Chapter 1 As Usual

As usual, Vanna calmed her mind and silently recited the sacred passages from the *Storm Codex*. Then, from the drawer beside her, she took a runic candle that had been burned more than halfway down, placed it beside her, and lit the candlestick.

A small, bright flame flickered at the top of the candle, and a soothing aroma slowly spread as the essential oils evaporated. Vanna took a light breath, and then unhesitatingly ran the dagger across her arm.

Blood soaked into the fine lines on the dagger, as if absorbed by it, and a brief pain ran through her arm—a pain that didn't even last a few seconds before turning into the faint itching of a wound healing.

Vanna could even hear the slight sounds of cell regeneration and blood coagulation. She watched the wound on her arm rapidly heal, and the sound of gentle waves vaguely reached her ears.

She looked at the ritual dagger in her hand again, hesitated slightly, and then placed the blood-stained dagger above the burning candlestick, letting the flames lick the tip of the blade.

"Hear me, Master of the Storm, Gospel of the Deep Sea, Maiden of the Still Sea, hear me, your follower needs guidance..."

The flames crackled, and the blood on the dagger was instantly ignited, turning into a layer of shimmering radiance floating on the blade.

This was the sign that the channel had been established.

A Saint, using blood as a guide, using a special prayer format, following a very special ritual process, could establish a more stable and direct channel of communication between themselves and the gods than ordinary priests praying. That ordinary power and "grace" was precisely what distinguished a "Saint" from an ordinary clergyman.

As for how stable and direct that ordinary "channel" was...

The soft sound of the sea rose up, as if directly echoing in her mind more and more clearly. Duncan felt the surrounding air gradually become humid, and even seemed to smell the fishy scent in her nostrils. Then, she suddenly felt a burst of mental elation, and the scene before her changed accordingly.

Duncan felt as if she had been rudely thrown back into the real world. Her heart was pounding, and a feeling of near-suffocation made her gasp for breath subconsciously. She looked up and glanced around, seeing that all the phantasms had completely dissipated. The dagger in her hand had fallen onto the table at some point. Only the runic candle was still burning quietly, the flame flickering restlessly.

As a Saint, it was not uncommon to glimpse the phantom or avatar of the storm goddess Germana during the rituals she performed, but thinking about the successive waves of wavering she had experienced today and the almost heretical doubts in her heart, she still couldn't help but feel uneasy.

"...I'm not just a savage who can jump-slash," Duncan suddenly felt that communicating with this ghost captain was really exhausting. The other party's words and deeds always exceeded the records, while she always unconsciously neglected to guard against the other party during these unexpected interactions. "Besides 'coming to see what's going on', what else do you want to do? I thought... you had completely left."

But suddenly, an unusual color appeared in the corner of her eye, instantly stopping her tangled thoughts.

It seemed to be a woman in a long dress, with large patches of hazy shadows behind her extending in all directions. The woman's face was hidden behind a veil, and the shadows behind her were winding and intertwined, as if they were countless chains entangled together, or as if they were outlining some kind of larger, more transcendent "body" beyond the reason of mortals. And the figure in the long dress was only a small part of that huge hull—the part that could be understood by mortals.

Duncan stared intently at the ghost captain in the mirror. After a few seconds, she suddenly took a step forward and actually lowered her head: "Thank you very much for your help. At least from this matter, Prandom has been protected by you."

However, Duncan's words were not finished, because the deep-sea phantasm around her suddenly shook violently. The bright radiance that had been solemnly emitted in the depths of the sea was also dimming and disappearing one after another. The goddess's phantom was already on the verge of collapse in the blink of an eye. Duncan felt that she was being "pushed" out of this channel, and after the connection was completely cut off, she only vaguely perceived a few words:

Duncan took a deep breath and calmed her heartbeat.

Was the goddess telling herself that something was about to happen? Was she warning herself that the time to prepare for something was limited? What did "critical" mean? What was at the critical point? Another crisis? Another disaster on the scale of a reality invasion?

The shadowy, hazy figure did not move at all, but Duncan dared not urge her. She knew that although what she saw was only a projection, this projection did point directly to Germana, and the question she had just asked was an extremely great adventure—

"There is no difference" and "Time is limited, approaching criticality."

After an unknown amount of time, Duncan finally withdrew her gaze from the candlelight. She picked up the fallen dagger and slowly put it back in the drawer.

