With a loud bang, the heretic suddenly spat blood and was sent flying ten ters away until he finally stopped upon hitting the trunk of a towering tree and slump to the ground like a broken sack.
The last expression in his eyes was one of profound bewildernt and confusion—perhaps in his lifeti, he had envisioned various formidable enemies and pitfalls, but he probably never imagined that one day he would be flung away by a dog.
Sherry, holding the dog’s leash, slowly approached the heretic who was unable to move even a finger, stopping at a safe distance.
The heretic was still alive—or more accurately, in this "Dreamscape," a blow that would have been fatal in the real world seed insufficient to kill him. Although his head was nearly smashed into his neck and most of his joints were horribly twisted, he was still alive, weakened to the point of immobility, his eyes filled with anger mixed with a trace of fear.
Sherry ignored his terrifying gaze, slightly lifted the leash in her hand, and the dog stepped forward, approaching the heretic.
"Who exactly are you..." the heretic uttered with difficulty from his throat, his eyes fixated on the ghastly Abyssal Hound that moved closer to him, a hint of fear finally starting to show uncontrollably, while nearby, the "death crow" that was symbiotically linked to him also struggled briefly as if trying to resist but soon cald down due to its partner’s extre weakness, making his voice sound even more bluffed, "What are you going to do?!"
"This is a Dreamscape, and I won’t be able to catch you once we’re back in the real world," Sherry’s face slowly ford a smile, she raised the arm intertwined with the leash, gently rubbing the dark chain across her face maintaining her harmless expression, "and if we et unawares in real life and I don’t notice in ti, it could get dangerous, so I need to leave a mark..."
"Mark...?"
The heretic lying on the ground was montarily stunned, and the next second, he saw the Abyssal Hound that had co closer suddenly open its mouth wide, its ghastly skeletal teeth rcilessly biting down—he only had ti to scream in terror as excruciating pain almost shredded his consciousness, his arm was torn into bloody flesh by the Abyssal Hound.
"I’ve rembered your scent now, we’ll catch you in the real world—" the dog raised its head, its eyes filled with blood, staring intently at the wailing heretic, a hoarse and deep voice ca from the skeletal chest, "Capture you alive, He will reward us..."
The wailing stopped abruptly, the heretic’s eyes widened, staring hard at the ghastly Abyssal Hound in front of him, his mouth agape, not sure if he was stunned that the Profound Demon could speak human language or if it was the last sentence he heard that filled him with imnse fear and danger—"He will reward..." Who exactly are this strange girl and this eerie demon, and who is the "He" they ntioned?
The next second, the heretic’s figure began to fade and distort, and in almost a breath’s ti, his figure vanished from before Sherry and the dog.
"He really escaped," the dog turned its head, shaking it from side to side, its tone sowhat helpless, "Must be his accomplices in the real world sensed sothing and forcefully ’pulled’ him out... We can’t stop this kind of ntal Transition."
"It’s okay, didn’t you rember his scent?" Sherry waved her hand, then asked seriously, "Can you really find him in the real world?"
"Don’t stray too far—if that guy happens to appear within my sensing range, I can definitely track him down," the dog muttered gruffly, "Abyssal Hounds are the best demons at tracking; he can’t erase the mark I left."
"That’s good," Sherry imdiately breathed a sigh of relief, "It would be great if we could really capture him alive, even if just enough for a couple of scrolls..."
The dog ignored Sherry’s rambling in the latter part of her sentence, it raised its head, hearing the chaotic wind and noise from all directions in the forest, witnessing the trees far away turning transparent and dimming by patches, signs that the Dreamscape was about to disintegrate were becoming increasingly apparent.
Clearly, sothing was influencing this Dreamscape—it was about to awaken.
...
A sound seed to co from the darkness, sounding like the chaotic wind howling, breaking branches at the treetops as it swept through the woods, but upon closer listening, it seed only a fignt.
Duncan had no extra energy to pay attention to these vague noises coming from the darkness, as he was completely captivated by the unbelievable scene before him.
It was indeed the Holoss—after spreading his perception into the depths of that vine, in the heart of this darkness and fog, he indeed saw that familiar "Ghost Ship."
But why? Why would the Holoss appear here?
