Chapter 23 Interesting Phenomena

Duncan strolled to the edge of the White Oak's deck, peering down at the sea below.

Both the White Oak and the Vanishing Line had exited the spirit realm. On the calm, azure surface of the normal sea, the water around the White Oak was as clear as a mirror. The Black Oak, shrouded in mist and darkness, was reflected in the water like a shadow. Faint lights flickered within the depths of the dark, hazy reflection of the ship.

After a long while, Duncan finally retracted his gaze from the ocean, a hint of emotion in his voice as he spoke softly, "An interesting phenomenon, Laurence. You've experienced an incredible adventure."

"Indeed… incredible," Laurence replied, standing respectfully and cautiously at his side. "I've made my living on these seas for decades and have witnessed many unbelievable things, but what happened with Frost is still far beyond anything I've ever seen. But regardless, I brought Martha back. All the adventures were worth it."

"Your wife, Martha—what is her state now? And how did the two ships you each control establish a connection?"

"She and her Black Oak are now like the shadow of the White Oak," Laurence replied honestly. "As you can see, she's on that reflected ship. But when the situation requires it, the Black Oak can also enter the real world in phantom form, sailing alongside the White Oak, or the two ships can perform a light-shadow inversion. In that case, we can navigate the depths of the spirit realm, avoiding obstacles in the real world—we did it once when passing through the Frost war zone. It worked very well."

"Your wife told you all this? I mean, these… techniques."

"Yes," Laurence nodded. "Martha wandered in the mirrored space beneath the Frost Sea for over a decade. She knows many things. During our previous actions, she served as our guide."

Duncan remained silent for a moment, simply watching the reflection below. After a long time, he suddenly broke the silence, "Can I speak with her alone?"

Laurence was stunned, a hint of surprise appearing on his face, followed by nervousness and hesitation. "This… may I ask…"

"Don't worry, I just need to understand each of my subordinates. The Black Oak is indeed somewhat strange, but on these seas, no ship is stranger than the Vanishing Line. I'm very tolerant in this regard—provided that the Black Oak has no secrets."

Laurence visibly relaxed, though still hesitant, he nodded. "Alright, I'll arrange it and tell Martha."

Duncan nodded slightly, then glanced at a spot not far away.

Alice and "Sailor" were squatting on the deck over there, enthusiastically poking at a small bug they'd caught from somewhere with small wooden sticks, engaging in a heated discussion about whether the bug had a soul—

Alice thought it didn't, because she couldn't see the lines on the bug. "Sailor" insisted it did, because he'd heard that Bartok's garden also had bugs, and he even believed there were "little gatekeepers" as big as bugs, specifically responsible for taking the souls of mosquitoes that died in the mortal world to the resting place in the summer to bite those buried in June and July…

…Both "people" were stunned by the other's words. The scene looked like two idiots.

Just one more look would feel like brain pollution.

Duncan silently watched the undisturbed scene on the deck. Laurence also watched in silence beside him. After a long time, Duncan shook his head, "Let them play."

"…I think so too. It's better than continuing to hang on the flagpole and wail like ghosts."

Soon, Laurence had someone prepare a private room on the White Oak, and a large mirror was set up in the room.

After the irrelevant personnel left, Duncan turned around and quietly stared at the life-sized mirror. "I want to talk to you," he said to the mirror.

The next moment, the mirror surface turned pitch black, as if a thick, ink-like fluid suddenly covered the entire surface, and a fluctuating shadow gradually formed a contour in the depths of the darkness.

A woman wearing a white shirt, brown vest, and trousers emerged from the fluctuating shadows.

"Laurence told me you wanted to speak with me alone," the woman replied calmly, meeting Duncan's gaze in the mirror. "It seems… you noticed."

"There are too many impurities, repeated overlapping shadows obscuring the details that don't belong to the Black Oak, but that's not enough to fool my flames," Duncan said slowly. He reached for a chair from the side and sat down, looking at the figure in the mirror—and the vast darkness behind that figure, intertwined like some phantom veil. "How much of you is 'Martha'?"

"…Less than one-thousandth."

"One-thousandth, a very small number," Duncan stared at her, and the vast, chaotic "mixture" met his gaze unflinchingly. "Even so, you still claim to be Martha, and it seems… you really have a 'self-identification' with this identity."

"Because 'Martha' is the only complete personality among them," the "female adventurer" in the mirror replied. "Without the support of a personality, memories are just pale scrolls. Reading them is not enough to form a 'self'. The vast, muddled memories have been reorganized countless times in blind disorder. Finally, I believe 'Martha' is the only 'representative' who can manage everything—I need to become Martha, Martha needs to exist."