To some extent, this could even be regarded as direct communication with a god.

The flame flickering on the runic candle had been dyed a faint green at some point.

The connection was completely broken.

"Are you okay?"

"...Time is limited... approaching... criticality..."

"I..." Duncan hesitated slightly, and finally seemed to have made up her mind. She said bluntly, "I have survived to this day because of the subspace. Why did you still choose me as a Saint and bestow blessings upon me?"

"Alright, I understand what you mean," Vanna interrupted Duncan. She looked at the young inquisitor with a smile that was not quite a smile. The other party's wording and attitude were actually far from polite, but this somewhat overly frank personality was not annoying. "Then let's talk about something else... you seem to have encountered trouble?"

The unfamiliar bedroom disappeared, and the surroundings became an endless, gently surging blue sea. There was also a faint blue radiance rising and falling in the depths of the sea, as if hundreds of thousands of mysterious light sources were hidden in the deep sea. Duncan felt as if she was in the center of an unknown vast, deep sea area, and in the shimmering waves before her, a vague image gradually emerged.

Sensing chaotic aura... so you came to see what was going on?

The goddess's phantom was signaling her to speak.

The next second, she suddenly looked up at the dressing table in front of her, at the oval mirror.

Speaking of which, she paused, and then put on a stern face and said, "But that doesn't mean I've relaxed my vigilance against you and the *Missing Township*. We still can't be sure what your purpose is for the civilized world... at least until we confirm that, I will..."

"You're still in the real world, there's no need to worry about that," Vanna said casually, "so I strongly suggest that you don't just jump-slash like last time—you really will make a mess of your room."

This was exceeding the bounds of a believer, but she really wanted to know the answer.

"Our positions may be different, but your actions to protect Prandom are undeniable," Duncan raised her head, her face serious. "Today, countless people have survived the disaster. Putting aside my position as an inquisitor, I should thank you."

The mysterious and hazy figure seemed to be approaching a little. "She" did not speak, but Duncan felt a "thought" directly floating in her mind,

Was it related to the crisis Prandom had just gone through?

"Ritual? I think you misunderstood," Vanna shook her head vigorously in the mirror, her tone very frank. "I just suddenly sensed that your aura was extremely chaotic, and I thought there were still some tricky enemies left in Prandom City, so I came to see what was going on...

...But now it seems that I was reckless."

"It's you?" Duncan jumped up, and then seemed to realize something. "Did you just disrupt my ritual?"

Vanna frowned in the mirror, seeming a little headache about the young inquisitor's overly vigilant and hostile attitude: "You can relax a little, and it's best to be a little more polite. I did leave, but the distance in time and space doesn't mean much to me. Besides—in any case, I just protected your city-state, don't you think you should at least say thank you?"

Vanna's slender figure floated in the mirror frame, watching this side quietly.

Duncan's thoughts were complicated. This prayer did not calm her down, but made her even more uneasy than during the day.

The gloomy and salty figure spoke, asking very abruptly.

...There is no difference..."

Just like that, she waited anxiously for an unknown amount of time. Suddenly, a thought entered her mind as if it had been directly implanted into her cerebellum.

Duncan met Vanna's gaze, and after a few seconds, she took a light breath: "Sorry, it's unrelated to you."

Duncan was full of question marks, a little unsure if she had misheard, but very quickly, she remembered the situation when she first saw the other party in the mirror, and immediately showed a vigilant look: "You pulled me into a dream again?"

"There is no difference?" Duncan was stunned. This disjointed answer was even more difficult to understand than obscure and incomplete prophecies and revelations. She instinctively felt that this answer should still have some "upper and lower context," but she had failed to understand the information and therefore had not heard it. This made her subconsciously ask again, "What is no difference? I don't understand. You still chose me without knowing that I had been blessed by the subspace..."

The former, she still couldn't understand what it meant, while the latter... seemed to have a clearer meaning, but only made her more confused.

"...Unrelated, but I'm curious," Vanna said lightly, "Whether you are willing to admit it or not, you cannot dispel the mark I left on you. Duncan, I can sense your wonderful state at the moment—perhaps I can help you." This straightforward thanks was beyond Vanna's expectations. She had originally thought that this girl's brain would be as hard as her muscles, but unexpectedly, she became embarrassed: "It's also... no need to be so serious, I just mentioned it casually."

She was thinking about the only information that had floated into her mind during that brief exchange.