Chapter 1 The Black Oak

The White Oak came to a stop on the sea, and the Black Oak, shrouded in a thick fog like a shadow, stopped with it, its hazy silhouette seeming to conceal an invitation.

Laurence looked at the ship, appearing hesitant.

"Should we... send someone to take a look?" First Mate Gus's voice came from beside him, rousing Laurence from his thoughts.

Laurence turned his head, looking at the first mate who had been with him through thick and thin for twenty or thirty years.

"You recognized it too, didn't you?"

"...The last time we saw it was also near Frost," the first mate said, looking at the sea not far away, his tone quite complex. Like Laurence, he was still enveloped in burning green flames, his body appearing as a ghostly, ethereal form. "For so many years, those of us old hands have known about your situation, but no one has dared to mention it..."

Laurence was silent for a moment, then suddenly spoke softly, "Remember not long ago, you saw a figure standing on the deck talking to me?"

The first mate was slightly startled, then immediately realized, "That was..."

"It was Martha—the 'Martha' that only I could see for so many years," Laurence said in a low voice, his words causing the first mate's eyes to widen. "During this time, I saw her on the ship more than once, and I heard her voice when exploring 'Dagger Island'... I always thought it was because this strange sea area was amplifying the illusions in my mind, but now it seems the situation is not so simple."

The first mate slowly turned his head, looking at the Black Oak, shrouded in fog, maintaining its silence and stillness. After a long time, he broke the silence, "This is not an illusion. It's here."

Laurence pursed his lips, as if deep in thought. After a few seconds, he suddenly said, "Send a signal, see if it responds."

The first mate immediately nodded, "Aye, Captain."

A moment later, a set of lights on the White Oak's hull lit up.

The crew, still in a ghostly state, rotated the baffle in front of the searchlight, sending a series of rhythmic flashes to the black "ghost ship" nearby.

Laurence stood on the bridge, staring intently at the direction of the black ghost ship, waiting for it to give some kind of response—yet also seeming to fear seeing it give any response.

"Martha... are you there..."

The tension made him subconsciously grab the handrail beside him, while muttering softly as if to himself.

The next second, in the thick black mist, a flickering point of light appeared on the deck of the Black Oak. The light shone for a few seconds and then went out, then lit up again, repeating three times.

"...It responded," the first mate turned his head, looking at his captain with a somewhat complex expression. "You can wait here, and I'll send a few sailors to check the situation first."

"No, I'll go myself," Laurence waved his hand. In his gradually calming expression, he had obviously made a decision. "If this is really a phenomenon caused by my mind gradually losing control, it would be dangerous to send other sailors to that ship rashly... I need to face this, and only I can solve it personally."

The first mate obviously wanted to say something, but in front of the captain who had already made up his mind, he could only swallow his words of dissuasion, "I understand."

Laurence nodded lightly, "Go help me prepare. Lanterns, ropes, weapons, ammunition, and..."

He suddenly stopped, his gaze turning to the console not far away.

A shriveled, mummified corpse wearing an old-fashioned sailor's smock was carefully and slowly moving towards the side, using the shadows of the console as cover, trying to avoid attracting the attention of others. It had almost reached the capstan.

Laurence thought for a moment, "I'll take it with me—can't leave an out-of-control anomaly on the White Oak, and its condition is too strange."

Anomaly 077 stopped instantly.

At the same time, inside Frost, at the sewage treatment center near Cemetery No. 4, the black-clothed guards were still vigilantly guarding all the intersections, and two other warriors were specially watching over the unlucky manager—the latter was slumped next to a pipe by the sewage sedimentation tank, his face pale and his body still trembling, but he was still trying to answer every question from the guards.

"I don't know, I really don't know... How could I tell..." The only ordinary person left on the scene, the only living "human" in the entire sewage treatment center, the balding middle-aged manager kept wiping the cold sweat from his forehead, his face a mixture of fear and nervousness. "Everything has always been fine here, I've known those people for more than a day, they never seemed to have anything wrong with them..."

