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Chapter 742: Revelation

Standing solemnly on the balcony of his City Hall office, Dante Wayne gazed upon the streets that glowed softly under the persistent sunset. The dense rooftops of the Pland’s upper district sparkled beneath the sun’s fading light, a sight he had once admired and taken pride in as the governor of the city. However, this extended twilight transformed his sense of pride into a sense of dread and responsibility.

Despite the foreboding situation, Dante was aware that Pland was managing better than many other city-states. Thanks to the legacy of the “Ghost Captain,” the city was enveloped in protective flames that kept at bay the larger threats of supernatural invasions that could thrive under the cover of an endless night. Dante’s worries were confined to the immediate concerns of ensuring the city-state’s security, safeguarding the well-being of its residents, and adjusting its material reserves and production processes.

But the situation was far graver in other parts of the world.

In Cold Port to the north, the local government had declared an emergency, with military and protective forces hastily fortifying shelters and stockpiling sacred oils. In Mok, the Academy of Truth had mobilized all its steam-powered walkers from the church’s armory, strategically positioning them around the city to protect against threats. Meanwhile, several city-states in the southwestern seas had imposed “Nightfall Bans,” relocating residents from outer districts to fortified church shelters in the inner city, where massive bonfires would be lit at sunset and kept burning through the night.

As each city-state braced for the prolonged darkness, resources were being inventoried and mobilized in a race against time, with every effort focused on preparing for the uncertain night ahead within a critical seventy-two-hour window.

Interrupting Dante’s contemplation, the sound of footsteps signaled the arrival of a municipal official into the office. Catching sight of Dante on the balcony, the young official cleared his throat respectfully and said, “Ahem, Governor, the leaders of the steam hubs, power stations, and mining facilities are assembled in the meeting room. Should we start without you, or will you be joining us shortly?”

Acknowledging the official’s query, Dante nodded and gestured for him to proceed, indicating that he would follow in just a few minutes.

As the footsteps receded, Dante Wayne allowed himself a brief moment of respite, consciously easing the tension that had etched itself across his features. His mind, a whirlwind of thoughts and strategies, sought a moment of order amidst the chaos. With a deep, measured breath, he moved away from the grandeur of his sweeping, curved desk, his hand reaching out to grasp a particular document he knew would need his immediate attention.

His eyes, however, couldn’t help but drift towards a small, personal artifact perched at the edge of his workspace—a simple picture frame that held within it a snapshot of time, frozen and untouched by the world’s chaos. It depicted two figures, one a younger version of himself, the other a tall woman with silver hair and a soft, almost imperceptible smile. They were captured in a moment of tranquility next to a vibrant flowerbed, bathed in the brilliant glow of the sun—a stark contrast to the dimming world outside.

This photograph, a rare relic of a time before life had pulled Dante Wayne and Vanna into its relentless current, stood as a silent testament to a moment when afternoons could be leisurely and the future seemed a distant concern. “I wonder how Vanna is doing…” Dante mused aloud, a fleeting wave of nostalgia washing over him for the days bathed in sunlight, now memories that seemed as distant as the fading daylight.

Shaking off the reminiscence, he focused back on the task at hand, securing the document under his arm before making his way to the meeting that awaited him, his steps quickening as he approached the office door.

Meanwhile, Vanna awoke, her mind slowly detaching from the remnants of dreams that had been as vivid as they were unsettling. The dreams, filled with chaotic and bizarre visions, had left behind an indelible mark, a shadow that lingered in her eyes, fading memories replaced by a pervasive, desolate feeling that clung to her. She sat up, the room still dimly lit by the lingering sunset, casting a golden-red hue over the sea visible through her window.

The Vanished had left the spirit realm behind, now navigating the tangible waves of the real dimension. In the distance, the silhouette of the Bright Star was visible, the enigmatic magic warship keeping pace as they sailed together across the sea.

The Tide, Unresolved, and Resolved, the mighty church warships had parted ways with them after leaving the border veil, each vessel setting off on its separate path. Vanna’s sigh, mixed with the sea’s salty air and the comforting sound of the waves, was a momentary solace in the uncertainty that lay ahead.

But then, a sudden sense of unease pricked at her senses. Turning swiftly, her gaze fixed on a corner of her room where the ambiance had subtly shifted. The gentle lapping of seawater inside the cabin, previously unnoticed, now seemed to swell, filling the space with its presence. The room and the very reality within it appeared to expand exponentially, mirroring the rising tide—a vision both bewildering and awe-inspiring, as if the boundaries between dimensions were once again beginning to blur.

