Chapter 169: Chapter 173: The Fire is Spreading
Subspace pollution does not dissipate on its own, just as justice does not assert itself — after so many years of battling against the deep, distorting shadows of the world, Fenna was all too aware of this.
If this church had once been polluted by subspace, and if the nun on duty had already fallen to the pollution, then the thing that invaded this place would certainly not just disappear on its own — considering the eerie “echo” of the nun in the main hall of the church and the somewhat off atmosphere of the entire Sixth District, the great doors of the Underground Sanctuary had clearly failed to block the invaders of this land, so… where had the invading subspace force gone now?
Fenna lifted the lantern in her hand, in which whale oil imbued with holy power burned quietly, illuminating everything in the Underground Sanctuary as the light touched it. The marks of blades and bullet strikes scattered across the walls seemed like texts repeatedly inscribed by a closed-off space-time, calmly recounting secrets to her.
…Texts?
Fenna suddenly knitted her brows, as if a flash of lightning had streaked across her mind.
If the nun who died here in the Underground Sanctuary had foreseen her own fate at the moment she closed the doors, might she have tried to leave some record by some means to warn the investigators who would come after?
That would be the expected response of a well-trained holy servant!
“Check here again,” she abruptly raised her head and ordered the warriors beside her in a loud voice, “All the traces, sword cuts, bullet marks, bloodstains, all of it — this sister might have left behind some kind of message before she fell in battle!”
“Yes!”
The guardians swiftly got into action, scattering in all directions with lanterns in their hands, starting a more thorough and targeted search in this Underground Sanctuary that had already been searched once.
Fenna, of course, was not idle herself. Having realized that the fallen nun might have left a message before her death, she returned to where the other had died, back to the entrance of the Underground Sanctuary, carefully examining the ground and walls near the door.
— She had just completely shattered the doors of the Sanctuary, but she believed that there would not be a message on that door, for the Sanctuary’s door was part of a precise sealing mechanism, and it bore the Holy Symbols of the Goddess. Leaving marks on it would weaken the Sanctuary’s defenses, something the nun would not have done.
The nun holding the longsword still lay serenely on the ground, her uncoagulated blood flowing slowly beneath her.
Fenna crouched down next to the nun’s body, carefully inspecting her from head to toe, then, after considering the angle at which the nun had fallen when she had broken through the door, she surmised the position and orientation of the nun at the time of her death. Bending at the most likely angle, Fenna then pried open the tightly clutched hand of the nun, checking the state of the longsword.
Suddenly, her movements stopped.
Fenna’s gaze fell on the ground beside the nun.
There was a series of sword marks, which at first glance appeared to be chaotic etchings, as though the imprints on the ground had been made by someone who could not steady their sword as they neared death.
In previous inspections, Fenna and her subordinates had overlooked these marks, but this time, the young Judge finally realized that these seemingly random scratches were actually a “message” that had been severely distorted and then etched repeatedly.
“Here,” she lifted her head and spoke out to the guardians who were searching around, then dropped her gaze again, carefully discerning the intelligence within the sword marks.
After a while, she made out a few characters:
“1885”
It was merely a string of numbers.
The guardians had gathered around, standing beside Fenna, and from those sword marks, they too discerned this string of numbers. The bearded guardian at the head, obviously unaware of what the characters meant, looked at his superior officer in confusion: “Judge, these numbers… Judge?”
He saw shock spread across Fenna’s face — at the sight of that string of numbers, her eyes had widened as if thunder had boomed inside her heart, and even the usually steadfast and composed Judge couldn’t control her expression.
Fenna came to her senses amidst her subordinates’ cries, taking a deep breath, her heart pounding furiously. Memories of searching alone through the archive resurfaced, recalling those strange records of heretical cults, the archives going back from the year 1889, and the missing records from 1885…
All these memories, finally converged on this Underground Sanctuary, on these chaotic sword marks before her eyes: 1885.
