Deep Sea Embers

Chapter 681: Madness?

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Frem was completely mesmerized by the enormous staff in front of him. He stared at it, spellbound, for a long time before whispering, “…The Eternal Flame…”

After a moment of silence, he looked up at Vanna and Duncan and asked, “You brought this out, didn’t you?”

“Actually, it was Vanna’s idea,” Duncan responded, stepping back slightly. “She believes the staff should be in the care of the Church of the Flame Bearers.”

Frem looked at Vanna, the Inquisitor, with surprise.

“Ta Ruijin gave me this staff as a keepsake from the past, but he wasn’t aware of the Deep Sea Age,” Vanna explained calmly. “The Ta Ruijin I met might have been just an echo, or perhaps the beings from the Deep Sea Age were merely copies created after the Third Long Night. Nonetheless, some things truly belong to those who continue their legacy. This staff is an artifact of an ancient civilization, not just a personal souvenir. Giving it to the Church of the Flame Bearers is more meaningful than keeping it for myself.”

The group fell silent. Helena, Lune, and Banster exchanged knowing glances and chose to remain quiet as Frem slowly extended his hand. His stone-like fingers gently touched the staff’s rough surface.

The detailed carvings on the staff seemed to halt time itself, silently narrating the story of a forgotten civilization that rose to greatness and then decayed.

Frem could not understand the ancient script on the staff. Each symbol felt deeply familiar, as though ingrained in his soul, yet also completely foreign, as if from another world.

“The elves had a similar experience when they discovered those scrolls on the islands,” Lune said, breaking the silence. Watching Frem’s changing expressions, the elderly elf added softly, “We’ve been through this before. I understand.”

“This script represents a full evolution of characters; we’ll definitely decipher it,” Frem murmured, “The Flame Bearers excel at such tasks.”

He then looked directly at Vanna.

“I’ll make impressions of all these markings to study the forest kin’s language and history. Taking these impressions will suffice.”

Vanna’s eyes widened in surprise and confusion. “But, the staff…”

“This staff was given to you by my lord, and it is his wish for you to keep it,” Frem stated slowly. “And Miss Vanna, the true legacy of a civilization isn’t this mystical staff, but the history these markings record.”

The Pope of the Flame Bearers gently traced the staff’s surface, as if following the contours of ancient, lost epochs in its engravings.

“Today, whether we accept it or not, we can’t overlook the truths in the ‘Blasphemous Books’ those cultists refer to. Our real history started with the Third Long Night; everything since then in the mortal realm is merely a replica. In a world reborn from ashes, uncovering memories and history is far more crucial than pursuing relics. Miss Vanna, we only need to copy these inscriptions.”

Caught off guard, Vanna looked instinctively at Duncan, who subtly nodded, agreeing with Frem’s words.

“…I understand,” Vanna replied softly, her voice firm, “I will ensure it is well-cared for, treating it with the respect it deserves as a symbol of glory and life.”

“That settles this matter,” Duncan added, stepping forward with a hint of a smile. His expression then changed as if a new thought had struck him, leading him to ask, “However, since Vanna introduced this ‘Chronicle Pillar’ to our world, has your Church of the Flame Bearers received any feedback or revelations from Ta Ruijin?”

Frem shook his head. “No,” he answered, “as we discussed in the meeting, communication between the mortal realm and the divine has become increasingly difficult. Not only is the divine voice weakening, but the few messages we do receive are often distorted with interference and noise. The only consolation is that the divine powers still influence the Boundless Sea. But beyond that, even we, the four of us, haven’t heard a clear word from ‘Them’ in many years.”

“I’ve been receiving only vague revelations and occasional guidance from the goddess,” Vanna added quickly. “While she responds promptly when I call, the answers are consistently unclear.”

“The fading and eventual demise of gods is an experience unlike anything we mortals encounter,” Lune joined the conversation, “This mystery remains unsolved, but it’s evident that They still possess consciousness. It’s just that Their awareness can no longer effectively reach our minds. It seems as if there’s a growing cognitive gap between us, making it increasingly difficult for us to comprehend Their messages.”

