.”
Absorbing Dog’s words, Lucretia appeared to be deep in thought, possibly considering their next steps.
As this conversation unfolded, the day was drawing to a close outside. The sun dipped below the skyline, casting a reddish hue over the city that blended with the golden light reflecting off the distant ocean, creating a picturesque twilight scene.
Nina’s attention was drawn to the changing light outside the window, prompting her to remark softly, “It’s getting dark again…”
Her observation momentarily pulled Duncan from his contemplations. He stood and walked towards the window, gazing out at the street in silence.
Outside, the “truth guardians” from the Truth Academy were gearing up for their shift change. At a nearby security post, a group of guards engaged in conversation with a peace officer, marking the transition between day and night in the city.
Today, the presence of security personnel in the streets was noticeably greater, with the number of guards having doubled. Among them were members of the clergy, distinguishable by their higher rank and markedly superior equipment, suggesting they were elite forces possibly dispatched from the central university of the city-state.
As the day waned, a propaganda vehicle made its way through the streets, broadcasting a message that urged residents to conclude their outdoor activities and return to their homes before the gas lamps across the city were ignited. This was in light of the curfew being enforced an hour earlier than usual tonight. The broadcasts were persistent, advising that anyone unable to reach their home in time should seek assistance at the nearest guard post without delay. There, personnel from the academy and vehicles stood ready to escort them home at the earliest opportunity.
Elsewhere in the district, the grand spire of the clock tower, caught in the mingling lights of the setting sun and the early twilight, shone with a golden-red brilliance. This illumination lent the tower a shimmering, crystalline appearance. Massive steam pipes extended from its structure, releasing gentle puffs of steam as they preheated in anticipation of sounding the “Evening Bell.”
Despite the lack of any official emergency declaration from the city-state authorities or the academy, several subtle indicators pointed to a palpable shift in the atmosphere for those attuned to such nuances.
As Duncan stared out the window, Vanna joined him, her voice low, “They’re bracing for whatever tonight might bring. Yet, there’s no concrete reason to believe the dream of the Nameless will manifest again tonight…”
Shaking his head, Duncan expressed his concerns, “It’s unclear what measures they’ve put in place, or even if such measures will prove effective. Our understanding of how that ‘dream’ functions remains virtually non-existent, save for the suspicion it’s somehow connected to a trait inherent to the elven race. We’re powerless to assist in this matter.”
Vanna responded with a hint of gravity in her voice, “We, too, face numerous challenges. Should the dream of the Nameless occur again, its consequences are unpredictable—we may find ourselves scattered throughout the dream once more, possibly emerging in locations different from before, facing adversaries, or even directly entering regions known as ‘Erosion Zones.'”
In the silence that followed, Duncan turned to face the room, his gaze sweeping over the assembled group.
The room was filled with people, many of whom were looking expectantly at him.
After a brief pause, Duncan raised his hand, palm facing upward. A spectral, ghostly green flame enveloped him, transforming his figure into a fiery, ethereal silhouette. All eyes were on his palm, where the spirit fire gathered, intensifying into the most vibrant and animated flame present.
Holding this ethereal flame, which emitted a soft crackling sound, Duncan invited, “Come, touch this flame.”
The reaction among those in the living room was mixed, with many displaying a mixture of shock and hesitation at his request.
The crew was no stranger to the captain’s unique flame, having interacted with his spirit fire on numerous occasions, each time experiencing its warmth to varying extents. Yet, there’s an inherent instinct that makes one wary of fire, a primal caution that’s hard to shake off, especially when faced with a flame that’s more vibrant and intense than the gentle, soothing fires they were accustomed to on the Vanished. This particular liveliness of the flame instilled a subconscious apprehension in them.
Nina, however, was the first to overcome this hesitance; her expression was one of eager anticipation as she looked up at Duncan, whom she affectionately referred to as “Uncle Duncan.” Her usual radiant smile lit up her face as she bravely stepped forward.
With a delicate gesture, she reached out and lightly touched the flame resting in Duncan’s palm with her fingertip. The flame danced around her finger like liquid, gently enveloping it before receding without causing harm.
“It’s warm,” Nina exclaimed with a laugh, her eyes sparkling with delight. She then turned to Shirley, waving her over with a grin, “Your turn!”
Shirley, with a hint of reluctance in her step and a murmur under her breath, made her way forward. “Got it, got it…” she muttered, extending her hand toward the flame while reassuring herself, “The captain won’t harm me anyway…”
Duncan gave Shirley a reassuring nod, his gentle demeanor encouraging her. Then he turned his attention to Dog, reminding him, “Dog needs to as well.”