"Relax, you're just an ordinary person, it's normal to be deceived by supernatural powers," the black-clothed guard in charge of the questioning had no choice but to appease the terrified manager, while also looking up from time to time at the open space next to the sedimentation tank. "The gatekeeper will deal with those freaks—Ms. Agatha will be back soon."

The manager subconsciously looked at the open space, and then, the terrible scene from not long ago seemed to invade his mind again—three "church priests" suddenly turned into unfamiliar faces, terrifying abyssal demons appeared out of thin air, and a dozen sewage treatment center employees turned into twisted humanoid monsters, engaging in a fierce battle with the black-clothed guards...

The unlucky manager shuddered, quickly closing his eyes, but the darkness brought by closing his eyes triggered new fears, and he opened his eyes, his face still showing lingering fear.

The black-clothed guard next to him noticed this scene, but could only cast a sympathetic look.

Having spent so long unknowingly in a sewage treatment center that had turned into a nest of freaks, surrounded by lurking, ferocious cultists and counterfeit freaks that had been replaced by the original inhabitants—when the truth was suddenly revealed, the fact that he hadn't been scared out of his mind already showed his excellent psychological quality.

Those employees who had been turned into counterfeits were likely replaced by the Sun Chasers, and now this manager was obviously the last one left. If the guards hadn't suddenly broken in here, the manager's fate would probably have been to be replaced as the next "counterfeit"—he obviously could think of this himself, and this kind of fear was indescribable.

After the incident here is over, this manager probably won't be able to return to work at the sewage treatment center—let alone work, he may need long-term psychological treatment to return to normal life, but that's not something the guards need to consider.

The guards were more worried about their superior's situation at the moment—the gatekeeper Agatha's power was beyond doubt, and three ordinary Annihilation Priests plus a dozen counterfeit freaks who could only be considered cannon fodder were not likely to be a match for that lady, but now... she hadn't returned yet.

After a while, even the manager, who was in a state of anxiety and fear, noticed the tense and solemn atmosphere on the scene. He raised his head and glanced at the black-clothed guards who were on alert around him, hesitated for a moment, and couldn't help but ask, "Excuse me... Is the gatekeeper alright?"

"Ms. Agatha is in the spirit world. She's worried that the battle between transcendents will affect you, an ordinary person—and damage the sewage treatment equipment here," a female black-clothed guard said in a deep voice. Her steady voice carried a reassuring power. "Don't worry, no heretic can defeat Bartok's gatekeeper in the spirit world. She's probably continuing to investigate the clues, so she's been delayed in returning."

The manager quickly nodded, "Okay... Okay."

And in the next second, a cold wind suddenly blew through the factory area, and several black-clothed guards guarding the intersections looked towards the open space near the sedimentation tank at the same time.

The female guard who had just spoken breathed a sigh of relief, a smile appearing on her face, "Ah, it looks like Ms. Agatha has solved the trouble."

As the guard's voice fell, one phantom after another suddenly appeared in the open space next to the sedimentation tank—as if another space was reconnecting with the real dimension. Hazy, illusory shadows appeared one after another in the air, and within a few breaths, those shadows quickly solidified into solid objects, falling onto the dirty ground.

They were a dozen counterfeit freaks who had turned into human-shaped mud, and the cold, incomplete corpses of three Annihilation Cultists.

The corpses of the counterfeit freaks quickly "melted" after landing, turning into dried mud that would never squirm again, while the bodies of the Annihilation Cultists began to burn the moment they returned to the real world, turning into piles of coke in a few seconds, and the abyssal demons coexisting with them disappeared into the air before they could even restore their physical bodies.

The manager of the sewage treatment center stared blankly at this surreal scene, even forgetting the fear in his heart for a moment, and then, he saw a whirlwind of gray and white suddenly appear in the center of the open space. The whirlwind seemed to have smoke and mist churning in it, and in the blink of an eye, a figure wearing a black coat and holding a cane condensed out of the gray wind and strode out.

Agatha, with bandages wrapped around her body, looked up, looking at the familiar real dimension in front of her, and the subordinates around her who seemed a little nervous.

"The problem is solved." She nodded lightly to her subordinates, her voice low and carrying a reassuring magnetism, as always.