Chapter 1 The Beginning

A towering steel warship was sailing on the vast sea, a thin, drifting, cold mist swirling and rising within hundreds of meters around it—this mist was like a curse clinging to the Sea Fog, as if it originated from the frozen northern seas. Even though the warship was now in the relatively warmer central waters, the cold within the mist remained stubbornly persistent.

On the deck of the steel warship, six triple-mounted giant main guns and dozens of large and small secondary guns were in a state of readiness. Undead sailors, wreathed in chilling air, were moving busily between the various facilities, preparing for a possible battle.

Below the warship's deck, the ammunition depot's elevators were clattering as they continuously transported propellant charges and shells into the turret transfer chambers. Sailors operated the pipeline hubs in various locations, checking the flow and pressure of sacred steam and grease throughout the ship.

At the stern of the warship, a small church had already lit its independent boiler. Steam pipes on the church's roof were spewing bursts of vapor into the sky. Accompanied by the church's whistle, the scent of incense mixed with the steam, gradually enveloping the entire deck.

An undead priest in somber robes stood in the prayer room of the shipborne church, solemnly lighting incense and candles before the statue of the Goddess. The priest, with his dry, pale skin, appeared ancient. One side of his skull was concave, and the corresponding half of his body had a bizarre, wet appearance, as if still submerged in seawater. In his eyes, the whites seemed to eternally brew two dark clouds, vaguely reflecting the flickering candlelight before the Goddess' statue.

Before this priest was the statue of the Storm Goddess Gomona—the goddess who protected every ship on the boundless sea, even if that ship was manned by the dead. The statue's base was situated atop a massive pipe, with numerous smaller pipes resembling blood vessels spreading around it and extending throughout the church. The lower part was deeply buried within the ship's hull, piercing through layers of cabins, reaching all the way to the ballast tank—the darkest, coldest chamber directly connected to the boundless sea.

A fully equipped shipborne church, a separate church boiler, and sacred steam pipes running through all decks—these were standard features on every warship that needed to sail and fight for extended periods on the boundless sea since the great military technology revolution of 1835. These facilities could effectively prevent a ship from experiencing spiritual pollution in high-pressure, harsh, and continuously casualty-ridden combat environments, or from being captured by the subspace due to the collective mental breakdown of the sailors.

From a certain perspective, the beginning of that technological revolution in 1835 could even be traced back thirty-five years, all the way to the "Lost Home" incident in 1800—the most advanced exploration ship and the most outstanding explorers in human history directly plunged into the subspace after a long voyage. This directly stimulated everyone concerned with the field of navigation.

The priest withdrew his gaze from the statue, but couldn't help but dwell on the thoughts related to the Lost Home and the shipborne church before him.

His cold, numb brain and his heart, which had stopped beating for half a century, were restless due to the impending events.

"May you protect us," the priest lowered his head, praying devoutly to the goddess, "We will confront the shadows of the subspace head-on, please witness..."

Suddenly, the electric bell beside him rang, and a small light flickered in front of the communication station.

The priest went to the communication station and opened the copper tube corresponding to the small light: "This is the church... Yes, grease and steam are present, the blessing has arrived."

On the bridge, Tyrian Abnormal, captain of the Sea Fog, stood quietly at the captain's seat, gazing at the seemingly calm sea in the distance.

His eye sockets were slightly sore, and disturbing, low murmurs echoed in his mind. Beside him was an exquisitely complex brass device, consisting of numerous interlocking gears, several delicate compasses, and many circular tracks. At its center was a hemispherical bowl supported by three copper pillars.

At this moment, the small bowl contained about one-third full of fresh blood. The blood was churning as if boiling, and the entire brass device was constantly fine-tuning the angles of its gears and compasses in tremors, with several pointers pointing far into the distance.

First Mate Aiden walked over from the side and nodded to Tyrian, saying, "Captain, all units are ready. The church just sent feedback, the Goddess has bestowed her blessing."

"...The Lost Home is ahead," Tyrian murmured to himself, then glanced back at the brass device beside him, "I think 'he' should feel me too."

First Mate Aiden's gaze also fell on the brass device, especially on the boiling blood.

The pale-skinned, bald man said in a low voice, "The Bloodseeking Compass will guide those with shared bloodlines to reunite, but this item never brings good luck and reunion... It only points to slaughter and desolation."

