Chapter 9: Chapter 9 Going and Returning, Again and Again
Editor: Nyoi-Bo Studio
The sunlight was very bright.
If that glowing object high in the sky was indeed the sun, then its “sunlight” was… truly very bright.
Duncan didn’t know how long he had been staring at the sky until his eyes became sore and unbearable. Only then did he finally divert his gaze from the clouds. However, the “sun’s” image remained deeply etched in his retina and mind. Even with his eyes closed, he could vividly recall its appearance—the faintly golden, luminous sphere, the twisting streams of light surrounding it, and the still concentric rings orbiting around the sphere.
The sun wasn’t supposed to be like this; it shouldn’t be like this—not in the world he knew, not even under the skies of an alien planet would the stars look like this.
But now he had to accept the truth.
He was in a foreign land, far beyond what he had ever imagined.
Even the sun had transformed into something beyond his comprehension.
Duncan subconsciously turned his head back, looking at the door in front of the captain’s quarters.
Pushing the door inward would take him back to the room where he had lived for many years, back to his bachelor’s apartment.
But outside that room, a thick fog had long since obscured the whole world. His familiar “homeland” had, in a certain sense, been reduced to that final thirty-square-meter cabin alone.
The “home” that seemed just a door-push away was in fact another solitary vessel sailing the sea.
In the midst of an extended silence, the voice of the goat-headed figure suddenly broke through to Duncan’s ears, “Captain, where shall we go next? Do you have a navigation plan?”
A navigation plan? How could Duncan possibly have something like that—although he too wanted to immediately come up with a complete scheme to explore this world, to settle the course of their voyage, he didn’t even have a proper nautical chart at hand, let alone any knowledge about the lands, the powers that be, or whether there was an end to this boundless Endless Sea.
It was just a few hours ago that he had learned how to pilot the Homeloss.
Yet he pondered and, after several minutes, spoke in his heart, “The ship that collided with the Homeloss earlier, where did it come from?”
Do you intend to go to those City-States?” The goat-headed voice sounded surprised, and then it began to caution him, “I would advise you not to approach the seaways controlled by those City-States… at least not now. Although you are the great Captain Duncan, the current condition of the Homeloss… is not what it used to be, and the City-State’s naval guards and the church’s paladins will certainly fight with all their might against your… assault.”
Duncan was momentarily at a loss for words. He suddenly wanted to know what exactly the “Captain Duncan” he had replaced had done in the past to arouse such animosity, so much so that even showing his face in the worldly realm seemed to instantly provoke a 25-person raid…
Listening to the subtle implications in the goat head’s words, Duncan also realized that the condition of the Homeloss and himself as a “captain” might not be as good as it flattering portrayed on a regular basis—could it be that the ghost ship captain and his vessel’s lurking in the distant seas were actually because they did not dare to return to the ports of the civilized world?
It’s truly a journey to the ends of the world by another name for exile!
Duncan felt a touch of vexation. He urgently needed to find a way to understand this world, to come into contact with the “civilized society” of this world, whether for the sake of surviving here long term or to unravel the mysteries and return to his own familiar “homeland.” He couldn’t continue to drift aimlessly on this limitless ocean. The problem was—
The “civilized society” of this world didn’t seem to think so.
In the eyes of the locals, “Captain Duncan” was like a world boss wandering outside the main city, one that must be confronted with a 25-person raid as soon as he appeared within sight…
Duncan sighed—if there were but a book to read aboard the “Homeloss,” he wouldn’t be so passive. His only source of information here was the rambling goat-head, but he did not dare to expose too much of himself before the goat-head at this stage.
But then again… how could there not be a single book on such a large ship?
The lonely, prolonged sea voyage was an extremely stressful environment for those living on the sea. People needed some way to relieve the pressure. Ordinary sailors might not have much time for reading for entertainment, but the distinguished “Captain Duncan”… couldn’t possibly be illiterate, could he?
After all, the “captain” was a technical occupation that required a high level of knowledge. Even the roughest and wildest pirates needed a captain who could understand nautical charts, knew astronomy, and could calculate navigation routes.
With doubts in his mind, Duncan casually asked—his question was cautious, trying to appear as if he was just mentioning it in passing, and the goat-head’s response was without hesitation:
“Books? Reading books at sea is a dangerous thing. The shadowy depths and the creatures of the Subspace are always waiting for moments when a mortal’s mind shows weakness, and the only safe reading material are those ‘classics’ distributed by the church. Those are safe but reading them is dryer than scrubbing the deck… Haven’t you always been uninterested in the church’s materials?”
Duncan’s eyebrows shot up.
