Chapter 388: Boundary of Illusion

Duncan did not allow himself to drift aimlessly around the ship when he emerged from the captain's cabin. Instead, his hand instinctively reached for the door handle marked "Door of the Lost." As he pulled the door open, he was met with the familiar sight of Zhou Ming's private quarters. The room was precisely as he had left it, an unchanged haven in a sea of uncertainty. It gave off a potent aura of familiarity that momentarily took him aback as though he'd been away for much longer than he thought.

True to his established routine, Zhou Ming first made his way towards the firmly closed window. He scrutinized the fine layer of dust gathered on the sill, then checked the lock's condition, making sure it was secure. Despite knowing full well the triviality of these actions, he performed them with the precision of a ritual. Afterwards, he reached for the diary hanging within arm's reach of the window, diligently recording the day's observations in a previously untouched section: The doors and windows had not been tampered with. The room had stayed pristine in his absence.

Having completed this new diary entry, Zhou Ming sighed and slowly ambled towards the study desk.

At that very moment, tiny emerald sparks started to flicker on the desk surface, gradually outlining an unknown form. The sparks grew in intensity, coalescing to reveal the object they were forming. The crafting process was almost at its completion, hinting at a ship.

To be specific, it was a steam-powered mechanical marvel with a sleek white hull and an impressive chimney—nothing less than a remarkable feat of engineering.

Zhou Ming watched this spectacle unfold with an unperturbed demeanor.

The object turned out to be a miniature of the White Oak, which had now inexplicably taken form inside his room. But this raised the question—why was it there? What had caused its sudden appearance? And what had become of the actual vessel?

Zhou Ming's gaze then moved to a shelf in the room. There, nestled snugly among the slots of the shelf, were the miniatures of the Vanished and Pland, standing in silent testament to their former glory.

Zhou Ming knew that objects fully enveloped by the spirit's fire, under his complete control, would materialize as exact replicas on his desk. This had been the case with the Vanished and Pland, and now it seemed the White Oak had followed suit...

Suddenly, vivid memories of his initial encounter with the White Oak surged forward, overwhelming Zhou Ming's senses.

The White Oak had once fallen prey to Zhou Ming's spectral flame, and the entire vessel was absorbed by the Vanished. But it seemed that his control over the ethereal fire had not been enough at that time. After being scorched, the White Oak did not transform into a desk-side ornament like other objects but left an enduring trace mark instead.

Now seated at his desk, Zhou Ming observed as the twinkling green sparks traced the last details of the White Oak's outline. His expression mirrored deep contemplation.

Zhou Ming was confident that he hadn't kept tabs on the White Oak for quite some time and had not purposely ignited the flame mark left on the ship. Thus, the current metamorphosis wasn't a consequence of his actions—it was a voluntary change initiated by the White Oak itself. Evidently, a significant event had occurred on the ship, setting off the mark left on it. The mark hadn't just been activated but had gone as far as transforming the ship into one of his cherished miniatures.

His eyes narrowed in concentration as Zhou Ming once again attempted to pinpoint the exact location of the White Oak and assess its current state.

After a moment of intense focus, he slowly opened his eyes, a look of solemnity etched on his face.

Despite his best efforts from the confines of his room, Zhou Ming found it tricky to locate the precise whereabouts of the White Oak. His senses vaguely suggested it might be towards Frost, the world that lay beyond his doorstep. Moreover, as he attempted to assess the White Oak's status, he received an unfamiliar response.

It felt as if the ship was entirely submerged in an ocean.

On the desk, the dance of the green sparks came to an end, leaving behind a beautifully detailed model of the White Oak silently positioned before Zhou Ming.

After a moment's hesitation, Zhou Ming extended his hand to pick up the miniature of the White Oak, raising it for a more intimate inspection.

However, nothing seemed amiss.

After examining the model for a brief period, Zhou Ming shook his head in reluctant acceptance. He realized it was impossible to verify the ship's situation from the confines of his room—he would need to physically journey to Frost for a thorough investigation.

Standing from his desk, with the White Oak model in his grasp, he intended to add this new artifact to his display shelf. But he paused near a mirror, his eyes reflecting deep thought as he scrutinized his own reflection.

What returned his gaze was not the reflection of the White Oak, but rather a unique ship shrouded in a dense, ominous mist!

The ship's silhouette, mirrored in the glass, bore an uncanny resemblance to the White Oak—it was as if they were twins, cast from the same die. However, this reflected ship emanated an enigmatic, almost otherworldly aura. The hull was marred by signs of significant damage and long-term neglect, suggesting that it had rested on the seabed for countless years. Zhou Ming switched his gaze between the ship in the mirror and the model in his hand, confirming that the object he held was indeed just the model of the White Oak.

After a fleeting moment of surprise and contemplation, Zhou Ming hastily put the White Oak model down. He moved decisively towards the display shelf, picked up the models of the Vanished and the Pland, and meticulously inspected each one in the mirror's reflection.

