Chapter 1 The Return

Like a miniature city-state, the Ark's foundation bore a magnificent cathedral with a tall, pyramidal spire. Lights shone from between the multiple spires, illuminating the nearby sea. Towering structures and connecting corridors guarded the main cathedral, like giants standing at the edge of the Ark, guarding it. This was the Deep Sea Church's Pilgrimage Ark, and after lingering in the southern sea for many days, it had finally returned to the central Wulang Sea.

Helena stood on the terrace at the top of the Storm Cathedral's tower, gazing at the calm sea in the night. A middle-aged priest stood quietly beside her, head slightly bowed.

"The Goddess's condition seems to be deteriorating," Helena said suddenly. "Within the Wulang Sea, no one can hear a clear voice anymore."

"The Church of Death has also reported similar news," the middle-aged priest nodded. "And it is said that zombie riots have occurred in many city-states that have been shrouded in darkness for a long time—not just in the city-states protected by the Church of Death, but in other city-states as well."

Helena listened quietly, and after a long silence, sighed softly, tracing the symbol of the Storm Goddess on her chest—a fluctuating pattern with some mysterious meaning, but no corresponding explanation or record in the *Storm Codex*: "Death and Storm's order are fading from the entire world."

The middle-aged priest did not speak, but stood silently.

Helena glanced back at him, "Are many people wavering?"

"…Recently, more people have been going to the confessional and the missionary station for guidance, but overall, the situation on the Ark and in the Ark fleet is still good. The clergy still have unwavering faith. From the beginning, we knew that there would be times of decline in the world, and we are preparing for it—the weakening of the Goddess is a test we will face sooner or later."

The middle-aged priest paused here, and then added with some hesitation, "But in some more remote city-states…an atmosphere of unease is spreading. The chief priests may still maintain their faith, but they find it difficult to cope with the growing number of wavering believers and clergy."

"…Maintain order, cooperate with the city-state authorities' management and emergency measures. Even if prayer is ineffective, the power of steam and grease still exists, and we also have the unbetraying fire and steel," Helena said slowly. "Prove to the believers that no matter what happens to the Goddess, the Deep Sea Church will still firmly fulfill its duties—most importantly, shift everyone's attention from prayer to other things."

The middle-aged priest lowered his head deeply, "Yes."

Helena hummed in acknowledgement, but her gaze remained fixed on the distant sea, as she softly muttered to herself, "These days, I always feel that the sea looks a little strange… but when I come back to my senses, it all seems like an illusion."

The middle-aged priest raised his head, his face filled with confusion, "The sea… is something wrong with it?"

Helena frowned, and after a few seconds of silence, waved her hand, "No, it's nothing, just some nonsensical thoughts. You may withdraw, I have other things to do."

The priest obeyed the order and left. Helena stood on the terrace for a while longer, enjoying the sea breeze, and then turned and returned to the cathedral tower—she passed through a spiral descending staircase and a short corridor, entering the depths of the main cathedral building, and returned to her usual private prayer room.

The prayer room was brightly lit, with oil lamps in the walls and candlesticks in front of the altar quietly burning. In the brazier in front of the Goddess's statue, an unextinguished flame flickered. The illusory flame, like an almost transparent ghost, had a touch of unreality.

Helena came to the brazier and sprinkled spices and essential oils into the almost transparent flame. As the wisps of smoke rose, layers of whispers and murmurs suddenly appeared in her mind.

She faltered for a moment in those "noises" that seemed to pollute the soul, but quickly regained consciousness, and then spoke to the flame, "Freym, I want to talk to you."

The flame flickered a few times, and the voice of Freym, the Fire-Passer Pope, came from it, "Is it about the 'Archive'?"

Helena hummed in acknowledgement, "I know you have an Archive plan, and your Ark is sailing north… its destination is that frozen sea, isn't it?"

"That permanently frozen ice sheet is the most likely place to be preserved as a 'fragment' after the end of the world," Freym's voice sounded somewhat distorted in the flames. "Over the years, the Fire-Passers have been measuring the focal point of our world on the Wulang Sea to find the most stable part of history and the flow of time, and that focal point ultimately points to the north."

Helena hesitated for a moment, "Has the location been determined?"

"No, we can only confirm that it is in the north," Freym's voice was calm. "But we don't have much time to continue making accurate measurements. The survival rate of the priests who enter the historical cracks to measure the world is getting lower and lower, and I can't continue to risk them… Now I can only let the Ark sail north first, and I will personally determine the final location of that focal point."

Helena nodded lightly. She thought for a moment before breaking the silence, "I will send a fleet to find you. They will meet with you before the Fire-Passer Ark enters the Cold Sea—those ships will carry the most precious and important documents and materials that the Deep Sea Church has collected over the years."

The flames in the brazier crackled, and Freym's voice came after a long time, "Okay, I've reserved space for them all."

Helena took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, "Thank you."

"This is the duty of the Fire-Passers," the voice in the brazier said slowly.