"Fitting for this occasion," Tyrian said calmly. At the edge of his vision, a vague black spot seemed to be faintly emerging, "...It's really coming, pointing straight to Prunnd."

"We can open fire," the first mate couldn't help but remind him, "Actually, we could have done it just now."

"...No, get closer, only close-range fire will do," Tyrian shook his head, "We tried it once half a century ago, and shelling from a distance will never hit the Lost Home. That ship is affected by some kind of spacetime distortion, and the connection between it and the real dimension is fragmented and misplaced."

Aiden lowered his head: "...Yes, the Sea Fog will continue to advance."

...

Duncan put down the monocular telescope in his hand, reattached it to his waist, and continued to grip the helm tightly.

He saw the ship.

The Sea Fog, its name befitting it, was surrounded by a thin layer of icy mist, which didn't look like a normal phenomenon.

But what really surprised him was not the icy mist that seemed to be related to paranormal phenomena, but the ship itself—it was a steel warship that looked very advanced, with heavy armor, towering smokestacks, a rationally structured and impressive bridge structure, and advanced multi-barreled turrets reminiscent of battleship main guns.

All of this didn't seem like something a ship from a century ago could be equipped with—even if it was modified, it was hard to imagine how a sailing ship could be converted into this appearance.

This reminded him of some rumors he had heard about the Sea Fog and the Brilliant Star when he was inquiring in the city-states.

For example, Tyrian's warship would devour the metal on the seabed and the remains of the defeated, and it would grow and transform itself in the dead of night when no one was watching.

Now it seemed that the birth of these rumors was reasonable—it was as if you wanted to explain why a Type 59 tank suddenly made a faster-than-light jump, and you could only say that the machine spirit was very happy...

Duncan shook his head, temporarily casting aside the outlandish thoughts in his mind.

The Sea Fog had no intention of retreating and seemed to be ready for battle. The Lost Home had no time to detour, and a head-on confrontation seemed unavoidable.

He didn't understand naval warfare, but theoretically, he didn't need to worry about the battle—the cannons on the Lost Home could handle everything that followed on their own.

He was just a little... dazed, with a bit of tension and... anticipation in his dazed state.

Tyrian Abnormal, captain of the Sea Fog, one of Captain Duncan's children.

Theoretically, Duncan's current identity was the father of that pirate leader.

He never expected that he would run into the Sea Fog in this situation... Shouldn't that ship be staying in the Frigid Sea? Shouldn't it be busy robbing and collecting protection fees in that icy sea area? What was it doing here?

Was Tyrian looking for his father? Filial piety?

It was impossible to even think about it.

Captain Duncan's story sounded like a family misfortune.

"Captain," the goat-headed man's voice suddenly came, sounding a bit... excited, "The Sea Fog is starting to enter firing position, should we adjust our heading?"

Adjusting the heading to avoid the first round of direct fire coverage from the opponent's guns as much as possible, entering the battle position with the smallest possible hull projection, and at the same time allowing as many of our own guns as possible to enter a firing angle—the goat-headed man was obviously ready for a gun battle.

Duncan raised his eyebrows: "You sound like you're looking forward to it?"

"The Sea Fog is a good opponent. First of all, it can't beat us, and secondly, it dares to fight us," the goat-headed man's voice was a little cheerful, "Finally, it's also very durable—that ship is full of the living dead, and even the ship itself has been contaminated with a bit of the 'undying and unsinkable' characteristic. If the Lost Home wants to stretch its muscles, there is no better object than that."

"...In short, the kid can take a beating, right?" Duncan said casually, and at this moment, the corner of his eye suddenly noticed several clusters of clouds appearing on the sea in the distance, slowly dispersing around the Sea Fog.

After a while, he suddenly heard a sharp whistling sound coming from the sky, carrying a powerful momentum straight towards the location of the Lost Home.

The Sea Fog fired first—as a technologically more advanced steel warship, that ship had a range advantage. Even if it delayed firing until close range, it could launch an attack before the Lost Home.

Duncan couldn't help but feel nervous, and then he saw huge water columns rising one after another on the sea near the Lost Home. The powerful battleship-level main guns had amazing power with each bombardment, and those giant water columns even made the Lost Home's huge hull sway slightly.

But not a single shot hit the Lost Home—the Sea Fog's first round of fire all missed.

Duncan watched the water columns fall one by one, and thought that this might be a normal situation in naval battles—without guided weapons and modern fire control computers, the hit rate of ship guns should be about this level.