Shrouded Seascape

Roy gripped the helm, his eyes anxiously watching the ajar door to the bridge. The old captain had been gone for quite a while now, and he was arguing with the black-clad devotees.

How come he hadn't returned yet? Were they fighting?

Roy glanced behind him and saw the white-haired first mate and the second mate speaking in hushed tones. Their apparent cautiousness made the atmosphere in the bridge even more solemn.

Just then, the door burst open, and Captain Roger of the Narwhale stormed into the bridge.

"Old buddy, how did it go? Did you manage to convince those amateurs to reactivate the AIS?" the first mate asked.

"Does my face look like I succeeded? Hmph! They claim that it's their rule, and we just have to follow it. Those people are insane! I've been sailing for so many years, but I've never heard of such an outrageous demand. If I had known that they'd do something like this, I wouldn't have agreed even for ten times the pay!"

The AIS had just been developed in the 1990s, which was just a short time ago, but it had drastically reduced the number of maritime accidents and navigational errors.

In other words, no sailor would sail without the AIS, but Roger had just encountered people who didn't want to use it.

"What do we do? How about we report them to the coast guard? It is mandatory for ships over five hundred tons to have AIS installed and turned on at all times."

"You actually want to report your employer?" Roger glared sarcastically at the speaker. "How clever of you. That head of yours sure is full of brilliant ideas. I think the president should step down and let you take over."

"Well, we have to find a way."

Roger ran his hand over the gleaming instrument panel, and his eyes were full of reluctance as he said, "What else can we do here? We'll just sail like this for now. It should be fine. We just have to be a bit more cautious and work a bit harder.

"After some time, I'll try and convince them again."

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Roger was an old captain who had seen enough of the world, and his heart had long been tempered enough not to falter in a trivial matter like this. Compared to what he had seen out at sea, a ship with no AIS was indeed a trivial matter.

Roger wasn't angry at the fact that they wanted the AIS disabled. He was furious at the fact that they had challenged his authority at sea. Just then, he recalled something and turned to the wall clock. Then, he looked at Roy at the helm.

"It's already so late, so why are you still on duty?" he asked Roy.

"They came earlier to take over, but I'm feeling fine, so I told them just to take over the next shift."

"What nonsense is that? Are you really that eager to show off? Listen, everything that happens on a ship must adhere to the protocols. The resting and working hours of helmsmen must be consistent.

An exhausted helmsman must not man the helm!"

"Go and call over the next helmsman! If this happens again, I'm docking your pay!" Roger warned.

Roy reluctantly left the bridge. He liked the feeling of manning the helm, as he felt like everyone's fate was in his hands. He liked the thought that he was contributing greatly to the Fhtagn Covenant, as it was making him feel like he was someone important.

Roy believed that the greater his contributions, the greater the chances that the congregation would resurrect his daughter. Descending the steel staircase, Roy pondered over his performance at work while heading to his sleeping quarters.

The massive ocean liner could accommodate many people, and it was big enough for a Fhtagnist to have their own private room. Roy soon reached his own residence; it was just a five-square-meter cabin. Small, but it was his own private domicile.

Over the next few days, Roy performed his duties diligently, and he was punctual at every single prayer session. He also participated in everything. He was so committed that if he were to claim to be the second most dedicated person aboard, no one would dare to claim first.

Hooonk!

The Narwhale's horn flitted across the clear skies as she cut through the tumultuous waves of the open sea.

Roy was seated in a chair bolted to the deck, and his expression was solemn as he read a book about marine navigation. He was reading a section of the book that contained information about a first mate's duties.

Clearly, Roy was not satisfied with just being a helmsman. He wanted to contribute more to the congregation. Roy became engrossed in his reading, and he continued reading until well into the night when everyone except the night crew had fallen asleep.

Upon reaching the final page of the book, Roy found himself staring at a certain mirror. Roy's expression and demeanor in the mirror changed gradually as his true self emerged.

It had been quite a while since he joined the congregation, and he was finally going to make his move tonight.

An agent absolutely had to refrain from making any movement upon having just infiltrated an organization. A new recruit would be under scrutiny, so it was the most dangerous time to make any moves.

Fortunately, Roy had been in the congregation long enough for him to believe that any scrutinizing eyes had already left him. Roy's years of experience were also telling him that tonight was the perfect time to make a move.

He pulled the small wooden sculpture glued to the table before him and pocketed it. Then, he began planning his next course of action.

After an unknown amount of time, Roy finally left his room, and he walked in his pre-planned route with unhurried, calm steps. He had already created a map that would lead to Anna's quarters, and he had already memorized the patrol patterns of the night crew.

With all of those variables in mind, Roy came to a conclusion—now was the time.

Undetected, Roy arrived at a storage room located three decks diagonally below Anna's domicile. This particular storage room was just within the range of the controllable anomaly's influence, so this was the perfect place to use it.

Of course, Roy had prepared a contingency plan in case someone stumbled upon him here while he was in the middle of his mission. Roy opened one of the storage room's cabinets and retrieved a bottle of alcohol from it.

He opened it and poured some of the brown liquid into the bottle cap before taking a small sip of the liquor. His face revealed satisfaction, and then he continued taking sips as his right hand slipped into his pocket.

"Hm, how do I perform the Level A2 mental training again?" Roy pondered briefly over it before focusing entirely on his right hand. Eventually, he was consumed by darkness, and he seemed to have become a floating eye.

He looked around and saw colorful clouds of mist. Roy was sure that each of the mists represented someone's dream. Recalling his plan, Roy located Anna's dream and went straight into the mist.

When Roy came to his senses, he found himself in what seemed to be a cabin inside an old, derelict ship. The flickering lights were dim, and he could hear rats scurrying across the floor.

"Where am I?" Roy instinctively wondered. A dream was usually constructed of someone's past experiences, but the swaying, the dim wall lamps, and the extremely basic furnishings told Roy that he wasn't inside a modern ship.