The morning light was feeble as anomaly 001, locked by a double Rune Circle, slowly rose from the distant horizon. Amid the gradually spreading dawn, the massive sails of the Ghost Ship floated on the vast, calm sea, gradually coated with a layer of radiance in the early morning.
At the end of the distant sea, within the slight morning mist, one could faintly make out the silhouette of Frost City-State—the city's injuries and the countless tales of joy and separation became blurred in the mist at this distance, as if dissolving in the sunlight.
Duncan sat quietly at the edge of the ship's bow, with a fishing rod propped up next to him, watching the fishing line reflect the sunlight in the morning glow, occasionally looking up at the direction of Frost City-State.
At this hour, most parts of the city were still quiet, so he didn't need to pay much attention to the avatars within the City-State and could afford the luxury of enjoying the ease on board the ship.