In the backdrop of a uniformly grayish-white passageway, the *Lost郷* and the *Glittering Star* were floating as if sailing in endless nothingness. The featureless gray-white texture in all directions made it impossible to tell whether the two ships were moving forward. After staring at it for a long time, Duncan would even have the strange idea that the ship had stopped and the *Lost郷* had been permanently trapped in a stagnant space-time.

But he knew clearly that this ship was still sailing, sailing in the distorted and chaotic space-time structure beyond the border. The fragmented phantom of the *New Hope* faintly floated above the *Lost郷* and the *Glittering Star*. The occasional flickering of that phantom was proof that the "leap" was still in progress.

Alice stood on the bridge at the stern of the ship, her eyes unfocused as she stared ahead. She was still holding the helm tightly, but her expression was not as lively as usual, but carried a strange hollowness and coldness, like a true puppet.

Her consciousness was no longer in this body, but was integrated into the *Lost郷* and the *New Hope*, maintaining the stability of the jump channel.

Duncan went to the bridge to check Alice's condition, and then returned to the crew's cabin—in the dining room, Shirley was sitting at the table with a frown, stirring a bowl of thick soup with a spoon, the color and texture of which were a bit subtle.

After stirring for the umpteenth time, she finally raised her head with a look of embarrassment, and looked at Morris, who was sitting opposite her, "Or maybe I should be in charge of cooking next time?"

"No need, you are the youngest on this ship, it won't be your turn, no matter what," Morris waved his hand, and then his eyes were slightly curious, "Is my cooking not good?"

Shirley immediately shrank her neck, and unnaturally twitched the corners of her mouth, "Actually it's… okay."

Morris frowned upon seeing this, and tasted the soup he had just cooked, his eyes a little vacant.

"…I remember Heidi taught me to make vegetable mushroom soup like this…" the old scholar murmured with a blank look, "Which step went wrong?"

"Your steps are hard to say, but I can be sure that Heidi's vegetable mushroom soup is definitely not like this," Vanna, who was sitting on the other side of the table, looked at the soup bowl in front of her with a look of embarrassment. "Forget it, I'll cook next time, although the taste may not be that good, but at least… um, not so weird."

"I miss Alice's biscuits and fish soup a little bit," Nina muttered, "At least the taste of the soup itself is normal after scooping out the head…." Duncan walked into the restaurant at this time. When he heard the crew's resentful muttering, the expression on his face was a bit subtle: "You didn't give such a high evaluation when Alice usually cooks, but now that she's at the helm, you've reacted."

Vanna and others quickly got up to greet the captain when they saw him. Nina moved aside to say hello while sticking out her tongue, "I'll cook next time, I think the best craftsmanship here may be mine—I was in charge of cooking at the Plandt's house when I was seven years old."

Duncan laughed, sat down in his seat, and then looked at the food in front of him with the others with a look of embarrassment.

Expectant eyes came from all directions.

After a moment, he sighed, and snapped his fingers under the expectant gaze of the others.

An illusory flame rose on the opposite side of the dining table and condensed into a black mirror. In the mirror surface where the flames flowed, Lucrezia's figure gradually became clear. The witch was sitting on her own ship, in the dining room of the *Glittering Star*—with a sumptuous meal in front of her.

"Good afternoon, Father," Lucrezia smiled at this side, "And everyone, good afternoon."

Duncan thought for a while, and stretched his head to look at the cups and plates in front of Lucrezia, "Are you about to have lunch?"

"Yes," Lucrezia smiled and nodded. "Luni made baked apple pie, fried steak, cream of corn soup, and vegetable pancakes today—this salad was made by Neilu, although she is only one-third as tall as Luni, she has already started learning to help me with some things."

A small head popped out from the edge of the picture. The little puppet Neilu, who had recently become a formal crew member of the *Glittering Star*, leaned on the table and greeted this side of the mirror.

Shirley stretched her neck to look for a long time beside her, hesitatingly, "Is it delicious?"

"The taste is very good," Lucrezia looked at Shirley with a non-smiling expression. "Luni's craftsmanship has been recognized by famous chefs."

Shirley licked her lips, "Then…" Lucrezia continued to smile and watch, "Hmm?"

Duncan finally couldn't help sighing, and spread his hands, looking at the "witch" in the mirror, "No one is cooking on this ship—Alice is at the helm."

Lucrezia finally laughed out loud, and then quickly adjusted her sitting posture in a restrained and ladylike manner, sighing helplessly with a smile, "Come on, I prepared a lot originally… I knew this would happen."

As soon as the witch finished speaking, Duncan heard the sound of chairs moving around him. He looked up and saw that almost all of the crew members around him had stood up, followed by gazes falling on his side.

He spread his hands with a wry smile, "What are you looking at me for—go ahead, Aiyi will send you to the *Glittering Star*."

He said.

"Aren't you going with us?"

Nina asked curiously. "I have to stay here," Duncan waved his hand. "Alice is still at the helm, I'm not at ease leaving the ship—go ahead, the dishes over there will be cold in a while, just bring some back for me when you come back."

Shirley and Nina cheered immediately, and Lucrezia's voice then came from the mirror: "Bring your own tableware! I didn't prepare so much here… Shirley, put that basin down!"

Yuan Tong