"So, you're a hybrid. You've mixed things far more than you told Laurence. A significant portion of the minds that fell into that sea over the past fifty years have flowed into your 'body,' or to put it another way… did you devour those minds?"

"Devour… that's a very aggressive way of putting it, but I don't think so. I've never devoured anything, and I'm not interested in souls. It's the vast power in the depths of that mirrored space that devours everything, and the 'memories' that make me up are just the remnants left after that vast power crushed them. Small tributaries will gather together, like dust agglomerating into a ball. I don't exist prior to those fragments, but rather those fragments coalesced into me—Martha, just a ghost awakened from the fragments, belatedly taking on the role of a collector."

"Remnants left after being crushed…" Duncan frowned. "Why wasn't Martha crushed?"

"Because Laurence came to this sea," the female adventurer in the mirror smiled slightly. "He is favored by you, so Martha is also favored by you."

Duncan didn't speak, falling into a long period of thought. After a long time, he broke the silence thoughtfully, "…The world in the mirror is discontinuous…"

"Yes, the world in the mirror is discontinuous. Space is discontinuous, and time is also discontinuous—the ending is born before the beginning. You created Martha, and Martha is now answering your questions."

Duncan breathed a slight sigh.

"A vast data hybrid… that can explain why you know so many things," he brought the topic back. "It's not just because you've wandered in that mirrored space for a long enough time, but also because you've accommodated enough 'memories'… So, returning to the original topic, is less than one-thousandth of 'Martha' really enough to support your stable personality and allow you to always maintain your current self-awareness? Will there be a day when you, this 'collector' personality, will be submerged in that vast sea of memories? Will you forget your name and become a chaotic, vast, dangerous wraith?"

The female adventurer raised her eyes, seemingly summoning great courage in her calm expression. "Like you once were?"

"No, I went further than you did back then. The sub-space is a deeper and darker place than the mirrored world—therefore, I was also more dangerous than you are now," Duncan didn't mind the other party's bold statement, maintaining his usual calm tone. "So, I understand better how much harm an out-of-control wraith can cause—even if this wraith is a little 'safer' than I was back then."

The female adventurer in the mirror fell silent for a moment.

After a long time, she suddenly spoke. "Do you think I can be considered 'Martha' now?" Duncan pondered for a few seconds.

For this vast, complex hybrid, Martha was only one-thousandth of it, but for the personality that identified itself as "Martha," what was contained in this hybrid was one hundred percent her.

Who this vast hybrid actually "was," and what state its future personality would be in, seemed to be completely in a "pending" state—there was a probability of it going out of control, but its current personality and self-awareness undoubtedly existed.

Duncan hesitated briefly, but just as this hint of hesitation arose, a scene that was both real and illusory suddenly appeared in his mind—

The sea breeze was gentle, the waves were calm.

He stood on the water, azure waves spreading beneath his feet.

Fish leaped out of the water in the brilliant sunlight, swimming in the surrounding air, circling leisurely. He lowered his head, looking at his feet.

The gently rippling water surface looked clear and transparent, but its depths seemed to be shrouded in mist, indistinguishable from reality, difficult to see through.

New things leaped out of the water again, swimming and circling around him. They were fish.

Duncan suddenly woke up, looking at the mirror in front of him.

The shadows in the mirror fluctuated and wriggled, as if waiting for an answer.

"…Ms. Martha," after a long time, Duncan finally broke the silence, "Welcome to the Vanishing Line Fleet."

That group of darkness filled with chaos and disorder, completely lacking any tangible outline, fluctuating and unstable, suddenly contracted, transforming again into the female adventurer wearing a white shirt, brown vest, and trousers.

The complex shadows behind her had calmed down.

At the same time, on the deck of the White Oak, Laurence, who was watching the doll Alice and the mummified "Sailor" poking at bugs like a temporary guardian, also looked down at his body in confusion.

Those uncontrolled, rising, and spreading green flames were rapidly converging. His body, which had been passively maintained in a ghost form since three days ago, was also rapidly recovering. And in his perception, those "ghost flames" that would occasionally be activated for inexplicable reasons seemed to have truly gained peace for the first time, becoming a controllable part of his body.

It seemed that a "stimulus" that caused the spirit flames to be frequently and passively activated had suddenly disappeared. "…Controlled?"

Laurence blinked, muttering to himself in confusion.