Chapter 1 A Disturbed Mind

"Feeling uneasy?" Upon hearing Agatha's response, Bishop Ivan's tone noticeably changed. He stared intently into Agatha's eyes. "For a Saint, 'feeling uneasy' is not a good sign... What happened? When did this start?"

"It began after returning from that contaminated sewage treatment center," Agatha didn't hide anything, knowing the old Bishop before her was the most trustworthy person in the entire city-state. "I feel like I've forgotten something, like... I left something behind there, but I've replayed the events that occurred there countless times, and I haven't found anything amiss."

"That sewage treatment center..." Bishop Ivan's voice was low and somber. Of course, he knew what Agatha was talking about. The incident had been immediately reported to the Grand Cathedral and City Hall, and the subsequent investigation and purification efforts were still underway. "I've also been following this matter—the surviving manager is still undergoing treatment in the mental hospital. The whereabouts of the original dozen employees of the treatment center remain unknown, and according to the on-site sampling reports, you should have already purified the entire facility's contamination—theoretically, there shouldn't be any hidden dangers left behind."

"But I still feel uneasy," Agatha confessed. "Although there's no evidence, I must have overlooked something."

"...Have you checked your mental state? What were the results of your cognitive calibration?"

"Of course, I've checked," Agatha nodded. "Whether it was self-cognitive calibration or subconscious examination with the help of a psychiatrist, I've done it all. No problems were found."

Bishop Ivan didn't speak for a moment. After a few seconds, he broke the silence with a thoughtful tone. "Then it's possible that your own 'inner self' is issuing a warning—perhaps from your subconscious, perhaps from your clairvoyance, or even from your faith."

"I'll return there to confirm," Agatha nodded. "Before that, I'll go to the prayer room to pray for a while—I hope the Lord can give me some guidance."

Bishop Ivan nodded slightly. "Go, I hope prayer can ease your troubles."

Agatha hummed in agreement, got up, and left the platform where the spirit coffin was placed. After a moment, she disappeared outside the doors of the Meditation Sanctuary.

The spacious sanctuary was silent for a moment, with only the mummy-like Bishop Ivan still sitting on the edge of the spirit coffin. He looked in the direction Agatha had left, seemingly lost in thought. After who knows how long, he sighed softly and reached out to trace the triangular emblem of Bartok, the God of Death, on his chest. "May the Lord guide..."

In the silent Meditation Sanctuary, candlesticks embedded in the alcoves burned quietly. In the soundless flickering of the flames, the mirror-like polished black marble floor reflected the light from the candlesticks. Around those dancing flames, many vague phantoms seemed to flicker and disappear.

Outside Frostwind City, on the border of the near-sea area, a patrol ship flying the flag of the Frostwind Navy was patrolling the sea according to its designated route.

A naval commander came to the bow deck, frowning as he looked at the distant sea. The cold light of the World Scar sprinkled down from the sky, causing the rippling waves on the sea to shimmer with a trace of paleness, and among those waves, one could occasionally see pieces of floating ice, large and small. Those pieces of floating ice drifted in an orderly direction in the distance, vaguely forming an invisible "borderline."

The commander, of course, knew what those seemingly naturally formed "floating ice" were—they were actually not "floating ice fragments" at all, but a part of the Sea Fog Fleet.

That was the floating ice around the Sea Fog. When that cursed ghost ship appeared on the sea, such floating ice would appear around it. They symbolized the "sphere of influence" of that pirate captain and also embodied the cursed power of the Sea Fog—any ship that rashly approached the Sea Fog without permission would first be baptized by those "floating ice." Those that were lucky would be hindered in their movements, while those that were unlucky would be directly frozen on the sea, with everyone on board turning into souls trapped in ice.

The Sea Fog often used this method to block waterways, intercept merchant ships passing through its sphere of influence, and collect so-called "floating ice disposal service fees"—in most cases, that ship didn't even need to fire its cannons to complete this despicable extortion.

Of course, the Sea Fog Fleet had temporarily resolved its hostile relationship with the Frostwind Navy. Those floating ice wouldn't actively spread to the heads of the naval patrol ships, but their existence was a deterrent in itself, and the meaning it conveyed was clear:

Even if this was Frostwind's doorstep, anything further ahead was the Sea Fog Fleet's territory.

The commander wearing the Frostwind Navy uniform sighed through gritted teeth, trying to calm his mind.

