A mystical green fla in the captain’s quarters arose, setting the dimly lit room aglow. From within its srizing fire, a skeletal bird wrapped in these spectral flas took flight. As the flas whirled, they morphed into a swirling vortex, acting as a portal or doorway. From this mystic portal, Vanna, Alice, and Morris erged, stepping carefully into the room.
They took a mont to steady themselves, the light-shadow shift of the teleportation montarily disorienting them. Once they found their footing, they turned their attention to the navigation table just a few steps away. There, absorbed in studying a detailed sea chart, was Duncan. They approached, inclining their heads in respect, and greeted him with a deferential, “Captain.”
Without even raising his eyes, Duncan advised, “Take a mont to sit. It’s best not to move imdiately after teleportation; you might find yourselves unsteady.” Only after ticulously confirming specific locations on his sea chart did Duncan finally lift his head, focusing his gaze on Morris. “Morris, you have the book with you, correct?”
Morris swiftly responded, reaching into his attire and retrieving a book of imposing appearance – its cover as black as the abyss and with no title to be seen. It was known as “The Book of Blasphemy.” Holding it out to Duncan, Morris said, “It’s right here.”
Vanna, curious and a tad worried, piped up once Duncan took possession of the book, “Now that the three of us have returned, only your avatar is left behind in the city-state of Frost. Is that not a concern?”
Duncan replied reassuringly, “There shouldn’t be any significant problems back in the city. With Tyrian poised to take over as ruler and Agatha by his side ensuring stability, everything is in good hands.” He continued, “Your mission in Frost is done. Whatever minor tasks remain, my avatar is more than capable of addressing.”
With the gravity of the situation palpable, Duncan seated himself at the navigation table, setting the ominous black book next to his sea chart. This was the book that Morris and Vanna had acquired from a minor cult leader. Rumor had it that this book contained rare and vital information about the enigmatic Nether Lord. The to was believed to hold secrets predating the era of divine creation and the cataclysmic event known as the Great Annihilation.
Its exterior, however, gave no indication of its significance – only its jet-black cover and absence of a title set it apart. Strangely, no supernatural vibes emanated from it.
Vanna, Morris, and Alice had all gathered around the table, drawn in by the book’s mystery. While Alice, seemingly unaffected, leaned in for a closer look, both Vanna and Morris kept a respectful distance, hesitant to set their gaze too intently upon the to.
A curious wooden carving in the shape of a goat’s head on the navigation table’s edge turned to examine the book. The carving asked, its voice filled with curiosity, “What’s this? Just a book? Why is it held in such high regard?”
With a nonchalant tone, Duncan explained, “In essence, it’s a holy scripture of the Annihilators. It’s believed to docunt events preceding even the gods’ creation. And while many might dismiss its content as the ravings of cultists, so parts… intrigue deeply.”
“The written account of the gods’ very creation?” The wooden carving, in the shape of a goat’s head, seed truly startled by this revelation. Its tone shifted, skeptical and almost teasing, “Ah, the ‘Nether Lord’s Account of World Creation’ from those lunatics? I an no disrespect, but their notions hardly strike as credible. If you can just fabricate a tale about the genesis of our world with no tangible proof or logical foundation, then I’d argue any inebriated bard can spin a yarn about our universe’s origins. I once heard of this ludicrous performance suggesting our world was conjured from a hodgepodge in a massive cauldron…”
Duncan replied calmly, though with an intensity that was hard to ignore, “However, upon Morris’s reading of this book, his psyche was tainted, drawing even the gaze of the Four Gods. You are well aware of the gravity of that.”
The carved goat head made a creaking noise akin to wooden planks groaning under strain and lapsed into a thoughtful silence.
After what felt like an eternity, the carving finally uttered, “The closer one gets to the truth, the more one’s sanity is at stake…”
Standing aside and still visibly affected by his experience, Morris gravely added, “Indeed, it’s an age-old adage about anomalies and revelations – the closer to truth, the more perilous it is to one’s sanity. It’s believed that objects that inflict severe ntal afflictions often carry the genuine narrative of our world. Such is the paradox that scholars sotis gauge the authenticity of ancient texts based on the ntal turmoil they induce upon reading.”
The goat head oscillated gently as if deep in thought before stating, “However, profound distortions or sheer overpowering energies can induce such ntal perturbations too. In such circumstances, truth often becos more elusive. The greater the ntal toll, the more misguided the person becos.”
It continued with a sincere tone, “I speak from genuine concern, Morris. Many of your peers t their doom chasing these truths. Those who survived often believed they’d stumbled upon profound revelations, only to find themselves teetering on the brink of insanity. Today, their nas grace the heretical blacklists of various religious orders. And given that you’re aboard this vessel, I dare say you’ve earned a spot on that list as well…”
It was evident that despite the goat head’s unconventional nature, it had grown fond of the ship’s crew over ti. Its words might have sounded stern, but the sentint was pure and genuine concern.
