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Having spent a significant portion of his life sailing the treacherous and vast ocean, Lawrence was highly knowledgeable about many aspects of the starry sky. He was well-versed in the techniques to observe it and the potential dangers he could encounter.

He embedded his face deep into the hollow of the spirit realm lens – a gesture of deference towards the celestial bodies, common knowledge amongst seafarers. He then started to whisper the name of the deity he worshipped, harmonizing with the blessing imparted upon him by a priest.

As a mysterious power slowly diffused and his spiritual strength and faith heightened, Lawrence first detected a soft sound resembling the gentle flow of water accumulating in a basin nearing him. He inhaled the faint, briny fragrance of seawater, and an instant later, it felt as if his entire face was submerged underwater.

Newly initiated navigators attempting to gaze upon the starry sky for the first time could easily succumb to panic at this stage. The illusion of being “drowned and suffocated” could disturb their mental equilibrium, allowing intrusive, disturbing thoughts to creep in. Hence, a novice’s first attempt at stargazing necessitated the presence of an assistant, primarily responsible for pulling the greenhorn away from the spirit realm lens before they devolved into a grotesque, squirming pile of mangled flesh. This “acclimation” process could stretch over several weeks.

Nonetheless, for Lawrence, this was not an issue.

He understood that the “seawater” that enveloped him represented the power of the Storm Goddess Gomona – the deities would not bring harm to their loyal devotees. He knew he could now open his eyes.

Slowly, Lawrence unveiled his eyes, finding stars illuminating the heavens and filling his field of vision.

Lawrence was met with an unfathomable expanse of endless darkness as he continued to cast his gaze downward. At the fringes of this obsidian void, he noticed chaotic waves of light in flux, mere echoes of the spirit realm that lay in the world’s deeper strata. Within the darkness were various concentrated points of radiant light. They conglomerated into assorted clusters of varied size and texture – some resembled fluffy structures akin to clouds, others looked like spiraling whirlpools, while yet others reminded him of winding rivers. This breathtaking array of points of light blanketed the elderly seafarer’s visual field, sketching out a cryptic vista that humans had yet to fully comprehend.

Deep within the sprawling celestial tapestry, which hung like an infinite curtain, crevices between some stellar clusters faintly disclosed shadows distinct from the enveloping blackness. They bore a resemblance to fractured lands afloat amidst the depths of the starlight, interconnected by dim, pale “rivers” that induced a disorienting, frightful sensation with just a single fleeting glance.

This was an area even further removed from the spirit realm, the dread-inducing birthplace of the shadow demons – the abyssal deep sea that’s segregated by the studded stars.

Lawrence meticulously managed his gaze, deliberately avoiding plunging too deeply into the abyss so as to evade alerting the capricious, mindless demons. Concurrently, he concentrated on ascertaining his exact location amidst the stars.

Then he spotted an inconspicuous glimmer that appeared to be a lost singularity drifting aimlessly among the celestial bodies.

Lawrence fixed his eyes on the star, studying it intently for a protracted period before knitting his brows together.

Could their position be… in the vicinity of Frost’s coast?

The old captain felt a jolt of apprehension as he cautiously began to manipulate the cylindrical device’s control lever with both hands. A flurry of small lenses on the side of the apparatus instantly sprang into motion, modifying Lawrence’s perspective of the “starry sky.”

After multiple cross-checks, he confirmed that they were indeed positioned near Frost’s coast, sufficiently close to sight Frost’s primary island itself.

In that instant, Lawrence perceived a transient fluctuation before his eyes.

The celestial landscape, saturated with countless points of luminosity, abruptly plunged into darkness before re-emerging into its usual state.

Taken aback, Lawrence’s initial impulse was to readjust the control lever once more to recalibrate his view. However, his years of wisdom made him halt midway and swiftly raise his head.

A flickering starry sky could signal a malfunction in the spirit lens – irrespective of the cause, any irregularities encountered during star observation required immediate disconnection from the view.

This was a safeguarding protocol established by countless forebears, often exacted at the tragic expense of their lives.

Lawrence massaged his furrowed brow, shot a quick look at his timepiece, and noticed that merely a few minutes had elapsed.

Engrossed in his task, Lawrence was set on conducting a thorough inspection of the entire lens apparatus, intending to execute another observation once he had eliminated potential faults and assured the equipment’s safety.

