A swirling vortex of fire spontaneously grew on the deck, illuminating the area. From this luminous portal erged the master of the Vanished Fleet.
He stood tall and regal, his form shrouded in ethereal flas. His eyes glowed as intensely as burning torches, serving as a stark reminder of the terror of the Boundless Sea. Wherever he looked, it felt as if every fla on Earth intensified and danced to his command.
Following closely behind this imposing figure was a refined woman donning a rich purple dress. Her silver hair cascaded to her waist, and her stunning, albeit slightly pallid, face added to her mystique. She treaded lightly behind Captain Duncan, exuding an aura of mystery and grace reminiscent of a devoted attendant.
Lawrence’s heartbeat raced, and his anxiety peaked. He keenly observed as Duncan advanced toward him. With every step the captain took, the otherworldly flas surrounding him seed to pulsate and surge. Only when Duncan finally paused on the deck did Lawrence muster the courage to bow respectfully and greet him, “Captain.”
Surveying the vessel with a discerning eye, Duncan comnted, “Your ship isn’t too shabby.” He recalled encountering this exploration ship in the past, and the mories of their intertwined fates resurfaced. A sense of wonder blossod within him. For, in essence, this marked the maiden voyage of his true form stepping onto foreign decks outside the Vanished Fleet.
Prior to boarding the White Oak, Duncan had reservations, questioning whether his departure from the Vanished would instigate any unexpected shifts. After all, strolling through the city-state as a re “projection” of himself and departing his fleet in his actual form were vastly distinct endeavors. But his current venture proved his apprehensions baseless – at least within the confines of the “Vanished Fleet,” there were no complications due to his absence.
A wave of confusion gripped Lawrence. Unsure if Captain Duncan’s remark was praise or critique, he responded sowhat sheepishly, “Ah, I hope it ets your approval…”
Chuckling at Lawrence’s discomfort, Duncan said, “Relax. Rember, we’ve t before.” Seeing Lawrence’s familiar nervousness, a response he had witnessed countless tis in the past, Duncan tried to ease the tension. “Just envision as a veteran explorer you might bump into at the Explorer’s Association.”
Duncan then appraised Lawrence’s uniform, particularly noting the emblem of the Explorer’s Association on his collar.
With a reminiscent smile, he remarked, “Decades ago, I too was a zealous adventurer. Alas, my insignia from those days was misplaced in subspace.”
Lawrence, taken by surprise, dared to et the captain’s gaze. His anxiety gradually ebbed, and his thought process regained its pace. An epiphany struck him – the daunting “subspace specter” before him was stating facts. A century prior, Duncan Abnomar was not only an esteed mber of the Explorer’s Association but also one of its most renowned mbers.
Upon reflection, the Explorer’s Association hadn’t officially “expelled” this spectral captain, for no one had ever contemplated the necessity of revoking the mbership of a subspace shadow…
Duncan observed Lawrence’s internal turmoil but chose not to dwell on it. Once he saw that Lawrence had sowhat settled, Duncan initiated a light-hearted conversation as if they were discussing mundane topics, inquiring, “So, how was your voyage getting here?”
Attempting to seem composed, Lawrence replied, “It was smooth, actually. We embarked from Frost’s East Port, then journeyed past the barricade established by the Mist Fleet in the vast ocean. They even guided us further.”
Duncan, nodding in acknowledgnt, ntioned, “Yes, I gave instructions to Tyrian. The Mist Fleet won’t pose any threats to you.” His gaze then shifted to the flagpole, where he spotted a peculiar sight. “Is that Anomaly 077 dangling there?”
Swallowing hard, Lawrence responded, “Yes, that’s him.”
Raising an eyebrow, Duncan asked, “What did he do to deserve that? Why’s he suspended from the flagpole?”
There was a pause as Lawrence gathered his thoughts, finally explaining with a forced chuckle, “He chose to hang himself there, believing it would help him return to his dormant state. Clearly, it hasn’t had the desired effect.”
Duncan, bemused, murmured, “Every humanoid ‘anomaly’ I co across seems to have their quirks.” His gaze shifted to Alice, who, despite appearing refined, seed engrossed in her thoughts. He then addressed the dried-up being hanging mid-air, “Get down.”
Almost instantaneously, the desiccated figure, which had been immobile monts ago, vibrated briefly and plumted onto the deck with a thud. In a disoriented manner, it hastened towards Duncan, quivering as if it had been jolted with a surge of electricity, stuttering, “Cap… Captain, it’s Sailor… I report to you!”
An irritated Duncan inquired, “Have you always had a stutter?”
The figure hesitated, “I… I am a sailor…”
Amused by the anomaly’s evident fear of him, Duncan chuckled. It was fascinating to him that a being listed among the top hundred most powerful anomalies, possessing high-level cognition, could be so terrified of him, Captain Duncan. Puzzled by the stark contrast, Duncan then glanced over at Alice, who accompanied him.
Both Alice and the dried-up figure were elite anomalies, their cognition akin to humans. Yet, Alice showed no signs of fearing him. Initially, when she boarded the Vanished, there was a brief period of apprehension, but she quickly acclimated, even managing to communicate using objects on the ship.
