Light Breeze Harbor’s order was quickly restored—although the scope of The Dream of the Naless far exceeded the previous crises involving Prand and Frost, the special nature of The Dream of the Naless ant that its impact on the real world was minimal after the "Dreamscape" receded.
The city that had been swallowed returned to the real world, and the districts that had been covered and replaced by nightmares were restored to their original state. The flowing fires in the nightmares of the ancient gods did not extend to anyone’s head—when a new day arrived, this frontier city had regained its usual appearance.
Of course, it was not to say that this incident had no impact on Light Breeze Harbor.
People still rembered the scenes when the nightmare struck, and a large number of citizens needed to be comforted. The whole incident also required a proper conclusion and interpretation. A considerable number of people experienced short-term mory disorders and hallucinations of sight and hearing after "waking up," although none were severe enough to trigger Transcendent contamination, but ntal health professionals still needed to be involved. Moreover, more ordinary people were affected by fatigue, drowsiness, and unexplained palpitations, which were sequela of their spirits being extracted and consud by the ancient god’s nightmares, and it was still unknown how long recovery would take.
In the Witch’s Mansion at 99 Crown Street in Light Breeze Harbor, Duncan was sitting next to the large French windows in the first-floor hall, looking across the street through the windows.
The academy’s steam walker was patrolling the streets, uniford Knowledge Guards and sheriffs were checking for any overlooked "Dreamscape residues" within the district, and governnt office staff dispatched from the city hall were going door-to-door, confirming the residents’ conditions, registering those with "ntal impairnts" who needed assistance, or taking those in serious conditions to the nearby psychological aid rooms for treatnt.
"... I just went to see Sala l, and the situation in the city is better than I imagined, there shouldn’t be anything to worry about—my brother would definitely be envious of the condition of Light Breeze Harbor after the event; Frost really gave him a hard ti back then."
Lucressia stood by Duncan, discussing the conditions she had just confird outside.
"I also t Master Taran El, who has returned to the real world, and the Truth Confidant. The forr is not too bad, just a bit sluggish and neurasthenic, but anyway, he’s usually like that, maintaining stable vital signs counts as success...
"The latter was indeed sent to the hospital—actually nothing serious, just so gastrointestinal discomfort, a whole bottle of Blood Raven mixture that was poured into him caused more burden on his digestive system than ntal damage..."
Duncan half-heartedly listened to Lucy’s report and casually remarked, "When there’s ti, we might as well visit the ’Truth Confidant’; he knows about the Holoss’s activities on the frontier a hundred years ago, I’d like to talk to him about these."
Lucressia nodded, and just then, a knock on the door suddenly ca from the direction of the vestibule, interrupting the conversation between Duncan and her.
Morris, who was reading near the door, stood up to open it, exchanged a few words with the Visitor, and then the sound of the door closing followed.
"It was the staff dispatched by the governnt office," Morris ca over and told Duncan and Lucressia, "They are assessing the ntal condition of the residents in each household, asking if anyone in this house needs psychological help."
Duncan glanced at Lucressia with an odd expression, and she spread her hands: "Not everyone knows the situation of the ’Witch’s Mansion,’ especially those low-level civil servants who were urgently pulled from other districts during special periods—their daily work has already overwheld them, where would they have the ti to understand a house filled with strange tales."
Duncan shrugged and turned to Morris, "How did you respond?"
"I told them that everyone in this house is in very good ntal condition, especially ," Morris said offhandedly, "but the Rahm emblem he had for detecting ntal contamination suddenly burned up—I think, after that, no one will co to bother this house anymore."
"Consider it another strange tale added," Duncan turned and told Lucressia.
"It dodged so unnecessary social interaction," Lucressia looked rather pleased, "a good thing."
Duncan smiled and looked out the window again, quietly admiring the street scene that was slowly returning to normality and vigor, before finally breaking the silence thoughtfully, "The incident in Light Breeze Harbor has ended... it’s ti to deal with so ’leftover issues’."
Lucressia blinked, "You an..."
"Is Rabi still on that ship?"
"...I understand, I’ll go check on the ’Nest’ right away."
...
Richard felt cold.
Since the last withdrawal from the "Dream of the Naless," he felt intermittently that his body was cold, as if the blood in his veins was diminishing and stopping its flow, as if his body could no longer generate enough heat—even wearing an extra layer of clothing or wrapping up in a blanket in the room did nothing.