Dog, who had initially seemed ready to distance himself from the situation, suddenly looked back at the flame. His eyes betrayed a genuine fear, a rare emotion for him to display openly. “I… do I really have to?” he asked, his voice tinged with apprehension.
“Yes,” Duncan affirmed, locking eyes with the shadow demon. His tone was serious, yet reassuring. “Don’t worry, it’s just a harmless temporary mark. Unless I command it, this flame won’t harm you.”
Despite Duncan’s reassurance, Dog appeared to remain uneasy. “I…” he started, his hesitation palpable.
Before Dog could express any further doubts, Duncan acted swiftly. He flipped his hand and placed it atop Dog’s head, rubbing it vigorously against the rough texture of his skull.
The spectral green flame cascaded down, enveloping Dog in its ghostly glow as it flickered and flowed around his skeletal form. Dog’s reaction was instantaneous; he shivered, emitting a surprised yelp, “Hey, shit…”—a reaction that spoke volumes of his surprise and discomfort.
Unfazed by Dog’s expletive, Duncan simply continued, his attention now turning to the others in the room, ready to see their reactions and possibly invite them to experience the flame.
Vanna and Morris joined the group as well, each of them offering a prayer to their respective gods. With solemn faces, they approached and lightly touched the flame that the captain held in his hand.
Now, all eyes turned to the last participant.
“Lucy,” Duncan said, his voice steady as he looked at the woman known as the “Sea Witch” who stood a short distance away. “There’s no need to worry. This flame is a unique ‘mark’—should the dream sent by the Nameless once more visit you, the energy within this mark could offer you protection.”
“I understand,” Lucretia replied quietly. Her gaze was laden with a mixture of emotions as she lifted her eyes to meet those of her father, who appeared to her within the ethereal blaze of the flame, and then to the vibrant, leaping fire itself. After a brief moment of hesitation, she moved closer, gradually reaching out her hand towards Duncan, “Is this the essence of subspace?”
“It’s my own power,” Duncan responded, his gaze unwavering.
Taking a deep breath for courage, Lucretia then bravely moved her hand to touch the flame.
Contrary to what she might have feared, there was no sensation of pain or burning, nor did she experience any corrosive effect or psychological disturbance. Instead, she was enveloped in a gentle warmth that brought her comfort and a sense of safety.
A transient gleam of ghostly green light flickered through Lucretia’s eyes.
After this moment, the “Sea Witch” quickly turned and strode to a corner of the room, where she picked up a large rabbit doll that had been lying there. She returned to Duncan, holding the doll, which until now had seemed lifeless. As it began to squirm in Lucretia’s grasp, the doll—stuffed with cotton and now seemingly imbued with the frightened voice of a young girl—cried out, “Mistress, what are you doing! Rabbi is just a rabbit, Rabbi is just a…”
“Be quiet,” Lucretia commanded, applying pressure to the back of the rabbit doll with a firm grip. This action abruptly silenced the eerie and peculiar toy. She then extended it towards her father, “Papa, please mark Rabbi as well.”
Initially, Duncan was taken aback, unsure of why Lucretia was presenting the stuffed rabbit to him, only forming a rough idea of her intentions. “Do you wish to include this toy in the Nameless One’s Dream?” he inquired, intrigued by her unusual request.
“Rabbi has the ability to navigate dreams—it experiences them,” Lucretia explained. “I’m curious to see if it gets drawn into the dream when the influence of the Nameless expands. While the Bright Star was moored at the harbor, Rabbi mentioned it didn’t detect anything odd in the city. This could be because the harbor is too distant from where the dream phenomena originated, or it might be that Rabbi is minimally affected by your abilities.”
Once more, the rabbit doll began to squirm, its small voice breaking the silence: “Rabbi knew she shouldn’t have come…”
With a decisive motion, Lucretia pressed the doll against Duncan’s hand, transferring responsibility to him.
Duncan was momentarily speechless. He couldn’t help feeling as though he’d been turned into a tool for blessing… certainly not what he had anticipated.
Nevertheless, he had finished setting everything up for their foray into the dream world. Now, all that remained was to wait and see if the dream sent by the Nameless would manifest tonight and to test his numerous theories and strategies within the dream state.
Just then, the sound of footsteps approached from the direction of the living room door, and Alice and Luni came into Duncan’s line of sight, pushing a dinner cart.
“Dinner time!” Alice announced with a bright smile, seemingly unaware of the tense atmosphere that had filled the room just moments before. “Should we have dinner in the dining room, or would you prefer to eat here?”
