Chapter 118

Amidst the thunder of cannon fire, an eerie, twin-hulled ghost ship had brazenly cut across the battlefield, right under the noses of both warring factions. Tilian suspected that even the "counterfeit" warships lurking in the depths of the dense fog were stunned for a few seconds.

Then, he heard Aiden's voice from the side: "Captain... Captain, that one that just sped past also seemed to come from the fog. Should we... engage?"

On the bridge, all eyes turned to their captain, the words he had spoken just moments ago still fresh in everyone's minds:

After the start of the war, anything new that appeared in this sea area was an enemy.

"...Engage my ass!" After a few seconds of awkward silence, Tilian finally glared and roared, "Could we even catch up?! And didn't you see the ship's shadow in the water?"

Aiden immediately shrank his neck, a glint of light reflecting off his bald head. He hesitated before saying, "I saw it. The shadow... seemed to be entwined with spirit fire."

No sooner had the first mate spoken than a low rumble echoed from deep within the Sea Fog's hull, and the ship's whistle suddenly blared from the deck—the former flagship of the Forsaken Fleet, modified with supernatural power, seemed to be responding on its own, confirming the first mate's judgment.

"Even the ship senses it," Aiden said, looking around with a complicated expression. "Captain, what do you think that ship was?"

"...Perhaps it was Father's arrangement," Tilian said solemnly. "Don't delve too deeply, continue the battle. Also, notify all allied forces, including the Frost Navy, not to obstruct that strange...

"Forget it, at that speed..."

He was only halfway through his sentence when the sailor monitoring the radio suddenly received a message, stood up, and reported loudly: "Captain! The Frost Navy's Sea Owl is contacting us, saying that a ghost ship, incredibly fast and bizarre in appearance, suddenly sped past them, heading straight for Frost Island. They're asking if it's one of ours."

Tilian pinched the bridge of his nose wearily. After a moment, he waved his hand and said, "Don't mention the Forsaken to them.

"Just say it's an allied ship, no further explanation. After the situation stabilizes a bit, I'll go ask 'Him' to confirm things."

"Yes, Captain!"

The cannon fire roared, and the fire and explosions in the fog did not abate in the slightest due to this brief interlude. Amid the towering waterspouts in the distance, Tilian's pensive gaze pierced through the fog of the combat zone, silently watching the direction the strange ship had disappeared.

"I think we just hit something!"

Lawrence hurried back to his desk from the porthole, loudly addressing the small mirror placed on it. Then, uneasily, he looked outside again. The sea outside the porthole was dark and hazy, as if countless shadowy, illusory things were floating on the surface, making it impossible to distinguish reality from illusion.

And the White Oak was traveling through those phantoms at an astonishing speed.

A cloud of black mist surged in the mirror, and the female adventurer in her captain's uniform appeared in the mist.

"We didn't hit anything," Martha said with a cheerful smile. "We just almost hit something."

"Almost hitting is terrifying enough!" Lawrence picked up the small mirror and, heading towards the window, said quickly, "I didn't notice it when there were no references—what speed are we going at?!"

"Very fast, very, very fast—an intangible and immaterial phantom, able to cross the waves like the wind," Martha said with a smile, looking into Lawrence's eyes through the mirror. "Do you remember what you said to me many years ago? You said you wanted to transform the White Oak and the Black Oak into the best vanguard exploration ships, and then sail with me, skimming across the sea like the wind... My love, we're doing at least seven to eight knots."

"That was a metaphor! A metaphor!" Lawrence's eyes held a hint of terror because, as he spoke, he watched another massive phantom almost brush past the porthole before hurtling towards the rear. The phantom's bridge was towering, and the turrets on the ship's side were pointing into the distance. It was engaged in a fierce battle with enemies in another dimension, and the White Oak-Black Oak seemed to have charged straight out of its main gun's muzzle.

After a moment, Lawrence raised his hand to tap his forehead and sighed. "Forget it, as long as you can guarantee our safety. What's the situation outside?"

"We are crossing a combat zone," Martha said in a gentle and calm tone.

"A combat zone? Who's fighting?"