However, neither of them changed in the mirror.

The White Oak stood as the lone exception, revealing a mysterious "doppelgänger" in the mirror's reflection.

Zhou Ming once again positioned the White Oak model before the mirror, his gaze thoughtfully studying the darkened ship that shimmered back at him from the reflective surface.

It seemed as though the mirror was showing a parallel dimension's "reflection" of the White Oak.

Engrossed in his contemplation, he slowly stretched his hand towards the mirrored phantom, only to meet the cold, unyielding surface of the mirror.

...

Meanwhile, at the wheel of the ship, Lawrence found himself dwarfed by the foreboding silhouette of the Black Oak. The shadow-laden fog gradually closed in around him, engulfing his form. The lantern hung precariously at the ship's bow, its weak light making a futile attempt to pierce through the all-consuming darkness and etch out a path forward.

Casting a glance over his shoulder, Lawrence could barely discern the White Oak, which now looked like a faint ghost hidden in the foggy distance. Even though the two vessels had appeared closely linked from the White Oak's bridge, he now felt an immeasurable gulf separating them. This chasm was not merely physical distance but seemed like a divide between the realms of the real and the surreal, and he was gradually navigating his way through this spectral schism.

His mindset stabilized as the surroundings grew more peculiar and the darkness ever more engulfing. It was as if the path had been revealed, and fate had laid out all the choices before him—he was steadfast in his decision to board the Black Oak, regardless of the unknowns it held.

However, it appeared as though he was the sole passenger capable of maintaining his equanimity. Another occupant of the boat was far from experiencing the same tranquility.

"Please, I beg of you, let me go! If necessary, bind me and hoist me up the mast!" implored Anomaly 077 incessantly. This figure, resembling a living mummy, had been chattering incessantly, "As long as I can retreat back to my slumber, I'm willing to comply with any request you have... even if it entails devoting myself to the storm goddess...or perhaps even the god of death! I simply cannot endure this relentless wakefulness any longer!"

For the first time since their departure, Lawrence finally addressed the mummy's pleas, "You're willing to submit yourself to a deity?"

Taken aback, the mummy halted momentarily before energetically nodding, "If it means I can resume my sleep, I'm ready to declare my loyalty to any god, even within the realm of my dreams!"

Reflecting on this for a moment, a well-known sailor's jest sprang to Lawrence's mind. A smile began to play upon his lips, "Well then, how about considering an oath to the god of wisdom?"

Anomaly 077 appeared momentarily baffled, and after a beat, it managed to croak out a response through its parched throat, "I suppose I could initiate my devotion by immersing myself in the intricacies of plane geometry..."

"Even contemplating allegiance to the god of wisdom, your desperation is indeed profound," Lawrence observed, shaking his head in amused fascination, "But what exactly spurs this fear in you? From the data I've gathered, you're classified as an anomaly prone to losing control, yet here you are, desperate to revert to your dormant state. Why is that?"

In response, Anomaly 077 merely recoiled further into a corner of the modest boat, its gaze brimming with unease while fixated on the faint green flame dancing on Lawrence.

Shifting his eyes down to his transformed body, Lawrence looked up again and asked, "Is it this flame that incites your terror? Or perhaps it's the latent power that this flame symbolizes?"

With a low grumble, Anomaly 077 retorted, "Isn't it self-evident?"

"I didn't anticipate an 'anomaly' such as yourself being aware of the reputation of the Vanished," Lawrence mused, "The intel on you suggested that you retain self-awareness and possess the capacity to interact with others even post your loss of control. Yet your consciousness seems far more advanced than initially assumed... Had you not been mummified, I might have even mistaken you for a human."

Seemingly resigned, Anomaly 077 lowered its head and fell silent.

However, Lawrence wasn't perturbed by 'Sailor's' reaction. He was faced with a plethora of mysteries to unravel, and one eccentric anomaly contradicting the pre-existing data seemed inconsequential in the grand scheme of things.

So much was still shrouded in uncertainty, so many secrets yearned to be discovered. When was the last time he had been engulfed by such exhilarating anticipation?

It seemed as though the thrill-seeking Lawrence had evaporated from the world when he took leave from the Black Oak. The enchantment of the unexplored, the allure of the remote, had receded into the realm of nostalgia until this moment...

Upon locking his gaze with the Black Oak once again, the dormant sense of adventure within Lawrence was stirred, rekindling in the heart of the seasoned seafarer.

Lifting his gaze, he found the intimidating silhouette of the Black Oak now looming mere meters away from their modest vessel. He steered their boat closer, halting at a location that triggered a distinct memory, and lightly tapped the ship's hull with his oar. This action elicited a response from above—a rope ladder was unfurled and lowered down.

Lawrence pivoted, his eyes seeking out Anomaly 077, who remained huddled in the boat's corner.

"The time has come to ascend the ship, Sailor."

With some hesitation, Anomaly 077 rose, bowing its head in surrender, "As you wish, Captain."