“It’s the year 1885… she’s reminding us with her last breath that she actually died in the year 1885…”
Fenna murmured to herself, but the guardians surrounding her exchanged looks of confusion, with one frowning and asking, “But why did she specifically emphasize that year?”
“To prove that she didn’t die in the year 1889…” Fenna began instinctively, but she cut herself off as realization dawned upon her, her face likewise displaying incomprehension, “Right… why would she emphasize that year… If she died in 1885, she couldn’t possibly know that a disaster would strike the City-State four years later…”
The young Judge was plunged into confusion. A multitude of clues had surfaced and seemed to be on the verge of converging, but there was a gaping chasm preventing her thoughts from fully connecting.
If the numbers left by the Nun were meant to indicate the year of her death, then that year must hold particular significance, hiding within it the “warning” she sought to convey. But… what warning could be so tightly linked to the year 1885?
Had the Nun seen something before her death? Could she have foreseen the records of 1885 disappearing from the cathedral’s archives? Or did she know why those records would disappear?
Alas, the truth had faded with her cooling blood, lost to the passage of time. With the closing of the Underground Sanctuary’s gates, the secrets known by the Nun were fated to remain undiscovered, her life-spanning attempt to impart a series of incomprehensible numbers to Fenna all that was left.
Fenna raised her head and saw the attending guardians focused on her, their gazes filled not just with concern but also with wary observation.
“I visited the cathedral’s archives before,” she gathered her thoughts and said to her subordinates, “and for some reason, all the records from 1885 were missing. Now it seems that year is definitely…”
She stopped abruptly.
Scenes of her seeking records in the archives inexplicably flashed through her mind again, as if another force was insistently reminding her, drawing her back to those memories of walking among the massive bookshelves. Amidst these recollections, she suddenly heard the faint sound of waves.
Fenna’s eyes slowly widened.
She still couldn’t recall anything other than her solitary search through the archives, but she was now aware there might be a problem with her memories from there—her spiritual talent was sounding an alert, and the goddess was warning her, too!
“Return to the cathedral,” she suddenly said to the guardians beside her, “I need to make a trip to the archives!”
The guardians exchanged looks, unsure why the Judge was so anxious and serious, but they quickly stopped hesitating and immediately accepted the order.
As the guardians prepared to depart, one of them glanced at the ground next to them and suddenly cried out, “The writing is disappearing!”
Fenna immediately looked in the direction of the voice, a faint green light reflected in her eyes.
Her breath caught in her throat.
On the ground, the marks carved by the dying Nun were gradually vanishing, like pencil scribbles being erased from paper, and where the sword marks were disappearing, tiny green flames almost imperceptible to the naked eye flickered—these “sparks” seemingly originating from an undetectable dimension, now suddenly appearing before the eyes of those in the material world.
Fenna was all too familiar with these green flames!
It was their master who had led her to this church!
In that moment, endless speculations surfaced in her mind—about the Homeloss, the Ghost Ship’s captain, Subspace, and the numbers “1885”—yet none of the guesses seemed to fit.
No one could explain what role the Ghost Ship’s captain was playing. Fenna couldn’t understand why their flames were erasing those marks right before her eyes, but one thing was clear—she couldn’t stay here long; she had to return to the cathedral immediately.
In the blink of an eye, the marks on the ground had disappeared, and the mysterious green light had gradually vanished from everyone’s sight.
“Don’t go near that part of the floor, be careful in case the flames are still spreading outside the visible spectrum,” Fenna warned her subordinates, “Now, withdraw from this church—Team Two will stay outside the church and establish a blockade to wait for orders, the rest will follow me back to the cathedral.”
The guardians responded in unison, “Yes!”
Fenna nodded, then after a moment’s thought, she further instructed, “Also, notify the standby troops in the nearby blocks… seal off the entire Sixth District.”
Fenna led the guardians through the main hall of the small church.
A guardian glanced unconsciously towards the statue of the goddess and suddenly exclaimed, “That praying ‘Nun’ has vanished too!”