Chapter 702 Leaving Port

Goathead was panicking now, especially panicking—although the captain told him not to panic, his head almost went into vibration mode the moment he heard the news.

Even Alice next to him, after overhearing the news the captain brought, had her head scared off—literally scared off; it hadn't been reattached yet.

"You're saying… the entire kingdom of Gokrit, from top to bottom, every single individual, was copied from a part of my remains," Goathead said, eyes wide. "And the Deepsea Lord did the copying?"

"Yes," Duncan nodded. "This also explains many of the historical puzzles of the ancient Kritian kingdom that have always troubled scholars—such as why this ancient kingdom left behind almost no systematic cultural data—because they were a short-lived group 'manufactured' for 'Genesis,' and originally had no cultural system of their own; such as why Kritian 'ruins' are distributed on islands that are completely unsuitable for survival, even shrouded in anomalies, because all ancient Kritian cities were built as infrastructure for Genesis, not as settlements…"

Goathead's tone became increasingly complex: "You know that's not what I'm concerned about…"

"…Suddenly learning that an ancient race is actually your 'descendant' is indeed a bit shocking," Duncan said after a moment of silence, trying to keep a straight face. "To be honest, I was quite surprised when I first heard the news…"

At this moment, Alice, who hadn't interrupted much, suddenly spoke up: "But… but… but… Goat…"

"Put your head back on before you talk," Duncan said, rolling his eyes at the doll. "Sitting next to me holding your head is quite frightening."

Alice hadn't put her head back on after it had been scared off earlier and had been sitting next to Duncan, intently listening to the gossip. Being reminded now, she flusteredly reacted, said "Oh," and quickly pressed her head onto her neck, immediately making her speech smoother: "But isn't Goathead originally the Elven God? If you have to say it, all the elves in the world could be considered his descendants, he should be able to accept it, right…"

"Easier said than done," Goathead immediately turned his head away, resentment seeming to seep from his base. "I was asleep when half my body was taken to be used as a culture medium, okay? And it would be fine if it was just an ancient race, but this also includes a group of Doomsday Apostles! I knew there was something wrong with those mumbling 'apostles' from the start, they came on board and immediately prostrated themselves to kiss the deck, I'm telling you, if the material allowed, I would have gotten goosebumps at the time—I'm getting goosebumps just thinking about it now! What is all this, waking up from a nap and…"

Seeing Goathead quickly entering babbling mode, Duncan had to knock on the table twice to quiet the somewhat agitated first mate, then cleared his throat twice to break the silence: "Ahem, the Doomsday Apostles were once normal Kritians."

Goathead paused, reluctantly turning his neck: "I knew that… now I know… and even now, some of them aren't that crazy… but still…"

He "butted" for a long time without getting anywhere, only mumbling for a while before it all turned into a helpless sigh, his head drooping, no longer speaking.

Alice couldn't help but look at Goathead a few more times, then raised her head and looked at Duncan somewhat helplessly, hesitating before opening her mouth: "Captain… the first mate doesn't seem very happy."

"It's not about being happy or unhappy, it's just suddenly receiving extremely shocking news, he needs to rest and then calmly think for a while," Duncan sighed softly, rising from behind the navigation table. "Let's not disturb him."

"Oh," Alice replied, obediently getting up from her chair and following Duncan out of the captain's cabin. As she passed the edge of the chart table, she stopped again, hesitated for a moment, then reached out and touched Goathead's head. "Get some rest… you still have to teach me how to cook Southern cuisine later…"

Duncan listened from the side, his eyes twitching involuntarily, but this time he didn't say anything, just silently shook his head and turned to walk out onto the deck.

The sea breeze was gentle, the waves rippled, the distant sea sparkled, still a good day.

Duncan and Alice strolled onto the deck and then found Vanna also on the deck, leaning against the railing, looking thoughtful as she gazed into the distance.

The sea breeze blowing from the border area raised Vanna's silver-white hair. Hearing the movement behind her, she turned her head, brushed back her long hair, and smiled: "Captain, Alice."

"I thought you would spend more time chatting with Helena," Duncan nodded, walking leisurely to the railing. "Such significant intelligence must be very shocking to everyone."