How could reading a book at sea be dangerous? And only the church’s “classics” were safe to read? What kind of serious illness did this vast expanse hold?
Feeling as though he had gained a little more knowledge about this world, but with new puzzles emerging, Duncan could only forcefully suppress these new queries. He moved to the ship’s rail, gazing out towards the boundless seawater and sky.
That golden “sun” poured down torrents of light, and the reflections on the sea were like shimmering, golden foil—if one discounted the too-peculiar appearance of that sun, it indeed made a beautiful scene.
“I want to hear your advice,” he said carefully to the goat-head after weighing his words, “I’m getting tired of this aimless sailing, and perhaps…”
He was only halfway through his sentence when a strange “feeling” suddenly surged from the bottom of his heart. This feeling came from his connection with the Homeloss, as if some “foreign object” had suddenly touched the ship. Next, he heard a “thud” from the stern, as if something heavy had struck the deck.
Duncan’s brow furrowed, and he immediately drew the readied flintlock pistol at his waist, and his other hand unsheathed the longsword. He then rapidly ran toward the direction of the sound.
A moment later, he arrived at the stern deck, and the sight of an object lying there left him stunned.
It was the ornate wooden box, reminiscent of a coffin.
It was the eerie doll.
A shiver ran down Duncan’s spine as he stared at the still-wet box, as if it might burst open on its own any second, and then he noticed the nails around the lid had vanished without a trace.
They were the nails he had driven in before throwing the box into the sea, nails that were supposed to be very secure.
After facing off warily by the box for several minutes, Duncan finally made up his mind. He gripped the flintlock pistol tightly in one hand and probed the crevice of the box lid with his longsword, then pried it open with force.
The ornate lid creaked open, and the lifeless Gothic doll still lay inside, enveloped in the red velvet lining, like a princess in slumber.
Duncan stared at the doll for several seconds before speaking in a solemn tone (he believed he exuded sufficient authority at that moment), “If you’re alive, then get up and talk to me.”
After repeating this twice, the doll still didn’t move an inch.
Duncan looked at her sternly and finally said indifferently, “Very well, then I will have to send you back.”
Having said that, he didn’t hesitate to cover the lid again, fetched tools, and nailed a crisscross of coffin nails over the box. After nailing it shut, he found a chain and, using the existing hooks on the box, secured the lid tightly.
After finishing all this, Duncan stood up, satisfied, and patted his hands, nodding slightly at the “coffin” he had thoroughly secured with bands and an extra layer of coffin nails, “This time, you should not be able to rise from your coffin.”
Then, without any hesitation, he kicked the box back into the sea again.
Watching the box hit the water, then watching it bob with the current as it drifted away, Duncan breathed a sigh of relief, before turning to leave the stern.
But halfway through, he suddenly turned back to look again in the direction where the box was floating off.
The box was still drifting on the surface.
Duncan nodded, continued walking away, and then suddenly looked back again.
The box was still afloat on the surface, now very far away.
“Perhaps I should have put a cannonball or something inside, so it could sink…”
Duncan muttered to himself before finally turning and slowly heading towards the captain’s quarters.
“You’re somewhat harsh on the lady,” the voice of the goat’s head came into his mind.
“Shut it—do you call a cursed doll a ‘lady’?”
“Well, it does seem like a cursed doll… But what curse in the Endless Sea could rival that of the Homeloss and the great Captain Duncan? Captain, actually the lady is quite mild and harmless…”
Duncan: “…”
Why was this goat’s head always so proud when mentioning the curses and infamy of the Homeloss and Captain Duncan?
Perhaps sensing Duncan’s disquiet in the silence, the goat’s head quickly changed the subject, “Captain, you said earlier you wanted to hear my advice, what exactly…”
“Later, I need to rest for a bit—I’ve depleted my energy steering the Homeloss through the Spirit Realm. Keep quiet for now.”
“Yes, Captain.”
The goat’s head fell silent, and Duncan returned to the captain’s quarters. He approached the navigation table, his gaze casually sweeping over the sea chart.
The next second, his gaze suddenly solidified.
There seemed to be a subtle change in the sea chart—the grey-white patches that had been covering the entire paper as if alive and writhing appeared to dissipate a bit, and the sea around the Homeloss was becoming clearer!
Could this thing be updating the information around the vessel in real-time as the Homeloss sails?
Duncan immediately went to the navigation table, intently focused on the subtle changes on the sea chart.
But his concentrated state was quickly interrupted.
In the depths of his mind, the Homeloss sent a signal of “contact with foreign object,” and immediately after, a “thud” sounded from the deck behind and to the side of the captain’s quarters.