The big picture was important, and soldiers should obey their superiors' judgment—the city-state needed safety, and that safety required the Sea Fog Fleet.

The blockade of the entire sea area was paramount.

"The sea is getting foggy again," a junior officer came to the deck, grumbling as he looked at the distance. "It's foggy almost every day."

The patrol ship commander raised his head and looked at the sea ahead.

As the subordinate said, the sea was getting foggy. Slow, gauze-like mist was gradually condensing on the sea and spreading around that "floating ice boundary." The light of the World Scar permeated the mist, making it appear a ghastly white.

"It's probably brought by the Sea Fog again," the commander frowned. "Wherever that ship goes, floating ice and mist follow."

"The Sea Fog hasn't moved from its position," the subordinate said. "Maybe that 'Pirate General' just wants to show off his presence?"

"No matter what he thinks," the commander shook his head. "We shouldn't approach places with fog and floating ice—Frostwind can't be the first to break the agreement."

"Yes, sir."

The commander hummed in agreement, then looked at the fog in the distance again, a hint of doubt in his expression. "But then again... Isn't the fog a little thicker than usual tonight?"

The subordinate followed his superior's gaze and saw that the fog surrounding the floating ice was indeed expanding and seemed denser than usual, and in the depths of the increasingly thick fog, something seemed to be swaying.

"The fog is really getting thicker..." the junior officer muttered. "Is there something in the fog?"

"...Something's not right."

As the patrol ship commander spoke, his expression suddenly changed. He quickly picked up his binoculars and looked in the direction of the dense fog. After a moment of careful distinction, he finally confirmed that there was indeed something swaying in the dense fog—a large object that was approaching.

It was a ship!

"It's a ship, a ship sailing from the Sea Fog Fleet's patrol area," the commander said quickly. "Send a light signal—the Sea Fog Fleet has crossed the line, tell them to stop immediately."

"Yes, sir!"

The junior officer responded loudly and quickly ran to the back of the deck. After a while, the large searchlights installed on the upper deck of the patrol ship lit up and sent a series of light signals toward the dense fog.

However, the approaching silhouette in the dense fog showed no signs of slowing down.

The patrol ship commander stared intently at the vague shadow in the fog, watching as the other ship not only didn't slow down, but accelerated toward them. As it approached, even the fog on the surrounding sea seemed to spread consciously—in a short period of time, the surging fog had spread to within a hundred meters of the patrol ship, even threatening to surround the ship from all directions!

"Damn pirates!"

The patrol ship commander couldn't help but curse inwardly. He turned around and quickly ran to the bridge, shouting as he rushed to the helm, "Reverse, turn! That thing is crashing straight into us—has the Sea Fog Fleet responded?"

"No response to the light signals! No response to short-range calls!" The soldier in front of the console next to him shouted. "We're calling the Sea Fog using the agreed-upon frequency, but there's still no response... Wait, there's a response!"

The communication light on the console suddenly lit up, and the automatic recording machine began to clatter. A long strip of punched paper was continuously ejected from the machine. The communications soldier quickly picked up the paper tape and distinguished the marks on it. After a moment, he raised his head blankly. "The Sea Fog Fleet says they haven't crossed the line—all their ships are in their original positions."

"All in their original positions?"

The patrol ship commander's eyes widened, then he suddenly raised his head and looked outside the porthole—the dense fog had already enveloped the bow of the patrol ship. Although the helmsman was trying to turn, it was clear that the ship's speed couldn't keep up with the spread of the strange fog. In the surging fog, the hazy shadow was getting closer and closer.

"Turn, hard to port, turn!"

The patrol ship tilted violently. The steam core roared hoarsely. The rudder and the side thrusters worked together, driving the ship to turn in the fog with a force that seemed to want to tear the whole ship apart. In a series of violent shaking and noises, the patrol ship commander gripped the railing beside him tightly and stared at the scene outside the porthole—

In the suddenly broken fog, a huge ship rushed out almost grazing the patrol ship's guardrail.

It was not a member of the Frostwind Navy, nor was it a member of the Sea Fog—it was an old battleship from a bygone era, with a mottled, rusted hull and an outdated bow structure that seemed to silently tell the story of the years it had experienced.

The patrol ship commander stared dumbfounded as the huge ship brushed past his patrol ship. After several seconds, he suddenly reacted and recalled an illustration and record he had seen in an old document—

"It's the 'Warrior', sunk forty years ago..."