Martha turned her head in the mirror, as if observing the situation on her side. After a moment, she turned back her gaze: "The Frost Navy from the real world, and that famous Sea Fog Fleet. Their opponents are the counterfeits that have risen from the mirror world into reality."

Lawrence's heart sank, and his expression became grave. "...The final moment has arrived?"

"It seems so," Martha said softly. "The mirror is merging with the real world. The final 'inversion' process has begun."

"Why so fast? Didn't you say this process wouldn't happen so soon?"

"I can only make general predictions, Lawrence—after breaking free from the ranks of the counterfeits, my connection with this mirror world has been rapidly weakening. I don't know what happened, but clearly someone has consciously accelerated the process of mirror inversion..."

Lawrence didn't speak for a moment, just looked out the window, at the hazy, chaotic sea and the fleeting, ethereal phantoms. After a few seconds, he suddenly asked, "Are we still sailing in the mirror sea?"

"Yes, we are still trapped in this mirror world," Martha nodded. "But the barrier between the mirror and the real world is blurring—we don't have much time left."

"If the inversion is truly completed, what will happen?" Lawrence asked.

"A city-state becomes a breeding ground for the descent of an ancient god. What do you think will happen?" Martha asked calmly.

Lawrence subconsciously pressed his temples.

"...Damn it, how far are we from Frost Island?"

"We're almost there," Martha raised her hand in the mirror, pointing towards the window. "I can already see the lights of the port area on my side. Countless ships are gathering in the surrounding sea, the shipwrecks of the past half-century, countless copies—but they're ignoring the Black Oak, at least for now."

Lawrence nodded with a serious expression. He picked up the mirror he used to talk to Martha, pushed open the door, and left his captain's cabin, walking towards the bridge while asking in a deep voice, "What do you need me to do when we arrive at Frost Island?"

"Find their nest—the power used to create and maintain this mirror world is deep within Frost Island. I can sense its approximate location," Martha's constant smile turned serious. She looked into Lawrence's eyes and said in an especially earnest tone, "And once you start looking for it, the counterfeits entrenched around the city-state should react immediately. I'll try to hold them back."

"...Can just the Black Oak and White Oak handle it? You just said there are countless ships gathering..."

"We are members of the Forsaken Fleet, Lawrence," Martha's lips curved into a smile again. "And we're not the only ones participating in this battle."

Lawrence quickly reacted, looking thoughtfully towards the corridor window.

The shadowy, massive ship silhouettes were fighting on the distant sea. As time passed, the boundary between the mirror and reality was blurring further. Soon, this entire sea area, including Mirror Frost and Real Frost, would be ablaze.

"I understand," Lawrence nodded, withdrawing his gaze from the window and continuing to walk quickly towards the bridge. "But there's one last question. I can lead the team into Frost Island, but how are we going to deal with that... thing deep within the city-state? If it's truly as you say, an ancient god or part of an ancient god, then ordinary weapons probably won't work."

He reached the bridge.

Lawrence steeled himself and pushed open the door.

His first mate, second mate, the ship's priest, his crew—they were all waiting for him here.

And that strange and peculiar Anomaly 077-Sailor—the corpse had found a White Oak crew hat from somewhere and was wearing it on his head. At this moment, he was sitting in a chair, looking curiously and intently at the other crew members at work.

Lawrence walked towards them, and the crew members stood up to salute him.

Martha's voice came from the mirror: "You will have helpers."

Lawrence was returning the crew's salutes when he heard this and looked at Martha in the mirror in surprise. "Helpers?"

"Yes, helpers—for many years, they have been fighting in the depths of this mirror world, trying to break through the door leading to the deepest part of the city-state, but they have never succeeded. Go find them, you don't need to explain your intentions, they will naturally become your assistance... probably."

"Probably?!"

"Because I'm not sure what kind of existence they are, not sure if they can even communicate with people—Lawrence, you know, although I've been wandering here for many years, I haven't had much freedom."

"Alright, I understand, helpers," Lawrence sighed, then his tone inevitably became curious. "I thought we were the only ones fighting the 'counterfeits' around here, didn't expect there were others. Who are they?"

"They call themselves... the Queen's Guard."