The assembly bell rang out, followed by the chaotic and frantic footsteps of the sailors, while Lawrence stayed in the pilothouse with the second mate and the still-breathless priest.
The old captain looked out at the sea from the window; the White Oak was still deep in the Spirit Realm, with fog swirling above and the waters outside the ship's bulwarks as dark as ink-stained black. Yet the storm had ceased, and the dreaded Homeloss had vanished without a trace—this couldn't help but give the illusion that the previous tempest and even the collapsing borders of reality had been brought forth by the Ghost Ship, and now all the disasters retreated with the departure of that vessel from the White Oak.
Lawrence's thoughts turned to the terrifying legends about the Homeloss and Captain Duncan Ebnomal, the fleet devoured by the borders of reality over a century ago, and the ships that had sunk into the Mysterious Deep Sea during encounters with the Homeloss. He suddenly felt that this might not be impossible.
But no matter what, now that the Homeloss had left and the surrounding sea had temporarily calmed, although they were still in the dangerous depths of the Spirit Realm, at least he and his crew had a chance to catch their breath.
Next, Lawrence had to determine what exactly the Homeloss had taken from—or left behind on—the White Oak.
And he had to do so quickly.
Without ruling out all hidden dangers, he dared not rashly allow the ship to surface to the real world, for some things brought from the Spirit Realm could cause terrible contamination in reality. However, if they lingered too long in the depths of the Spirit Realm, he and his crew would still suffer irreversible effects.
Listening to the clamor on deck, Lawrence suddenly looked up from his contemplation. He turned to the now paler priest sitting before the censer, his expression grave, "Mr. Ron, how is our stability now?"
The priest coughed twice, then drew a small, intricately designed compass, engraved with various maritime emblems and holy symbols, from his chest. After clicking open the metal cover, the compass needle immediately began rotating rapidly and finally settled steadily on a certain position.
"We are lingering on the surface of the Spirit Realm, slightly closer to the real world; the influence coming from the Mysterious Deep Sea is... very weak," the priest said, looking at the state of the compass needle, his expression suddenly confused, "Strange... we are completely stabilized here, without the Sacred Relic being active, there's almost no... cough cough... sinking."
"Perhaps that 'bump' from the Homeloss actually knocked us onto a safe course," Lawrence said wryly, shaking his head, trying to lighten the mood with a bad joke, "I've heard that there are some subtle balance points in the Spirit Realm that can protect things from the deeper 'pull' of reality..."
"Captain, that joke was colder than necessary," the priest replied, coughing again, and although he had caught his breath, he was far from well, "Cough cough, anyhow, what happened today must be reported to the church... The appearance of the Homeloss is no small matter. For decades there have been reports of encounters with the Homeloss, but afterwards, they were always proven to be the sailors' nonsense talk or the result of out-of-control phenomenon causing collective hallucinations. But today we truly witnessed it... By the Goddess, after you return to Prand, you'd better be prepared to not be able to sail for a while."
"I understand—neither the church nor the City-State authorities will allow a ship that has just experienced a supernatural disaster to return to the sea. It's a safety consideration for everyone. And I have more than just the church to report to—the City-State, the Explorers' Association... sigh, and my terrible wife..." Captain Lawrence pressed his forehead hard, letting out a long sigh before waving his hand dismissively, "Let's not talk about that now. You need to rest. Until we return to port, this ship needs the Goddess's blessing."
The priest nodded gently, and soon, the first mate who had left not long ago, returned to the pilothouse.
"There's no one missing, and no one extra," the first mate reported immediately without waiting for the captain to ask, "I personally checked the sailors gathered on deck, and the machinists in the boiler room, they all can accurately recite the names of the deities they believe in, no doubt they are alive."
"Not a single person missing?" Lawrence's eyes widened. Though the news should have been good, he found it hard to believe the first mate's report, "What about the Holy Beacon?"
"The Sacred Relic is normal," the first mate nodded immediately, "The navigator is preparing incense and essential oils, waiting for your command to reactivate the Sacred Relic."