Acknowledging this, Morris replied, “Your concern is appreciated. It’s undeniable that this world excels in beguiling us mortals, and our innate curiosity often leads us astray. Hence, we trust the captain to steer the course.”
“The captain will…” the goat head began, its tone shifting to one of apprehension as it noticed Duncan’s hand poised atop the ominous black book, evidently preparing to unveil its contents. “Hold on, are you certain you wish to delve into it?”
Duncan looked up with a hint of amusent, “Did you really think I had Morris bring this artifact onboard rely to elevate your stature?”
The goat head, slightly flustered yet ever-playful, responded, “Well, it wouldn’t be the worst idea…”
But Duncan wasn’t about to be sidetracked by this jest. He steadied himself, taking a deep, purposeful breath, focusing intently on the task at hand.
A subtle, almost translucent green fla sparked to life from within Duncan. Within monts, it consud him, leaving behind not ashes but a spectral, ghostly version of the captain. Reassured by the successful transformation, Duncan turned his attention to the imposing black to before him and cautiously turned to its first page.
However, much to his surprise, the page appeared blank.
He blinked, trying to adjust his eyes to the dim light. But as he looked again, a profound and impenetrable darkness seed to close in from every corner of his vision.
Suddenly, reality twisted and contorted, leaving no room for resistance or comprehension. The sensation was reminiscent of the first ti Duncan had used the Spirit Compass, where he felt his consciousness being yanked and swallowed whole into a vast void.
As the dizzying sensation subsided, Duncan quickly realized that the familiar confines of his captain’s quarters had disappeared. The wooden goat head, Morris, and other familiar sights were nowhere to be seen. And the black book, the very object that had led him to this eerie void, was mysteriously absent.
In the midst of this enveloping blackness, he gathered his thoughts. This was not what he’d anticipated, certainly not what Morris had recounted. The experience after opening the book was radically different.
Then, from the periphery of his vision, a faint luminescence caught his eye. He turned and, hovering in the void, was a tiny beacon of white light. As Duncan squinted and focused, he realized that the light was actually text.
As clarity returned, he could make out the words: “Upon opening the book, his experience was entirely distinct from Morris’s.”
Duncan froze. He stood there, entranced by the floating words, as a chilling realization washed over him. Ti seed irrelevant.
A distant mory then tugged at him. A similar void, a similar scenario, where text floated eerily – it was in subspace.
Within the recesses of the ship nad the Vanished, he’d once opened the door to the captain’s cabin and encountered such a realm, where text described…
Suddenly, words materialized in front of him but rapidly began to dissipate.
Duncan caught himself. He centered his thoughts, purposefully cluttering his mind with random numbers, words, and forgotten recollections. As he did so, the floating words gradually vanished.
He then struggled to restrain his thoughts, attempting to still his racing heart.
Countless questions surged within. What was this void? Why were words materializing? Why did they seem to describe him? Was this a mind probing technique? Or a soul-level projection? He had encountered a similar phenonon aboard the Vanished, but now it was tied to this book. What power did this to wield?
Despite his best efforts to control his thoughts, they spiraled. And in response, words once again erged from the void, though now they were fragnted and disjointed.
“Manifestation… From thought to reality… Reality is…”
With a crease forming between his eyebrows, Zhou Ming cautiously approached the mysterious text that floated in the void. Curiously, he stretched out a finger, wondering if the ethereal words had any tangible substance.
To his surprise, his finger rely caused a shimring ripple to spread across the darkness, much like a stone cast into still water. Within these ripples, he discerned that there were other layers of text hidden behind the visible words.
Hesitating only montarily, Zhou Ming decided to see if he could reveal more. Using his hand, he continued to manipulate the text, causing the ripples to spread further and reveal the concealed ssages within the depths of the darkness.
And then, right in front of him, multiple lines of fragnted text began to erge and stretch out, descending further and further.
“Transmission origin – Leviathan Queen – situation dire… condition deteriorating rapidly…”
“Transmission origin – King of Fire – Report any recent findings?”
“Transmission origin – Bartok – Distressing update… feedback from node becoming unclear… fear the cluster controller is duplicating… or has spiraled beyond our control…”
“…Origin-LH02 – Pertinent data available.”
“…Elaborate?”
“…LH-02 – Spotted an entity exhibiting cluster controller traits, potential cognitive shift detected, believed to have communication capabilities with .”
“Transmission origin – Leviathan Queen – Remarkable revelation! Any subsequent developnts?”
“Transmission origin-LH-02 – No further action.”
“Transmission origin-Bartok – Clarify?”
“Transmission origin-LH-02 – The intriguing entity dispatched a ssage symbolizing a dog’s head and then withdrew.”
Zhou Ming tried to comprehend the fractured ssages, attempting to stitch together the bigger picture from these cryptic transmissions.
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