Chapter 96: Chapter 100: Truth and Fiction in History


    “Captain, are you sure this is really okay?” Alice looked anxiously at the small me in Duncan’s hand, her hands continuously clutching at thece decorations on the edge of her clothing, “Don’t burn down my house…”


    Duncan cradled a me of spiritual fire in his hand while looking for a spot to start by Alice’s “spiritual coffin,” he turned back to nce helplessly at the doll, “My me of spiritual fire ispletely under control—don’t you trust my power?”


    As soon as Alice heard this, she quickly waved her hands and said, “I trust, I trust…”


    Duncan then shifted his gaze back and steadied his spirit.


    With the current conditions on the Homeloss, conducting a full test on Alice’s “spiritual coffin” was unlikely, but this did not mean that he couldn’t do some “preliminary research.” Having grown ever more proficient in controlling the me of spiritual fire, he had already begun to faintly grasp some methods of using this me to investigate the secrets within transcendent artifacts.


    He still dared not use this me on Alice’s body, but as for researching her wooden coffin… that was a different matter altogether.


    After making some preparations, Duncan finally reached out slowly, extending the tip of the me to the surface of the luxurious wooden box.


    The me, like a phantom reflection, silently sank into the box, and Alice’s eyes widened as she carefully observed the movement before her. After a brief two or three seconds of silence, she saw a phantom-like ze suddenly spread out in her field of vision—


    The me of spiritual fire began to burn on the wooden box, burning from the inside out! In the blink of an eye, the entire box took on a semi-transparent texture, and within this seemingly real yet illusory scene, the vigorously burning me rapidly filled every detail inside the box, as if it were reconstructing its “skeletal” structure!


    “Hey, Captain Captain, it’s burning, it’s burning!”


    The doll eximed in rm, but her shouts went unanswered—Duncan’s attention at that moment waspletely focused on controlling the me and perceiving the “spiritual coffin.” His expression solemn, he watched the flickering me and the ethereal wooden box, while Alice’s voice seemed to drift from another world to his ears.


    Duncan’s mind grew calmer; he felt the surrounding quiet down, and even the never-ending winds and waves of the Endless Sea seemed to recede from his perception. He felt his power seep into an immensely vast “ce,” and more and more “perceptions” began to funnel into his consciousness through the channel established by the me—


    This was nothing like the sensation he had when using the me to modify the Sun Amulet!


    If he had topare, transforming the Sun Amulet with the me felt as easy as filling a water cup, whereas now he felt like his mes were pouring into argeke, nonstop—the scale between the two was not at the same level.


    Was this the gap between mass-produced transcendent items and a Rank 099 anomaly?


    A sudden enlightenment struck Duncan and in that sh of thought, he felt the connection with the me finally hit a peak—his power’s transmission abruptly became as smooth as a flowing river, and immediately after, a flood of “memories” surged into his mind!


    Sounds of waves… waves crashing against an unfamiliar coastline, the biting Frost wind sweeping over tall walls, towering ramparts standing in the distance, vaguely as if encased in ice, and then people… swaying, dim, just silhouettes of a crowd…


    Duncan’s vision floated somewhere, seemingly about two or three meters above the ground. He looked around in astonishment, but he could only see unfamiliar City-States and high tforms along the coastline. He saw countless shadows crowded around the high tforms; they seemed like a vague throng of people, but he couldn’t make out any one of them clearly.


    Buzzing and rumbling sounds came from all around, sounding like whispered conversations, yet surprisingly loud and noisy. Duncan struggled to differentiate them, only to realize they were not the sounds of people talking, but countless “thoughts”—the chaotic and intermingled thoughts in the mind, the murmurings under tense and stifling atmospheres, prayers to the gods, and pleas made in fear.


    Those “shadows” did not speak, yet their voices swept over the coastal high tform like a Storm.


    A thought struck Duncan’s heart, and he suddenly turned around.


    Under the distant, pale, and dim Sky Light, he saw a towering object.


    n/?/vel/b//in dot c//om


    A guillotine—its sharp de glimmered with a cold light in the dimness.


    Associating with the little historical knowledge in his mind and thinking about the origin behind Anomaly 099, Duncan realized where he was.