But then an unexpected knock at the door disrupted his plans.

“Captain!” came the first mate’s voice from beyond the door, “Captain, are you done with your observation? We’ve picked up a signal!”

A mild frown formed on Lawrence’s face, marking his slight irritation. He contemplated for a moment, deciding to postpone his work, and promptly strode over to the door. As he pulled it open, he found his first mate waiting on the other side.

“We have received a response from Frost,” the first mate glanced around the observation room, ensuring that everything was in order before turning his attention back to Lawrence, “They have granted us permission to enter their coastal waters and dock at the harbor.”

Squinting slightly, Lawrence experienced an odd feeling welling up within him. Given the earlier unusual occurrences in the observation room, he inquired in a serious tone, “Have you had visual confirmation of Frost’s main island?”

“We have indeed sighted it,” the first mate affirmed with a nod, “The mist has lifted, and our course was slightly awry—just a minor deviation, but we’ve made the necessary adjustments.”

Lawrence cast a glance back at the observation room, his countenance becoming rather grim.

“Captain?” Sensing Lawrence’s peculiar mood, the first mate asked with concern, “Did you encounter something unusual?”

“There was an anomaly in the observation room earlier… And according to my observations, we should be at Frost’s coast by now. There’s no way we couldn’t have spotted Frost due to fog or minor navigational deviations,” Lawrence voiced his concerns in a low tone, “Have the mechanic take a look at the spirit lens assembly to confirm if there’s any malfunction with the equipment. I’ll go up top to assess the situation.”

“Understood, Captain.”

Swiftly, Lawrence exited the lower deck, weaving his way through numerous cabin layers of the White Oak, and promptly arrived on the upper deck.

He chose not to return to the bridge but instead stationed himself on the foredeck, casting his gaze out to survey the scene in the distance.

A sprawling city-state lay directly ahead of the White Oak, with its coastal structures and harbor facilities in clear view. The fog had retreated, revealing the gently rolling waves of the sea. Thick and wispy clouds were scattered across the sky, with streams of faint sunlight piercing through the cloud cover, casting a weak glow on the distant sea and the city-state.

Everything in sight appeared as it should in Frost, devoid of any irregularities.

A puzzled frown creased Lawrence’s brow as he redirected his gaze skyward.

Aside from a larger accumulation of clouds, he didn’t spot anything amiss.

After a few moments, he retreated from the deck, making his way back to the bridge. Simultaneously, a sailor positioned at the telegraph machine received another welcoming message from the harbor at Frost.

Lawrence glanced at the transcribed note the sailor had jotted down.

The message was brief but clear: “Harbor is open for arrival, welcome to Frost.”

After blinking, Lawrence began to question his earlier trepidation. He contemplated whether the minor glitch in the spirit lens and the lingering sea fog had amplified his unease. However, everything around him appeared to be perfectly ordinary.

“We’ll proceed to dock.”

“Acknowledged, Captain.”

…

After a while, Duncan and his group exited the “Second Waterway”, parting ways with Nemo in the covert tunnel that connected to the waterway.

They had thoroughly searched the collapsed, blocked passageway for a substantial amount of time but had discovered no leads. They hadn’t unearthed any additional “mud”, nor had they found any openings or remnants indicating how the “mud” could have infiltrated the passage.

Likewise, they had failed to locate the mysterious area where “Crow” had disappeared.

It seemed as though they had hit a dead end.

“I’ll ensure Crow receives a fitting burial. Please relay to Captain Tyrian that Crow died a brave warrior’s death—he was a proud member of the Mist Fleet,” Nemo respectfully removed his hat and gave a slight bow to Duncan within the hidden passage.

“I’ll ensure he gets the message,” Duncan responded solemnly, looking directly at the “informant” before him, “Furthermore, our investigation into this matter is far from over.”

Nemo lifted his gaze to meet Duncan’s determined stare.

“Crow has left us with vital clues; he undoubtedly reached somewhere significant. The ‘counterfeit’ couldn’t have possibly manifested out of nowhere within the Second Waterway,” Duncan asserted in a deliberate tone, “I’ll continue searching. If required, I’ll examine every single brick and patch of soil within this city-state.”