Duncan moved closer, observing the "Holoss" as it seed to float on a pitch-dark surface of water, the dense darkness cloaking its lower half like it was swallowing it, and on its towering deck, the entire ship was utterly still, with no sounds coming across.
After so hesitation, he "flew" onto the deck of the "Holoss."
In this darkness, he moved purely as a "perspective," which afforded him sufficient convenience.
The deck was deserted, everywhere he looked were old, familiar scenes.
Following the route from his mory, Duncan slowly surveyed the deck’s facilities and nearby cabins.
Everything was exactly as he rembered.
But he knew this wasn’t the real Holoss, nor was it so projection of the Holoss—because he didn’t feel that close connection with "this ship," he didn’t receive feedback from the flas.
This ship was created by so other force.
The dark once again carried faint sounds of wind and noise, and this ti, they were a little more noticeable than before.
Duncan focused on the sounds emanating from the depths of the darkness, then headed to the stern deck area, stopping in front of the captain’s quarters.
His gaze lifted suddenly, and he froze.
On the doorfra, a line of unfamiliar words was inscribed—"May He Wander in the Dreamscape."
Wasn’t it "The Door of the Displaced"?
Duncan felt a mont of astonishnt because he clearly rembered that above the door to the captain’s quarters were the words "The Door of the Displaced," and this door was the only passage to his "studio apartnt"... Every aspect of this "Holoss" deep in the dark fog was as he rembered, so why were the words above this door different now?
He shifted his gaze from the doorfra and looked at the door panel—the next second, the door seed to open silently as if inviting him in.
The familiar captain’s quarters appeared before him, with dim yellow lights lit; all furnishings and the goat’s head on the edge of the navigation table were visible under the light.
Goat’s head?
Duncan’s mind stirred suddenly.
He rembered that when he first mistakenly entered the Subspace, on that damaged "Holoss" on one side of the Subspace, he hadn’t seen a goat’s head, and in his studio apartnt, that "model Holoss" also did not feature a goat’s head.
The presence or absence of the goat’s head seed to be a subtle yet critical "divergence" between the various "versions" of the Holoss.
With a series of conjectures and mories flashing through his mind, Duncan had already stepped through the doorway of the captain’s quarters and cautiously approached the navigation table, his eyes focusing on the black "wood carving" on the edge of the table.
The goat’s head rested quietly on its pedestal, like a real wood carving, motionless and unresponsive to the "captain’s" approach.
Of course, this could also be because Duncan’s presence here was rely a "viewpoint" and not a perceptible entity.
Duncan did not attempt to disturb the goat’s head on the table but continued to observe carefully.
Soon, he discovered another anomaly.
The sea chart on the table—it should have been a chart recording the routes traveled by the Holoss across the Endless Sea, docunting known City-States and routes; however, it now depicted a completely unfamiliar "map"!
It looked like a forest viewed from the air, the holographic-like landscape included undulating mountain ridges, enormous plant structures, and oddly architectural sites scattered throughout the dense forest, symbolizing the semi-transparent icon of the Holoss floating above this miniature projection, slowly moving through the forest.
Filled with profound astonishnt, Duncan stared at the strange "sea chart" for a long ti.
He obviously couldn’t recognize any reference-worthy information from this entirely unfamiliar map, but he rembered another strange sea chart he had seen on the "damaged Holoss" in the Subspace before.
On that Holoss navigating through Subspace, the sea chart also presented an eerie scene: chaotic, misaligned unknown sea areas filled with jumbled and strange navigation records.
Now, here on this Holoss erging from the dark fog, he was seeing another inexplicable "sea chart" — this ti... it even showed that the ship was navigating through a forest?!
This notion alarmingly sprung into his mind—
How many different "versions" of the Holoss are simultaneously navigating through various dinsions, charting different routes?!
While this bizarre thought erged in Duncan’s mind, a slight creaking noise suddenly ca from nearby, interrupting his wild speculations.
He instantly turned his gaze toward the direction of the sound.
The black goat’s head at the edge of the navigation table was slowly turning its neck, directing its gaze this way.
In the Obsidian-crafted pitch-black eyes, a hint of awareness seed to gradually erge.
The next second, Duncan heard a hoarse, deep voice enter his ears—
"Who is there..."
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