    He looked toward the base of the guillotine, and as his recognition gradually solidified, a hazy figure beneath it also swiftly became clear.


    He saw that queen, the Frost Queen who had been executed by the rebels half a century ago—her silver hair cascaded like a waterfall, and her light violet eyes still shone brightly in the dimness. She stood in the chill wind dressed in a slightly thin gown, yet she clenched her teeth, refusing to let her body shake even slightly.


    Indeed, she had the same face as Alice.


    A sense of strangeness arose in Duncan’s heart as he looked at the woman who shared Alice’s exact appearance. Even though he knew this was the real figure from history, he couldn’t help but have the image of the lively marite aboard the ship spring to mind first, when suddenly, a voice that seemed toe from nowhere interrupted him—


    “Your time hase, ‘Queen’ Frost.”


    The voice was cold and distant, yet it seemed to pierce through the curtain of history, resonating beside the guillotine.


    The next second, Duncan saw two apparitions suddenly materialize by the guillotine. The two figures approached the Frost Queen as if they wanted to force her arms down and make her kneel before the de, yet the queen’s posture remained unyielding, the tall apparitions appearing as weak and powerless as children.


    Duncan heard the surrounding noise suddenly be more tumultuous than before, and the countless shadows began to quiver. Interspersed were distinct shouts—and once again, that cold and distant voice rang out, this time with an added touch of anger, “Silence! Maintain order at the execution ground!”


    More phantoms materialized around the guillotine, and the Frost Queen was finally subdued beneath the chilling instrument of death. She knelt in the cold dust, continuing to lift her head and calmly gaze at the high walls of the City-State in the distance, while overhead, the sharp, heavy de started to rise amidst the creaking and groaning of the winch…


    Duncan frowned. Although he knew these were merely echoes of historical records, he couldn’t help but instinctively step forward as he watched the face of “Alice,” reaching out his hand…


    But just as he was about to “move,” the Frost Queen by the guillotine suddenly turned her head slightly—she looked in the direction of Duncan, at the ce which, in her time, should have been empty, and opening her mouth, she spoke clearly and softly:


    “Whoever you are, please do not contaminate history.”


    Duncan stopped in astonishment, and right after that, he heard someone by the guillotine exim in shock, “Who are you talking to?!”


    The Frost Queen, however, had already averted her gaze. She seemed to have suddenly realized something, and a semnce of relief appeared on her originally icy countenance. She turned her head, seemingly directed at the executioner beside her, and said, “Proceed, before the sun sets.”


    The guillotine plummeted sharply.


    Darkness, vast and boundless, surged from every direction, and the apparitions from history began to tear into fragments of light and shadow. Duncan felt his connection to “here” rapidly weakening, knowing that this “echo” was nearing its end. Within the disintegrating visions drifting away, he could still hear bits of the chaotic, broken voices, faint and intermittent, only catching fragments—


    “… The Frost Queen is dead, we have severed Homeloss’s channel to return to the real world…”


    “… Lei Nora attempts to build a second Homeloss… Colluding with the shadows of Subspace, the evidence is conclusive, deserving of death…”


    “… The new Governor will reshape order soon, all materials rted to the ‘Abyssal’ exploration program will be destroyed… Those who report promptly may still have a chance at forgiveness…”


    “Pursue the rebel ship Sea Mist and the deserting navy at all costs… Alive or dead, irrelevant… Wait, what’s that noise… Get out, this ce is copsing!”


    Cries of rm, shouts, the colossal noise of things breaking and copsing, the roaring, surging waves…


    Duncan suddenly broke free from the boundless darkness, as if returning to the surface from a deep dive. In thest moments of darkness, he heard a series of thunderous crashes, sounding as though an entire cliffside had copsed into the sea from the shoreline.


    He had witnessed a piece of history and heard it tumble into oblivion within the darkness.


    He had seen a phantom in history, one that pleaded with him not to contaminate history.


    Slowly opening his eyes, he saw the familiar cabin and heard the familiar sound of waves. He also saw the familiar marite sitting at the head of the bed, amusingly popping its head off with a “pop,” then stuffing it back on again with equal gusto.


    Duncan: “…?”