4 Spirit Realm Speedboat

Eerie green flames blazed upon his body, his flesh and bones turned into a semi-transparent spiritual form within the fierce fire. Duncan manned the helm of the Homeloss within this river of flames, and his perception seemed to spread along with the flames, eventually extending to the entire ship.

It turns out, it didn't need any crew at all.

The Homeloss could set sail on its own, only needing the captain to steer, ready to sail at any moment.

When the eerie green flames burst into the air, Duncan was thrown into brief panic, but the supernatural phenomena he had witnessed more than once on this ship over the past few days forced him to calm down and not to let go of the steering wheel during those crucial seconds.

Now, he was finally certain that the flames were some kind of "power" that was harmless to him—regardless of whether his body could recover afterward, at the very least, the power of the flames appeared to be aiding him in controlling this ghost ship beneath his feet.

The jubilant roar in his mind gradually faded, and Duncan felt his mind was clearer than ever before. The Homeloss communicated with him in diverse indescribable "touches," as if it was an extension of his own limbs. Although he still lacked the knowledge and experience that a qualified captain should possess, at least now he had the ability to control the ship single-handedly.

The sails, like gossamer mist, billowed on the mast, and the various staysails and jibs began to adjust their angles automatically. The airflow above the sea surface was in disarray, yet these spiritual sails seemed to draw consistent power from the invisible turbulent winds. The Homeloss ceased its aimless drifting and began to stabilize under the push of the sails.

Duncan attempted to turn the steering wheel in his hands, feeling a tangible force feedback rush into his mind. He could sense that the vast ship below him was finally beginning to turn, trying to move away from the boundless fog ahead.

But the turn wasn't fast enough, the endless fog was still inching closer. From beside the wheel, a voice shrieked through the copper pipe, "Warning, approaching the limits of reality... We're about to fall into the Spirit Realm! Captain, we need..."

"I'm on it!" Duncan bellowed, interrupting the goat head's voice, "Rather than blabbering underneath, think of something useful to help!"

The goat head went silent, but just as Duncan thought it had finally quieted down, that hoarse, piercing, and somewhat chilling shout suddenly came through the copper pipe again: "Push! Push! Push!"

Duncan: "...?"

At that moment, everything around him felt unreal. He had accepted the strange occurrences he'd encountered, the supernatural powers aboard the ship, and even the fact that he was being slowly stewed by a ball of green fire. Yet, he couldn't imagine the goat head, which had given him a strong sense of danger and strangeness from the beginning, making such an astonishing move... That thing had been weird from the start, but now it was too much!

But the rapidly approaching fog left no time for Duncan to think or complain. Although the Homeloss had already begun to turn swiftly—a movement that could almost be described as drifting considering the ship's massive size—the dense fog in the distance seemed to be consciously chasing its prey, casting out vast swaths of thin mist from its edges that quickly enveloped the entire space around the Homeloss.

The instant the thin mist rose from the sea surface, Duncan keenly felt an odd change in the surroundings. The sky light suddenly dimmed, and the once blue seawater inexplicably teemed with countless, thread-like black lines that floated up from beneath the surface, quickly turning the entire ocean pitch black.

Within the mist, it seemed as if innumerable figures began to emerge.

"We've fallen into the Spirit Realm!" The goat head's clamorous and eerie cheering finally subsided. Its shouts now seemed to come from an extremely distant place, interspersed with a multitude of low, murmured whispers, as if numerous malevolent voices surrounded Duncan, "But the Homeloss hasn't completely gone under—Captain, hold the helm. As long as we don't sink to the Mysterious Deep Sea, the Homeloss still has the power to maintain a heading. We can still get out!"

"That's provided I know which way to go!" Duncan roared in a low voice, his words mixed with the crackling of green flames, as if coming from hell, "I've lost my sense of direction!"

"Intuition, Captain, intuition!" the goat head yelled through the copper pipe, "Your intuition is more accurate than the markings on a sea chart!"

Duncan: "..."

A sense of helplessness washed over him, but Duncan no longer had the energy to argue with a weird goat head. Since it suggested relying on intuition, he might as well just go for it—

Following that faint sensation remaining from before the mist had risen, he clenched the steering wheel tightly and used all his strength to turn in the direction he believed in.

The Homeloss from top to bottom let out a series of chilling howls. The massive ship traced a remarkable arc over the now completely blackened sea surface, with the wind howling and the mist swirling. In the dim sky light and the fog, Duncan caught a glimpse of something emerging within the mist with the corner of his eye.

The next second, he saw it was a ship, a white vessel with a black smokestack in the middle that was smaller than the Homeloss.