He did not understand what was happening, although he clearly had a lot of warm cotton, he could not stop the heat from leaking out of his body—this "abnormality" irritated him.
He had asked Rabi, but Rabi had not given him an answer, only told him to just patiently wait.
Fortunately, there was still much to be done, and Richard could divert his attention elsewhere for the ti being.
The ship sailed across the Endless Sea, following a "secret route" far from all major channels, under the orders of the saint; they had now distanced themselves from the so-called "civilized world" and would reach a supply port near the border in a few days.
During this ti, the Believers on the ship hurriedly tidied up various "arrangents" left from previous actions, including resetting the runes in the assembly hall, resealing the "Skull of Dreams," and readjusting the ship’s concealnt to further hide its "aura."
Richard and a few companions checked the runes and the "Sacred Relic" in the lower deck.
"The saint said these symbols can block the Scions of the Sun from sensing this ship," Dumon murmured beside him, "...hopefully, these things are genuinely effective."
"After all, we pulled out at a critical mont—for those ’allies,’ that must seem like betrayal," Richard casually remarked, then with so confusion, "But then again... what happened that made the saint hastily decide to abort the mission? Was what the Doomsday Preachers said really that convincing?"
"I don’t know," Dumon shook his head, "but the saint must have his own considerations; he can glimpse into the shadows of fate, perhaps sensing the imnse danger lurking within The Dream of the Naless..."
At this, Dumon suddenly stopped, looked around quickly, and then leaned in close to Richard, lowering his voice, "I suddenly feel... this whole thing might have been a trap from the start, the so-called ’Dream of the Naless’ harbors unimaginable perils. It was right for us to withdraw in ti; those Scions of the Sun might now be in a dire situation."
Richard, noticing Dumon’s seriousness, also instinctively looked around and muttered softly, "Why do you say that?"
"We’ve ’evacuated’ quite so ti ago," Dumon raised his head, looking at those runes emanating a sinister glow in the dark between the ceiling and the walls. "That ’Scion of the Sun’ still hasn’t chased us down to question—honestly, I don’t think these runes, ant to block ordinary Transcendent beings, can stop an ancient god’s progeny."
Richard was taken aback for a mont before slowly catching on.
He shouldn’t have been that slow to respond; usually, he was sharper than Dumon—but sohow, from so point, his thoughts and reactions had beco significantly slower.
It was as if only now, with Dumon’s prompting, had he realised the "Scion of the Sun" might have t a severe fate.
"...Are you saying the ’Scion of the Sun’ is dead? Killed by The Dream of the Naless?" Richard’s voice took on a hint of tension; he asked quietly, anxious, "There isn’t much in the temporal world that could kill a ’Scion’; could it be that dreamscape..."
"It could also have been ’His’ followers, or even ’He’ Himself," Dumon muttered, "you know who it is."
Richard imdiately shut his mouth, not continuing the conversation on this topic.
They must not speak further of this matter, for the Ghost Ship’s captain would cast a glance this way amid rash spoken references; Holoss’s shadow would erge from the night sky onto the sea surface, enveloping everyone in thick fog.
Everyone who sailed across the Endless Sea grew up hearing such stories.
But Richard was still curious—
He knew the power of the Scion of the Sun. Even among all the "Scion" types, they were the strongest, born directly from the fire sea of the Black Sun, derivatives of ancient godliness. If not for the dinsional reality being shielded and sheltered by the four gods, restricting the Scions of the Sun to appearing only in projections in the real world, their full power could potentially destroy a City-State in a short ti—such power would even be difficult for a mighty saint to contend with.
Was that Ghost Ship’s captain truly that strong?
A cold sensation once again rose from the depths of his heart, giving Richard a start, and he hastened to control his wild thoughts, avoiding drawing any dangerous attention from the dark.
anwhile, he heard Dumon’s voice again in his ear—
"Regardless, we have left that maelstrom; while many are puzzled by it, we are safe now."
Richard fell silent for a few seconds.
A cold chill spread in his heart; his blood seed to have stopped flowing entirely, and he felt increasingly cold.
He felt his body was almost no longer producing heat.
But he slowly nodded.
"Yes, no matter what, we are safe now."
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