Fanna woke up from a strange and chaotic dream, realizing that it was still dark outside. The cold, pale light of the world's creation shone on the window sill, which was covered in deep sea runes, creating a peaceful and quiet scene.
However, the bizarre images from her dream remained vivid in her mind.
A ship, a large vessel engulfed in green ghostly flames, sailed in from the horizon where the sea met the sky. It crushed through the entire city of Plande like a massive mountain, and amidst the ghostly flames, countless cries and mournful songs roared together, as if they wanted to overturn the entire world.
At the same time the giant ship arrived, she saw a blazing sun rising from the depths of Plande. This was not the familiar sun bound by ancient runes, but rather a fierce celestial body like the "ancient sun" described by its followers. It rose from deep within the city, melting the earth, and all the people seemed to flow like wax figures on the streets.
The grand cathedral of the Deep Sea Church stood quietly at the center of this fiery hell. In her dream, she prayed toward the cathedral, hoping for guidance from the goddess of storms. Yet, all she received was the loud and meaningless ringing of bells, with no guidance coming her way...
Fanna sat up in bed, wearing her nightgown, and walked to the window. She glanced at the still calm city and the "world's creation" outside, but her inner turmoil only grew stronger.
After a moment, the young judge pulled her gaze away from the city and approached her dressing table. She casually opened a drawer—
Inside the drawer lay a curved ceremonial dagger, its blade adorned with faintly glowing runes that symbolized the Deep Sea Church, as if resonating with some mysterious power.
Fanna's gaze lingered on the flickering runes for several seconds before she pressed the blade against her palm, cutting a small wound. As blood seeped out, she placed her hand across her chest and softly recited the name of the storm goddess, seeking divine guidance.
However, for some reason, all she heard was the distant roar of phantom waves. The "spiritual sensing" state she could easily enter before was now unresponsive.
It felt as if an invisible curtain had suddenly descended around her, cutting off her connection to the storm goddess, Gormona.
Fanna's brow furrowed slightly.
It was rare for a believer to lose contact with their deity, but it wasn't impossible. The relationship between the subspace and the real world was complex and deep, beyond the understanding of ordinary people. Even the power of the gods could be temporarily affected by layers of subspace, the deep sea, and the spirit world. Additionally, the eternal turmoil and disputes between gods could lead to some believers suddenly being unable to hear their deity's voice in very rare cases.
But the storm goddess Gormona... should not be like this.
The boundless sea surrounded mortal civilization, and the power of the storm goddess spanned all dimensions, influencing the entire reality. All gods could potentially lose contact with the real world, even the god of death might leave loopholes like "resurrectors," but the storm goddess... was different.
This was one of the reasons the Deep Sea Church became the most powerful church on the boundless sea.
Was the problem with her?
Fanna naturally began to doubt her own state. However, looking at her palm, she saw that the wound she had just made was already healing quickly.
The blessing from the goddess was still there, taking effect without any delay.
Fanna recalled the noisy and bizarre nightmare, as well as the ominous signs she had seen over the past few days.
There must be a connection between all of this.
The ghost ship engulfed in green flames... ghost ship...
Fanna quickly recalled and compared her knowledge of the mysterious, and her expression suddenly became serious.
She wasn't an expert in navigation and rarely encountered the absurd tales shared among superstitious sailors, but even in the orthodox church texts, there was a ghost ship that held a special place.
It was an ominous ship that returned from the subspace, captained by the terrifying captain Duncan, who had caused the Thirteen Islands of Viserland to be swallowed by a collapsing border a century ago.
Fanna suddenly stood up from the dressing table, but then remembered— it was late at night, and like any other library, the cathedral's archives were closed at night.
Moreover, for safety reasons, it was best not to discuss anything related to the "omen dream" within hours of its conclusion. If this dream truly pointed to the "Captain Duncan," he could very well sense the mortal's discussion about him through the connection established by the dream.
After all, he was a "ghost" capable of returning from subspace.
The safest course of action now was to wait patiently until the sun regained its dominance in the world, allowing the connection established by the dream to fade away before going to the archives to find relevant information or consulting with the archbishop about these ominous signs.
Regardless, if these omen dreams truly pointed to that "Captain Duncan," warning her that the legendary ship Lost Homeland was eyeing Plande, then as the protector of the city, she must do everything possible to prevent that terrifying ghost captain from landing...
...
A tall, thin shadow quickly moved through the deserted streets of the lower city, its elongated figure casting a fleeting outline under the gas lamps.
A completely unfamiliar city, entirely strange buildings, vague memories in his mind, and the eerie quiet of a civilian neighborhood during curfew.
Yet, Duncan felt particularly pleased as he walked through this shabby alley.
He had succeeded— not only had he completed a second journey into the spirit world, but he had also successfully controlled a body to come to the surface, to the ground of Plande.
He was now in contact with the civilization of this world, observing the architecture and technology of this era with his own eyes.
And he was using a complete body— one that appeared normal on the outside, allowing him to carry out his actions conveniently.
To be honest, the health of this body wasn't great either. Even though he could ignore most of the body's ailments while in the spirit world, Duncan could still feel its subhealthy condition. But he had no complaints, even found it natural.
After all, based on these two experiences, the spirit world journey occupied a corpse for a certain period— could a lively body be a corpse?
A distant dog barking echoed from the end of the street, and Duncan cautiously slowed his steps, hiding in the shadows between buildings.
He didn't know if it was a patrolling dog held by a church guardian, but being cautious never hurt.
Above the nearby buildings, massive pipe structures crossed over the low houses, casting intermittent shadows with the light from the "pale scars." Occasionally, steam leaked from some pipe valves, creating a hazy mist in the night.
The barking faded away.
Duncan stepped out from his hiding place, glanced around the street for any movement, and gently calmed the pigeon, Ai Yi, that was moving on his shoulder before heading toward the street across from him, following his memory.
Between a row of low two or three-story buildings, there was an old door, above which hung a dirty sign. The walls on either side showed dusty and neglected windows— it was a shop, looking somewhat sizable but clearly lacking care, with poor business.
This was where the fragments of memory in his mind had guided Duncan.
He approached the old door, looked up at the sign, and could barely make out a line of letters in the dark:
"Ron’s Antique Shop," Duncan murmured, "a succinct name..."
After saying that, he began searching at the door. Since his memory was not very clear, he rummaged for a while before finding a spare key hidden on a hook beneath the windowsill.
The original owner of this body hadn’t carried the key with him, nor did he have anything to identify himself or find this antique shop, seemingly due to the caution of a seasoned cultist— but for a ghost captain who could seize memories, such superficial caution was meaningless.
Duncan opened the door to Ron's Antique Shop, quickly stepped inside, and shut the door behind him.
The wooden door slammed shut, but the sound didn’t travel far into the night. The sign hanging above the door tilted slightly with the vibration, and the letters on the sign began to shift in the pale, cold night— in the blink of an eye, new words appeared on the wooden board—
"Duncan's Antique Shop."
(End of Chapter)