In the nebulous expanse of her cabin, as reality seemed to warp and weaver around her, Vanna’s eyes were drawn to a vast, enigmatic shadow at the far end of the room, where the air shimmered like the surface of the sea. There, emerging from the depths of this illusory ocean, was a colossal entity—a creature or structure of immense size, its very presence defying comprehension.

From this otherworldly apparition, an extension of its being reached out towards her, materializing atop the undulating waves as a figure draped in a dress as dark as the deepest sea, her face veiled, concealing her true identity. The figure’s eyes locked onto Vanna’s, revealing diamond-shaped pupils that seemed to swirl with myriad unspoken thoughts and emotions too complex for words. In that moment, Vanna felt an overwhelming sense of connection, an unfamiliar and profoundly intimate kinship.

With a sudden clarity amid the surreal encounter, Vanna recognized the divine nature of this presence, her body reacting with an involuntary reverence. “My Lord…” she uttered, bowing deeply in a mix of awe and submission.

“We don’t have much time, child,” the figure’s voice reached her, a soft whisper that carried the weight of worlds, a sound so powerful it could unravel the minds of the unprepared. “…Our connection with the mortal world will have one last intensification…”

A wave of vertigo threatened to overwhelm Vanna, a sensation that spoke of a profound alteration, a tainting of her very being by the deity she worshipped. The chaos that enveloped her was palpable, yet amidst this turmoil, a glimpse of a soft, ethereal green flame flickered at the edge of her perception, anchoring her to reality.

“…What do you need me to do?” Vanna managed to ask, her gaze carefully avoiding the intimidating expanse that loomed behind the deity, focusing instead on maintaining her consciousness. “What can I do?”

“…Gather those fallen stars… let them shelter you once more… tell the Usurper, we want to… talk… we will find…”

The soothing sound of the waves morphed into a cacophony of screeches, the previously comforting seawater now seemed to emit a putrid odor, and a chill that penetrated to the bone began to envelop her. Struggling to comprehend the deity’s message through the din and her splitting headache, Vanna’s vision blurred, the sea and the vast shadow fading into silence.

Duncan looked at Vanna with concern as she stumbled into his quarters, his expression one of surprise and immediate concern. “Did you receive a revelation from Gomona?” he asked, quickly moving to support her. “Sit down here first, take a breath, and take it slow.”

“Thank you… Captain,” Vanna replied, her voice weak as Duncan guided her into a chair. The residual pain and disorientation made coherent thought a challenge, but Duncan’s steadying presence quickly began to alleviate her distress, allowing her thoughts to regain their usual clarity. “I saw Her illusion directly and heard Her voice… The Goddess is in a bad state. Those noises… felt like facing those dark, alien gods directly.”

Vanna, catching her breath, carefully recounted her encounter with the divine presence, each word painting a vivid picture of her ethereal experience. As she spoke, Duncan listened intently, his face etching into a mask of deep concern and contemplation.

“Gather those fallen stars…” he echoed thoughtfully, the words seeming to resonate with a cryptic message he had encountered before. He recalled a peculiar directive received under eerie circumstances—a whisper from the shadows, from an encounter with the otherworldly entities in the eerie garden of the Alice mansion. The advice was enigmatic yet clear: to collect the fragments of fallen stars, suggesting that in dire times, these remnants could be the key to sustaining the cities’ existence when all hope seemed lost.

The connection between Duncan’s memory and Vanna’s revelation became apparent almost immediately. Vanna, her intuition sharpened by her divine encounter, speculated, “…Is the Goddess referring to those ‘luminous body fragments’ that fell from the sun’s runic ring?” Her gaze met Duncan’s, seeking confirmation, pondering if these celestial remnants held the power to safeguard the city-states against impending darkness.

Duncan, with a thoughtful nod, confirmed her suspicions. He drew upon the recent history of Wind Harbor, where a fallen star fragment had mitigated the effects of nightfall, albeit within a limited scope. “Now that the second luminous body fragment has fallen in Frost, coupled with the revelation you just received, it’s not hard to connect the dots,” he remarked, piecing together the puzzle laid out by fate and divine will.

As he spoke, his gaze drifted towards the window, where the eternal twilight painted the sea with endless shades of gold and crimson. The broken ring of the sun, with its missing pieces casting long shadows over the waters, served as a haunting reminder of the world’s fragility.

While cryptic, the message Gomona had imparted to Vanna was clear in its urgency and implication. Yet, the unsaid hint of a more profound and unsettling truth weighed heavily on Duncan’s mind. “…This is only the beginning,” he murmured, a sense of foreboding in his voice. As suggested by the events unfolding, the gradual disintegration of the sun hinted at an accelerated decay and a future where the world might witness the sun’s complete collapse, heralding a darkness far greater than any nightfall previously feared.