Feeling Duncan’s gaze, Alice responded with a radiant, albeit sowhat dazed, smile.
Duncan contemplated, realizing it might not be Alice’s rapid adjustnt skills but rather her sluggish cognitive response. Perhaps after her initial fear, she simply forgot to remain afraid.
anwhile, Alice’s attention was drawn to the jittery dried-up being opposite her. After a mont of reflection, it appeared she rembered Duncan’s pre-departure briefing. She extended a friendly greeting, “Hi there! I’m Alice. I’ve heard you’re an anomaly as well?”
The dried figure, still trembling, eyed the poised lady before him, who, while looking entirely human, moved with a peculiar disjointed grace, asking in return, “And who might you be?”
Alice’s eyes sparkled with excitent as she exclaid, “Oh, I just rembered! I’m Number 099.”
The Sailor looked slightly perplexed, likely not accustod to conversing with fellow anomalies so casually. He replied hesitantly, “Well… I go by 077.”
After pondering for a bit, Alice’s face lit up with a triumphant smile, “That ans my number’s higher than yours!”
Overhearing this, Duncan felt compelled to clarify, “Anomalies are numbered in a descending sequence, so technically, 077 precedes 099.”
A flicker of realization passed through Alice’s eyes as she asked, “Does this an he’s mightier than I am?”
Duncan patiently elucidated, “The ranking of anomalies, especially those within the top hundred, doesn’t directly indicate strength or power. Their abilities can manifest differently in varying situations. For instance, at sea, he would likely have an advantage over you. On land, however, your powers could surpass his.”
But Duncan wasn’t certain how much of this Alice grasped. She scrutinized the “Sailor” intently, and without warning, made a grasping gesture with her hand.
In an instant, the Sailor seed paralyzed, his entire being stiffened, and he began to undergo a transformation that rendered him doll-like.
As abruptly as it started, Alice released her grip.
The Sailor staggered back, eyes wide with shock, as he gaped at the puppet-like entity before him, stamring, “What in the world…?”
Seemingly unimpressed, Alice comnted, “Not powerful. He doesn’t even know how to safeguard his own thread.”
Duncan, looking sternly at Alice, reprimanded, “You shouldn’t tamper with others’ ‘threads’ without their consent. Wait a second – are you implying that Anomaly 077 possesses a ‘thread’?”
Alice nodded with certainty, “Yes, he has several hovering around him. However, they’re quite odd. Typically, threads of ordinary people ascend and eventually vanish. But his thread seems to extend outward only to loop back into his form.”
Duncan’s gaze sharpened, focusing intently on the flustered Sailor. A soft green glint flashed within Alice’s eyes, allowing Duncan, for a brief mont, to perceive the nearly invisible white threads originating from the Sailor’s cranium and joints. These threads, instead of ascending infinitely, circled back into him.
Duncan pondered: Do all sentient humanoid anomalies possess these “threads”? Or was this characteristic specific to Anomaly 077? And how were these threads, which differed from the ones found in ordinary humans and circulated within one’s self, ford?
These questions swirled in Duncan’s mind, but he montarily set them aside to earnestly apologize to the “Sailor”, saying, “I’m genuinely sorry. Alice is still learning and ant no harm; she rely wanted to greet you.”
Desperate to defuse the situation, the Sailor, looking agitated, responded, “No, please don’t apologize! I’m alright, just a little startled. I’ll rember to maintain my distance from Alice in the future.”
As he voiced these thoughts, he started to mumble to himself, phrases like “it’s no wonder they’re on the flagship,” and “those close to the boss always possess extraordinary strengths.” He spoke just loud enough that Lawrence, standing nearby, could catch snippets of his mutterings.
Lawrence, observing this unfolding scene with a mix of confusion and intrigue, couldn’t fully grasp what had just transpired. He pieced together that so form of interaction or “communication” had occurred between the two anomalies, and it seed that the Sailor had co out of it sowhat shaken. An insight then struck Lawrence, and he turned his gaze towards the elegantly attired lady, “Hold on, Anomaly 099… Captain, is she the one from…”
Interrupting with a chuckle, Duncan replied, “Yes, she’s the ‘coffin’ you once transported aboard your ship. However, since then, the Vanished has integrated the coffin, and the puppet within – being the ‘contents’ – has been in a sowhat erratic state for so ti, quite akin to our friend, the Sailor, here.”
Upon Duncan’s explanation, Alice, with a hint of indignation, swiftly approached him to clarify, “Captain, I must correct you, I’m not erratic. I usually conduct myself quite appropriately…”
Jumping in, the dried-out Sailor hastily added, “Exactly, sa for ! I’m not erratic either. When Captain Lawrence requested that I disembark to confront the cultists, I didn’t think twice.”
Still processing the information, Lawrence glanced alternately between the Sailor, earnestly defending his reliability, and the poised yet slightly unstable “Miss Doll.” His eyes ultimately settled on Captain Duncan, seeking understanding.
Suddenly, the weighty atmosphere that had perated the deck seed to lift, and an unexpected bond ford between Lawrence and Duncan. It was a bond stemming from the shared trials and tribulations of being captains on the vast expanse of the Boundless Sea while simultaneously managing unpredictable, rcurial anomalies on their ships.
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