Chapter 13 Martha

Martha disappeared as if she had never existed in the first place.

Yet the warm touch still lingered at his temples, the slightly lemony scent still lingered in his nostrils—she seemed to have never come, but never left.

Laurence felt his fingers trembling slightly. He lowered his head and tried several times to re-cap the small bottle, and it took him a long time to put it back in his pocket close to his body. He felt his heart pounding—even in a big storm, his heart had never beat like this.

Reason came late, like waking from a long dream. He realized that he had just brushed shoulders with madness, and had almost fallen into a state of continuous delusion. For a captain who had been drifting on the boundless sea for most of his life, once he fell into this state, it would be impossible to regain his sanity. But at this moment, he had neither the joy of surviving a disaster nor the lingering fear of facing madness.

He only felt a faint sadness and regret.

And this faint sadness and regret was even more of a warning sign—it meant that from the depths of his heart, he was no longer resistant to "madness" itself.

Laurence took a deep breath, trying to shake off the thoughts that entangled his reason. He glanced at his side. The White Oak was beneath his feet, and there was still a boatload of people waiting for him to take them back to Pland.

Now was not the time to fall into madness.

"I really should retire..." the old captain sighed, slowly taking a step towards the stairs in front of him, but he suddenly stopped after taking a few steps, with a hint of solemnity on his face.

He recalled the scene when "Martha" appeared just now—although he knew that this kind of "recall" was dangerous and could lead to the other party reappearing, he couldn't help but recall it, because he suddenly realized that some of the words "Martha" said to him were very concerning: "Laurence, be careful, you've come to the middle of the sea."

"If I were you, I wouldn't have any extra questions at this time, but would leave here immediately... Your vigilance has decreased..."

Laurence subconsciously repeated these two sentences in his heart. Although he knew that it was an illusion caused by his memory confusion and cognitive shaking, he couldn't help but regard these two sentences as a kind of warning—Martha might not exist, but did he feel some kind of danger in the depths of his intuition? Are these two sentences... a warning from his subconscious?

The old captain looked around and carefully observed the White Oak again. Everything he saw was normal. Then he raised his head and looked at Frost City-State next to him.

Frost City-State was also normal. The nearby port area looked peaceful and serene. The city area not far away had begun to light up, and further away, the tall sea cliff overlooked the sea, presenting a rigid and powerful outline in the dim sky.

But a faint sense of disharmony rose up, like a tide gradually rising in his heart, unstoppable. With the appearance of this sense of disharmony, Laurence suddenly heard the soft sound of waves in his ears—overlapping with the sound of waves around the White Oak. At first, he didn't distinguish it, but soon he realized that the sound was ringing directly in his mind.

The sound of waves... was it a warning? Was the blessing of the Storm Goddess Gamora taking effect?!

Laurence's eyes narrowed, and he immediately gave up his plan to go ashore, and suddenly turned around and rushed towards the bridge. The cold night wind howled past his ears, stimulating his nerves like a knife.

"Captain?" The first mate on duty on the bridge was stunned when he saw Laurence suddenly appear. He stood up from his chair and quickly came to the captain, "You weren't going ashore..."

"The situation has changed," Laurence said quickly. "I feel like something's wrong... How long have we been docked here? Did anyone sneak ashore?"

"No," the first mate said immediately. "You've ordered everyone to stay on the ship, and everyone is being quite honest. Also, we've been docked here for several hours."

"It's good that no one went ashore," Laurence nodded quickly, then glanced at the direction of the helm, "Ignite the steam core, we're leaving this port."

"Ah... ah?" The first mate didn't react for a moment. "Leave this port? We just..."

Laurence interrupted him before he could finish speaking: "Something's wrong with this place. I can't explain it, but I feel very bad. Remember when the observatory had problems before? And earlier, when we couldn't contact Frost? Since then, everyone's vigilance has decreased. Something... is affecting all of us."

He spoke quickly, and at the same time, he knew how abnormal the order he was giving was—apart from a sense of unease in his intuition, he had no evidence to prove the correctness of his order, and the White Oak had just experienced a long voyage. Both people and machines needed to rest at this time. In this case, his order to leave port was like nonsense.

