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In comparison to other sea captains of his generation and level of expertise, his mental resilience was praiseworthy. Within the boundless vastness of the sea, it was not unusual to encounter sea captains plagued by distorted mental states and an increasingly tenuous grasp on their sanity. Despite the spiritual support provided by priests who traveled with these maritime voyagers, the profession of seafaring was inherently laced with more psychological risks than an average sailor might encounter. These sea captains embarked on countless journeys, constantly wrestling with their deteriorating mental health to such a degree that they often defined their profession with a spine-chilling saying.

“We are not just teetering on the brink of the abyss. Instead, we are being thrust headlong into its gaping maw.”

But it was due to the mental torment he had been subjected to over the years that Lawrence developed an unusually keen insight into the phantasmal “Martha”. He had an acute awareness that the figure he was now seeing was not similar to the hallucinations he had experienced before.

His mind wandered back to the vision of “Martha” that had materialized on the deck of the ship, the White Oak, a while back. On that day, First Mate Gus had also witnessed the spectral apparition of “Martha”.

Could that have been a crucial turning point? Had everything finally crossed an unseen threshold? Had the figments of his imagination finally taken on a physical form? Or had some mysterious force delved into his psyche and brought this tangible entity into existence? Was this a blessing cloaked in malice? Or perhaps, a snare imbued with mockery?

“Martha…” Lawrence finally broke the stifling silence, his voice rough and choked due to his dry throat, “Are you truly here, standing in front of me?”

“As you can see,” the feminine figure retorted with a chuckle, “Would you like to touch me? I’m even warm to the touch.”

“You are tangibly present,” Lawrence breathed in deeply, holding back his impulse to step closer, “But… why? Has a mental projection of mine taken on a physical form? Is this… the might of the sea?”

“You’re partially correct,” Martha gently denied with a slight shake of her head, “Yes, this ‘sea’ has shaped me, as it has the Black Oak, but I’m not a mere manifestation of your imagination. I’ve been aimlessly drifting here for many years, Lawrence. The ship and I are merely two among countless ‘impostors’, lost and adrift.”

Lawrence froze for a moment, visibly startled, “Impostors?”

“Indeed, impostors – all conjured by a formidable force lying deep within the sea. I can’t exactly define what this force is, but it has been present here for an unfathomable length of time, spawning innumerable duplicates. Remember the ‘Seagull’ that you obliterated not so long ago? And Dagger Island…”

“All of them are ‘impostors’?!” Lawrence’s eyes bulged in shock. The revelation hit him hard; he suddenly grasped that the chaos he found himself embroiled in was far more malevolent and terrifying than he had initially comprehended, “Wait, the Frost we encountered before…”

“Yes, that too. Everything here is an impostor,” Martha confirmed calmly, “This unknown force has thoroughly permeated this region, and anything that remains here for long enough succumbs to its ‘replication’. There are numerous aimless and vacant copies floating aimlessly in the fathomless depths of the sea. What you’ve come across is merely the tip of the iceberg.”

It seemed that Lawrence had been plunged into a trance, and it took him a while to gather himself. He stared in disbelief at the apparition of his “wife” before him, “But… you seem different, you’re capable of conversation, the ship just fought alongside the White Oak…”

Rather than answer, Martha merely granted Lawrence a serene and inscrutable smile.

He stopped speaking, gradually regaining his composure. He cast his gaze down, observing his own spectral, translucent form and the quiet, green flame flickering on his body.

The Black Oak had come into being after the White Oak had undergone its “transformation” amidst the flames.

“You’ve made the connection, Lawrence,” Martha’s voice was soft, “The only thing that can withstand a force as potent is another force of greater power. Not even this sea can influence the spoils of the Vanished Fleet. You and I, we’re both ‘His’ spoils.”

As Lawrence listened, he found himself in a daze, feeling a twinge of disorientation. Suddenly, he noticed a shift in his expression as he registered the inconsistencies in Martha’s recent disclosures – these were pieces of information that the “Martha” he had said goodbye to decades ago should not have known!

How was she privy to information about the Vanished? How could she know that the White Oak was Captain Duncan’s “spoils”?

“You’ve accessed my consciousness!” Lawrence’s eyes widened in sudden understanding, his muscles involuntarily stiffening, “You’re not the real Martha!”