Lawrence listened, bewildered, and once again couldn't help but mutter softly, "... Did it really spare this ship?"
"We've been favored by good fortune, Captain," the first mate spread his hands, "We haven't lost anything. Maybe that fearsome ghost captain was just passing by, he might have even bumped into us by accident."
"Do you believe that yourself?" Lawrence shot his first mate a glance, "If good fortune really favored us, we wouldn't have encountered..."
His words were cut off mid-sentence as a burst of urgent footsteps suddenly sounded from outside the door. Then, someone pushed open the door to the pilothouse, and the sweating bosun appeared before Lawrence, the tall man's face filled with panic.
"Captain! Aberration 099 is gone!!"
The bridge instantly fell silent, everyone looking at each other in confusion. However, for some reason, Lawrence felt a sudden sense of relief amidst the brief shock—
Thank goodness, after encountering the Homeloss, they had finally found something odd about the ship. That was too right!
But he quickly controlled his facial expression, hurried towards the door while impatiently ordering the first mate to take over the helm and instructing the boatswain to lead the way.
Hasty footsteps echoed in the corridors of the White Oak's cabins, and soon, Lawrence, led by the boatswain, arrived at the very depths of the steamship.
A special compartment appeared before him.
The door of the compartment was covered with a dense array of mystical symbols, and the heavy, dark door seemed as though it had been forged from a single block of black iron. The arcane symbols stretched from the edge of the doorframe along the corridor, faintly forming what looked like a closed cage, intended to bind the contents stored within the compartment.
Lawrence glanced at the door, confirming that neither the door nor the surrounding symbols were damaged. Then he looked up—the "Sacred Relic Room," where the sigil marker was placed, was right above the sealed compartment. That marker was crucial to ensure the ship was unaffected by the "deep layers," and it also served as a second layer of insurance to maintain the sealing compartment. Even in its dormant state, it was supposed to ensure the integrity of the seals.
Despite the intactness of both layers of protection, the contents of the sealed compartment, the most vital cargo that the White Oak was escorting on this voyage, anomaly 099—the puppet coffin, had disappeared.
Lawrence took a deep breath, stepped forward, and opened the door to the sealed compartment, pushing the heavy door with force.
Within the compartment, the lights were bright. The gas lamps hung on four pillars illuminated the room's center without leaving any dead angles. However, the "cargo" that should have been placed there was gone without a trace, leaving behind only several crisscrossed chains and some grey-white ashes scattered on the ground around.
The voice of the boatswain came from behind Lawrence, "According to the sealing requirements of anomaly 099, the room has always been kept lit, and every two hours, a sailor would enter to reinforce the chains around the 'coffin' and scatter bone ash on the floor of the room. But when that... Ghost Ship appeared and the situation became chaotic, the sailor who was supposed to come in didn't make it on time. He was almost seven minutes late, and by the time he got here, anomaly 099 had disappeared..."
"Being seven minutes late wouldn't cause it to lose control. At most, the seal would weaken, and we might see some movements, the worst being a coffin moving around in this room—these layered seals and the restraint of the Holy Sigils markers are not just for show," Lawrence replied with a shake of his head, frowning, "The situation now is that it has disappeared... The cargo has left the ship, and it's not that sailor's fault."
The boatswain's expression became somewhat tense, "Then you mean..."
"It must be the Homeloss," Lawrence said gravely, "that 'captain' took anomaly 099..."
At this, he paused for a moment, and then let out a soft sigh, "Perhaps we should feel fortunate; the Homeloss only takes what it wants. That captain came for anomaly 099, not our lives."
The boatswain looked at his captain's face, then at the empty sealed compartment, and hesitated before asking, "Then... having lost such an important cargo, how do we explain to the City-State authorities..."
Lawrence glanced at the boatswain and gave a firm pat on his shoulder.
"The Homeloss is considered an act of God; we have maritime insurance."
"...Do the insurance companies cover this?"
"If they don't pay up, let the Explorers' Association issue a new bounty for the Homeloss..."
"Captain, aren't you a bit anxious..."
"Shut up."