At the end of the stunning arc traced by the Homeloss, the ship suddenly appearing from the fog was heading straight toward them—or rather, the Homeloss was heading straight for it.

A scream was all that was left in Duncan's mind: "Mother clucker, there's trouble with street racing in the Spirit Realm!"

Throughout his long exploration of this strange world, he hadn't seen another living soul, so why on earth would a ship suddenly appear now? What are the odds of this happening at the same time?

…...

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The gales howled and towering waves surged, as the Endless Sea unleashed its fearsome might. In the face of nature's force, strong enough to rupture the transcendent, the "White Oak" strained the steam engine's last bit of power to combat the fate of death.

The captain, Lawrence Creed, with his graying hair, stood in the pilot's compartment. The sturdy walls and glass windows of the compartment seemed to offer him no sense of safety. His hands gripped the ship's wheel tightly, as if the dying groans and convulsions of the White Oak resonate directly into his brain through the series of gears and rods behind the wheel.

Through the broad windows, he clearly saw astonishingly huge waves rising outside the ship's side. More terrifying than the waves, though, was the eerie thick fog that rolled and spread over the distant sea, and within it, the occasional glimpse of black lightning.

The White Oak was the most advanced steamship in the world, but even the most sophisticated machinery could only guarantee that the ship would surge with power in "normal" seas. Yet, what it and its captain now faced was a collapsing boundary of reality, a bone-chilling cold spreading from the vile palaces of evil deities rising from the world's underbelly.

"Captain! The priest can't hold on much longer!"

The first mate's piercing cry came from the side, Lawrence heard a slight hoarse echo in the other's voice. He then looked forward at the control panel, and saw ominous purple-black flames rising from the censer placed on the prayer table. The respectable and loyal clergyman in the deep blue robe sitting in front of the censer was trembling, with madness and clarity flickering alternately in his eyes.

Lawrence's heart sank.

He knew that the honorable priest still stood with humanity, using his last devout belief and purest, most sacred soul to ward off the call from the "depths of the world." But this resistance was the last of his strength; the purple-black smoke rising from the censer was clear evidence that the corruption had breached the prayers.

Once the priest fell, every lucid mind on this ship could become a gateway, a door to the Mysterious Deep Sea, or even to Subspace.

"Captain!"

The first mate's voice came again from the side. Lawrence interrupted him. The middle-aged captain's face was resolute: "Temporarily shut down the Sacred Relic beacon—we are sinking into the Spirit Realm!"

The first mate was flabbergasted, as if he couldn't believe his own ears: "Captain?!"

"Into the Spirit Realm—this way, at least for ten minutes, we can dodge the most ferocious wave of the border collapse, and the priest might have a chance to recover," Lawrence commanded again, undeniably, only this time he added an explanation, "Carry out my orders."

The first mate's mouth opened as if he had more to say, but then he clenched his teeth: "You are the captain!"

The crew started swiftly executing the captain's orders. Lawrence, who was personally at the helm, took a deep breath. The Sacred Relic beacon in the depths of the ship was gradually going out. He could feel the invisible protective field that enveloped the White Oak weakening rapidly, and without the protection of the Sacred Relic, the ship was sinking little by little into the "Spirit Realm," the layer between reality and the Mysterious Deep Sea.

A mist formed over the surrounding sea, and the water began to turn gradually blacker.

It was dangerous, but historically, not all ships that had sunk into the Spirit Realm state failed to return to the human world. As a member of the Explorers' Association, he had pored over many such records and various "survival guides" written by survivors.

How much worse could it get? He just needed to let the White Oak dodge a storm on the edge of the Spirit Realm and then make a thrilling "Spirit Realm Drift" with the surging power of its advanced steam engine. If luck was still on his side, he would be able to lead his crew back to the human world.

Then to promptly hand over that damned "Abnormality 099" in the cargo hold to the Governor of the Plunder City-State and from then on, never meddle in official matters for the rest of his life.

It couldn't get any worse.

Lawrence consoled himself with this thought.

Then he saw a three-masted sailship, substantially larger than the White Oak, abruptly appearing on the horizon, shrouded in darkness. It was charging with an unstoppable momentum, cutting a spectacular arc through the waters, and bearing down like a thunderbolt...

Captain Lawrence stared blankly ahead.

"...Fuck."

(Damn it! Another surprise!

Thank you for your enthusiasm and support, and thanks to the Silver Alliance of "No More Integrity"... Big cute, today, another chapter will be added =.=

However, this update pace is only for today... After all, my body isn't as strong as it used to be 233)

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