"Yes, such significant intelligence—so Her Holiness the Pope probably won't have much time to chat with me next," Vanna laughed, shaking her head. "She should still be in a meeting with the other Holinesses… Whether it's the origin of the ancient Kritian kingdom, or the future of our world called 'Sanctuary,' or those… already insane 'Doomsday Survey Teams,' it's enough to make a lot of people lose a lot of hair."

"…After that, has there been any movement from Anomaly 004?" Duncan asked.

"No," Vanna shook her head. "After you left, we left a few observers. They reported that there has been no movement in the assembly area so far… And in the past, even if the main body of the mausoleum didn't appear, there would occasionally be strange noises or shadows in the assembly area… It seems that, as you said, Anomaly 004 has completely closed itself off from the outside world."

"…Like the 'sun' above our heads, that 'mausoleum' has also reached the end of its lifespan, its mission is over," Duncan said calmly. "The tomb keeper warned us that even if we receive messages from the mausoleum in the future, we should not respond in any way, and we should not send anyone in again… If anything comes out of the mausoleum, even if the tomb keeper himself walks out of it, we must not respond, but instead, we must stay away as soon as possible… That is no longer the Anomaly 004 you know."

"We know, Her Holiness the Pope has warned all the saints that from now on, Anomaly 004 will become a complete forbidden zone. Except for a team of rotating monks who will be stationed on the edge of the assembly area to monitor the situation, no one will approach the 'Tomb of the Nameless King'…"

Vanna said in a low voice, gradually becoming silent again. After a few seconds, she suddenly sighed: "…Another matter has ended."

Yes, another matter has ended—but what was she referring to? Was it this very special "gathering"? Or the "monitoring-summoning-listening" process for the Tomb of the Nameless King, which had become a tradition in the Four Gods Church for thousands of years? Or… a legacy left for this world by the ancient creators?

In any case, they were all over.

"Did that tomb keeper mention any knowledge about the 'sun' to you?" After a moment of silence, Vanna suddenly said. "Did he mention how the 'sun' was built, or… if there is any way to repair it, even if it's just to extend its…"

Duncan gently shook his head.

"He is just a guardian, a guardian who was imprisoned in an observation station transformed into an anomaly after all the systems were shut down and all the engineers and designers had left. He has already told me everything he knows, but the sun…"

Duncan paused, looking towards the distant sea.

Anomaly 001—the Sun was moving slowly in the sky, like an old and dying man, staggering towards his destination.

"The sun is a massive project built jointly by the 'Crawling King' and the entire Kritian race. This is not something a guardian can understand."

"…I suppose," Vanna said, shaking her head self-deprecatingly. "I expected too much."

"Yes, but it doesn't matter, because this is the problem I'm going to solve next," Duncan glanced at Vanna, saying in a gentle tone. "We'll just go find that 'designer' from the Deepsea Era—starting with opening a door."

As his voice fell, a slight creaking sound rang out from the depths of the Vanishing Sail at the same time. Immediately afterwards, Vanna felt a slight vibration coming from under her feet, and then, the translucent spirit sail slowly appeared on the mast—

The Vanishing Sail began to slowly adjust its posture, turning its bow. The huge and majestic ghost ship slowly pointed its bow towards the distant sea—towards the magnificent and boundless mist standing vaguely at the edge of the world.

…

At Light Breeze Port, the solemn and sacred Storm Cathedral was still quietly docked near the coastline. A priest wearing a blue and black robe rushed through the corridors and arches of the upper cathedral district and nearly ran to the door of the Pope's prayer room: "Your Holiness! Her Holiness the Pope! That ship—the Vanishing Sail has moved! It suddenly turned its course ten minutes ago and accelerated away from Light Breeze Port!"

"I know," Helena's voice came from the prayer room, her voice magnetic as if with a magic that calmed people. "There's no need to be so alarmed, it's just time."

As the voice fell, the graceful and elegant lady turned her head and focused her attention on the ritual brazier in front of her again.

A part of her spirit delved into the brazier, still staying in the channel constructed by the psychic communication.

"…The Vanishing Sail has set off, Vanna just sent me a message… Yes, the *Tide* is already on the way with its escort ships, they will arrive at the agreed gathering place on time…

"Banster, what about your come-back-from-the-dead fleet?"

A gloomy voice entered Helena's mind: "It's the *Rest* and the *No Rest*, Helena."

"Alright, alright, they're all about the same anyway… Where are they?"

"They have also set off, don't worry—we will all arrive on time."