Lune paused thoughtfully before resuming, a hint of uncertainty in his voice: “Honestly, this situation reminds me of the tale of the Mad Bird.”

At his words, Helena’s expression shifted subtly as she quickly grasped the implication: “Are you suggesting… the current state of the gods’ death is diverging from our world on a cognitive level? The increasing interference and noise we’ve been encountering from the Ark in recent years… could it be some kind of intensifying Mad Bird Effect?”

“This theory only formed in my mind after the incident at Wind Harbor,” Lune acknowledged with a slight nod, “It seems to be the most plausible explanation for the increasing intensity of the noise.”

Throughout this discussion, Duncan had been listening silently. When there was a pause, he added, “Actually… I’ve been meaning to mention that I, too, occasionally hear Their voices or see the messages They send.”

This revelation brought an immediate silence to the group.

The four popes slowly turned to look at Duncan, their expressions reflecting utter disbelief. In truth, encountering an actual ghost would probably have been less shocking to them than this revelation.

“Are you serious?!” Helena was the first to speak up, “You mean to say that you can clearly hear the gods’ voices? They actually… communicate with you?!”

Even Frem, usually composed, couldn’t hide his astonishment. The Orc Pope, who stood like a small giant, quickly moved around the table to confront Duncan: “You have direct communication with the gods? How is this possible?!”

“Wait, wait, wait, I only said it happens occasionally, just occasionally,” Duncan quickly clarified, gesturing with his hands to calm the intense reaction, “It’s not exactly direct contact, but… it’s quite distinct. And about this noise and interference you mention, I haven’t experienced it at all.”

The popes exchanged baffled glances.

Duncan didn’t conceal his experiences of sporadically hearing or seeing messages from the gods. He described the instances when he had received these messages, including the eerie, dark space where these divine communications had occurred.

He, however, chose not to disclose the specific contents of these communications.

A deep silence then descended upon the hall.

After a significant pause, it was Frem who finally broke the silence. The usually composed forest kin turned to Lune and said, “…This at least seems to suggest that They are indeed still capable of rational thought.”

“Yes, they still have rationality.” Lune suddenly came out of his brief reverie, starting to piece together his thoughts, “If this is indeed the case… and if my earlier speculation isn’t too far-fetched…” He paused, quickly organizing his thoughts, “Then we might interpret the situation as follows: The gods retain their rationality, but Their rationality has drifted away from the minds of mortals, even from our world as a whole. This is why we find it hard to connect with Them, and perhaps why the world itself is starting to feel Their distorted influence. On the other hand, Captain Duncan, perhaps due to some unique aspect of his being, remains unaffected by this cognitive drift…”

Lune abruptly stopped, seeming to hit a snag in his theory, a look of puzzlement crossing his face as he pondered over the potential inconsistencies or unknowns in his hypothesis.

Just then, Duncan remembered another related point. “I recall… according to the current understanding of scholars and the church, the Nether Lord in the shadowy depths of the deep sea is considered a completely insane, uncontrollable ancient god, right?”

“Absolutely,” Lune affirmed quickly, “The Nether Lord, along with the Black Sun, is deemed entirely irrational. We have concrete evidence of this. Even though humans cannot survive in the abyssal deep sea, we’ve been able to observe those depths through complex and perilous rituals…”

“I’ve actually spoken with the Nether Lord,” Duncan interjected with a shrug, “To be honest, I found His mental state to be quite coherent, though He did mention feeling somewhat overwhelmed recently.”

Lune: “…”

Duncan looked around at the stunned expressions on the faces of the popes and hesitated but decided to forge ahead. The conversation had already reached such an supernatural juncture.

“And as for the ‘Black Sun’ we were discussing earlier, I’ve met Him as well. We only had a brief exchange, but He seemed genuinely burdened.”

The reactions of Lune, Helena, Banster, and Frem were a mix of shock and disbelief, their faces a tableau of astonishment: “…?!”