The figure standing a few feet away simply smiled in response, unperturbed by Lawrence’s reaction, as placid as she had been all those years ago, “If you’re looking for an exact, ‘unadulterated’ version of Martha, I’m afraid I have to disappoint you, Lawrence, I’m not her. However, a part of ‘her’ does exist within me. Martha’s essence is a component of me, and the remaining part is extracted from your consciousness and memories… this sea acts like a mirror, constantly reflecting everything that passes over its surface, including consciousness and memories.”

“I didn’t intrude upon your consciousness, rather your consciousness naturally imprinted a part of itself onto me. Can you accept that?”

Lawrence parted his lips to respond, his face a tableau of mixed emotions. Finally, he managed to conjure a melancholic smile, raising his hands in resignation, “I don’t know. I never contemplated how I would react upon truly confronting you. I… I’m uncertain how to deal with this… ‘variant’ of you. I’m still confused about the nature of your existence.”

He raised his gaze, and for the first time, the veteran sea captain, who had weathered innumerable terrifying ordeals in the Boundless Sea, appeared a bit lost.

He rarely let his guard down in front of anyone, except his wife.

Martha silently studied the no-longer young Lawrence. After a prolonged silence, she let out a small chuckle, “You’re exactly as you used to be, always seeking my advice in pivotal moments.”

She stepped forward, raised her warm hand, and placed it on Lawrence’s shoulder.

“You need to remain resolute and make informed decisions…”

Lawrence’s brows knitted slightly, a look of bewilderment sweeping across his face.

“Excuse me, sir,” Martha turned to address the unusually quiet Anomaly 077, “The master of the Vanished Fleet would greatly appreciate your collaboration.”

The cadaver clothed in sailor’s attire shuddered, wordlessly turned around, and left the bridge.

A wave of understanding seemed to wash over Lawrence and he quickly called out, “Wait…”

But the bridge door had already shut behind the departing figure.

Anomaly 077 darted swiftly down the corridor beyond the door. He faintly heard Captain Lawrence’s final outcry from within, “Martha, I’m over sixty this year!”

He didn’t have the heart to eavesdrop on the conversation that followed.

A short while later, the creak of the door hinge announced someone’s exit. Anomaly 077 recoiled, cautiously turning his head just in time to see the female explorer standing in the doorway, an uninhibited, merry grin adorning her face.

Close on her heels, Lawrence too stepped out, grimacing noticeably. Upon noticing Anomaly 077 by the door, he shot him a sharp warning look. He quickly grabbed his cheek, wincing even more profoundly.

Anomaly 077 immediately diverted his gaze, attempting to meld into the scenery as a real corpse might.

Clearly, he had been subjected to a harsh reprimand.

“Have you come to terms with it now?” Martha pivoted her head to ask Lawrence, her face highlighted by a beaming smile.

Lawrence, cradling the tender spot on his head, couldn’t comprehend how Martha could inflict such potent blows on his nearly ethereal form. All he knew was that these subtleties were no longer important, “I can accept it, I can accept it…”

In the Boundless Sea, one needed a broad-minded perspective to tackle all surprises thrown their way.

After all, as it presently stood, if he couldn’t handle it, Martha would step in to aid him. The female explorer’s forthright demeanor remained unchanged from all those years ago while he had matured into a man in his mid-fifties…

“So, next, we should concentrate on the urgent issues at hand,” Martha proposed with a smile, leaning casually against the door with her arms crossed, “Remaining trapped here isn’t a feasible long-term solution.”

Upon hearing this, Lawrence quickly brushed aside his intricate contemplations, his expression swiftly morphing into one of stern solemnity, “Martha, I’ve been wanting to ask you, what exactly is the state of this sea? Do you have any information about a way out of here?”

“…I wish I could provide the answers you’re seeking, but I’m afraid I have to apologize,” Martha replied after a moment’s pause, “Even though I’ve been aimlessly drifting here for many years, in the end, I and this ship are merely one of the innumerable counterfeits trapped here. However, one thing I am sure of… the entirety of the sea is centered around ‘Frost’. If there indeed exists a portal that intersects with the real world, it’s most likely situated within Frost.”