In the end, Duncan still couldn't figure out what "offspring" really was. The goat-headed figure was vague about this topic, perhaps because it didn't know much about these ancient beings that existed on the edge of civilization. Duncan could only gather a little understanding from the limited clues he had—offspring were products of ancient times and held a deep hatred for the modern world. They possessed strange and dangerous powers, lurking in the shadows. Except for the offspring of the sun, other "offspring" rarely appeared in civilized areas, instead threatening the safety of explorers in the fringes.
Among all this information, there was one particularly concerning detail: the offspring of the sun seemed capable of disguising themselves as humans—only the extraordinary members of the church could distinguish the disguised offspring from ordinary people.
Duncan thought about the recent changes in the city-state of Prand, particularly the "sun worshippers" who had suddenly become active after years of being low-key. Was the cult's sudden activity ordered by the "offspring"? What were those ancient and strange beings plotting against the city-state of Prand?
Standing at the edge of the deck of the Lost Homeland, Duncan gazed for a long time at the turbulent sea below.
There were also offspring in the deep sea, different from the offspring of the sun. These ancient beings threatened the safety of the sailing fleets between the city-states. Duncan felt both wary and curious about these deep-sea creatures.
He believed that even though he had never dealt with them directly, as long as the Lost Homeland was still drifting on the sea, he would eventually encounter these strange beings. It was better to prepare in advance.
Whether it was gathering information, further mastering his own powers, or exploring the potential of the Lost Homeland, he was planning for the future.
Of course, he wasn't afraid of the dangers lurking in the deep sea—after all, he had been drifting on this ship for so long. He could guess how many strange things were in the deep sea. The offspring were just one of countless odd threats. As the captain of the Lost Homeland, there were many things he needed to be cautious about.
After thinking for a long time on the deck, he realized that what he needed to worry about most was whether his hard-earned "supply line" would be affected—would those deep-sea offspring disrupt his fishing?
Although Dove Ai had the ability to transport supplies, it was still uncertain how much it could carry and how reliable it was. Moreover, the city-state of Prand was orderly, and the supplies brought to the ship had to be bought with money, so it was unclear when this supply line would come in handy.
Adding to that was the rich catch from his last fishing trip still fresh in his mind. Duncan knew that improving the living conditions on the Lost Homeland ultimately relied on nature's gifts.
Now, those "offspring" had become a hidden danger—they might affect nature's gifts.
Duncan felt a bit troubled; he just hoped that the strange things in the sea wouldn't interfere with his fishing.
...
Bright gas lamps illuminated the underground facilities of the church, dispelling the darkness. The deep-sea runes carved in the long corridor radiated a reassuring power. The lines symbolizing waves and coastlines connected with each other, as if sketching an invisible giant net, enveloping the entire underground structure in a sacred and tranquil atmosphere.
Vanna walked through the underground sanctuary of the church. This sacred and quiet place gradually calmed her somewhat restless heart.
The goddess of storms, who wielded the strongest power over the boundless sea, was not only a symbol of "storms" and fury; this ancient deity also held the power of tranquility and sealing.
Just like the sea, which has two sides—calm and storm—these aspects always coexist. The goddess's authority was the same—beneath the cathedral symbolized the "mirror of the storm."
Many deities in this world had such dual characteristics. The god of death held the power of life, while the god of wisdom could also strip away reason, leading to madness. Ordinary people might not fully understand this, but as a high-ranking cleric, Vanna was well-versed in this knowledge.
She also knew that the dual characteristics of many deities had given rise to some controversial, even heretical ideas. Some scholars even believed that the entire world was also dual in nature—in some dimension, there existed a "wasteland" that mirrored the sea and land, a vast expanse of dry land with a few rivers and oases scattered in the arid landscape. This wasteland even had a civilization that mirrored reality, reflecting everything in the real world...
These absurd speculations, entirely based on imagination, were not recognized. Even the well-known open-minded Bishop Valentin of the city-state of Prand scoffed at such ideas—
In the old man's words, the subspace beneath this world was already enough to give people headaches; some folk theologians shouldn't keep adding things below the subspace, right?
Vanna suddenly shook her head, pulling her uncontrolled thoughts back in.
In the tranquil underground of the cathedral, it was easy for one's thoughts to scatter uncontrollably. This was because the "mirror of the storm" brought an overly peaceful psychological suggestion. The sense of security provided by the goddess's sanctuary could greatly weaken a mortal's mental barriers. This effect was invisible yet powerful, even someone as rigorously trained as Vanna could not escape it.
But on the other hand, this special environment had its unique uses.
For example, it could make some fanatical and insane cultists speak.
Vanna stopped at the end of the corridor in the underground sanctuary, where several doors led to different "interrogation rooms," and a statue of the storm goddess stood quietly in the hallway between the doors.
This statue was different from the one above ground— the one above had its arms open, as if welcoming worshippers, surrounded by endless majesty, while the statue underground had its hands clasped in front of its chest, serene and gentle, like a girl listening attentively.
Regardless of which statue it was, both had their faces covered with a light veil—symbolizing the unknowability of the divine.
This statue of the listening goddess with clasped hands represented another aspect of the storm goddess: the tranquil sea maiden.
She suppressed the waters below sea level, protecting the peace of the underground world of the city-state.
Vanna bowed before the statue of the tranquil sea maiden, then turned and pushed open the door to a nearby interrogation room.
The creaking of the door broke the silence of the underground facility. Upon opening, a spacious yet dimly lit room appeared before Vanna.
In the center of the room was a large table, and Ms. Heidi, dressed in a black gown, was getting up from beside the table. Opposite her was a chair with restraints, where a sun heretic was quietly sitting.
The heretic's eyes were vacant, leaning awkwardly against the armrest, as if all rationality and strength had been drained from their body, leaving only a remnant of chaos.
The room still held a strong scent of incense, and Ms. Heidi's medical kit was on the table, revealing empty large syringes, writhing thorny vines, and what seemed to be a golden spike still stained with blood.
"Oh, Lady Vanna, you arrived just in time," Ms. Heidi said, turning to greet her upon hearing the door open. "I just finished a 'treatment.'"
Vanna's gaze swept over Heidi's medical kit, her expression as usual: "Honestly, I still find it hard to connect your tools with 'treatment'..."
"These are standard tools for a mental physician... Okay, I admit I might use them more frequently than an ordinary doctor," Ms. Heidi replied, shrugging. "But who can blame me? I'm employed by the city hall and often help the church as a 'hypnotist.' The 'patients' I deal with are not normal, especially cultists like this one. Shaking crystals and low-frequency pendulums aren't as effective as a triple dose of 'midnight potion.'"
"...I suspect the reason you inject cultists with a triple dose is that your large syringe can only hold that much," Vanna quipped at her familiar acquaintance, but then shook her head. "But that doesn't matter; you just need to get these guys to talk... So, what did you find out?"
"I did, and the findings are significant and strange," Ms. Heidi replied immediately. "I've conducted deep hypnosis on several cultists and used some special methods. Now I can basically confirm... that these cultists who participated in the sacrificial ceremony likely weren't driven mad only after the ritual went wrong..."
"Not driven mad only after the ritual went wrong?" Vanna frowned immediately. Although she already knew from her conversation with Bishop Valentin that the situation was more complex than expected, Heidi's words still exceeded her expectations. "What does that mean?"
"I searched their memories and found that these people's thinking... or rather, their cognitive logic, had problems even before the last failed sacrificial ceremony began. More strictly speaking, it seems these cultists were affected by some sort of... cognitive filter even before the ritual started, leading to their memories... Hmm? Lady Vanna, you don't seem too surprised?"
(End of Chapter)