What's more, leaving the port required coordination with the port authorities. Re-igniting the steam core without reporting it was a serious violation of regulations, and he had to take responsibility for his decision.

But the intense warning signs were jumping in his heart, and the increasingly strong sound of waves was echoing in his mind. Gamora's blessing was warning him not to continue contacting the "port" in any way, not even to say another word.

The first mate stared at the captain in front of him. After nearly half a minute, he suddenly stood up straight and said loudly, "Yes, Captain!"

On the ship, the captain's words were law.

A captain who had lost his mind could cause the entire ship to be buried with him—but in a higher probability, an experienced captain would save a boatload of people from crisis.

The order was quickly passed to the entire ship, and the confused sailors were urged to take action, and soon they were ready to set sail again in conditioned reflex-like proficiency.

New boiling-gold catalysts were put into the steam core, and a low mechanical vibration sound awakened deep within the White Oak. The sailors quietly released the mooring ropes on the side of the ship and retracted the gangplank onto the deck. Laurence stood on the bridge, carefully observing the movement on the pier through the wide glass boat—

Some figures were moving on the pier. In the dim gas light, those figures were blurred and unreal. Some loading and unloading vehicles drove past a little further away, leaving long and thick projections on the road.

They didn't seem to notice that a ship had re-ignited the steam core in the night, and no "thing" suddenly appeared to intercept the White Oak, which was preparing to leave quietly.

The situation was better than expected. In Laurence's worst guess, he even worried that the moment the steam core was re-ignited, hundreds of thousands of sea monster tentacles would suddenly appear in the surrounding sea water, dragging the White Oak directly into the water.

"Maintain light control, do not sound the whistle," Laurence said quickly to the first mate next to him, then stepped to the helm and took the wheel himself. "I'll steer myself—keep the boiler at high pressure, and be ready to overload at any time."

"Yes, Captain."

Although there were still doubts in their hearts, everyone on the ship carried out the old captain's orders without hesitation. Laurence could feel that the steel behemoth beneath his feet was slowly moving.

The entire ship maintained a state of light control, the underwater propellers began to rotate, and the White Oak was gradually leaving the port. The sound of seawater being stirred up sounded, and everyone became nervous. Everyone's eyes were on the city-state shrouded in the night next to them.

Laurence felt that his palms were full of sweat.

But the city-state still had no abnormal reaction—even though the White Oak's movement could no longer be concealed, no one came to check the situation.

He looked at the radio communication station next to him again, and the telegraph machine was as silent as death.

In theory, the port affairs bureau should have sent an emergency communication at this time, and the on-duty port officials would question the reason for the White Oak's sudden departure—but nothing happened.

This strengthened Laurence's confidence and made him think that his judgment was correct.

Something was really wrong with this place!

The power of the steam core was increased by one level, and the speed of the propellers gradually increased. The White Oak was leaving the dock area faster and faster, and the open sea began to appear directly in front of the bridge, with shimmering waves on the water.

Laurence took a deep breath and gripped the wheel tightly: "Increase to full speed!"

A gray wind swept through the courtyard and condensed in the front hall of the cathedral. Agatha's figure stepped out of the gray wind. She quickly passed through the porch and the hall, and came to the "Meditation Sanctuary" where the city-state bishop Ivan was.

The statue of the death god Bartok stood quietly at the end of the sanctuary. The black coffin lay horizontally on the platform at the foot of the statue. The lid of the coffin was open, and Bishop Ivan, who usually rested in the coffin, was standing aside, looking up at Agatha.

The bishop, who was wrapped in bandages like a mummy, with only one eye exposed, was wearing a black robe with gold trim today. He held a scepter in his hand. After Agatha approached, he took the initiative to speak: "I've already heard about Dagger Island."

"It seems that you are going to preside over the meeting yourself," Agatha nodded, but she was a little worried, "Can your body handle it?"

Bishop Ivan raised his hand, and between the gaps in the bandages, it seemed that gray-white mist was slowly drifting out.

"It's enough if one of the body and will can handle it."