Ashes Of Deep Sea

Chapter 240: Chapter 244: A Corner of the Veil

Duncan approached the door and once again verified its status with unease.

The “Subspace Door” was truly closed— he had indeed been to the other side of it, and the effortless shutting had indeed completely sealed off this door, which was difficult to move in the physical dimension.

He let out a soft breath and looked up above the door.

The line of ancient, mysterious text was still clearly imprinted on the frame: “This door leads to the Homeloss.”

“Leads to the Homeloss…” Duncan couldn’t help but recall the scene on the other side of the door, the Homeloss that sailed through the subspace, looking as though it had been abandoned and decayed for countless years. He suddenly had a hint of realization about the words on the doorframe.

The text on the door was true, the other side truly led to the Homeloss—a twisted projection of the actual dimension’s Homeloss in subspace.

Duncan grabbed the lantern, turned around, and left the lower deck without hesitation, crossing through the cargo hold with inversely reflected light and shadows and the upper structures, returning to the captain’s chamber.

“Ah! Captain, you’re back!” The goat-headed creature was still here, confused, and blurted out the first thing on seeing Duncan return, “Why did you leave so suddenly, just now you said you went to the subspace? This is no joking matter—”

“I’ve closed the ‘Subspace Door’ below deck,” Duncan casually said while placing the lantern down, “I just went down to check it from ‘this side’.”

The goat-headed creature’s speech was suddenly choked off, and a “crack” was heard between its head and the table.

Duncan couldn’t help but give it a glance: “Take it easy, don’t end up with the same problem as Alice.”

However, the goat-headed creature ignored the jest in the captain’s tone, not disguising its astonishment at all: “You closed that door!? You mean, from the other side of subspace… you closed the door?”

“What else?” Duncan countered, “Isn’t that door unable to be closed from ‘this side’? Otherwise, why would I go to all this effort?”

“You… You did it just for that?” The goat-headed creature was almost incoherent at this point, “You entered subspace and returned to the physical dimension, all to close that door from the other side? That’s… that’s not just an ordinary wooden door of a storage room or closet, you just… closed it?!”

Duncan’s mood lightened.

He watched the goat-headed creature with pleasure, witnessing the normally chatty creature who could nag someone’s brain into boiling fall into a state of incoherence, shaking incessantly as if it were in vibration mode, his facial expression remained calm, and inside he was about to burst with joy.

Duncan knew he hadn’t made things clear yet, leading the goat-headed creature to some misunderstandings—but mostly, he wanted to see how this creature would twist its lips, which was the greatest joy for someone sailing the Endless Sea.

In the midst of his amusement, the slight oppressive feeling from exploring the “Fragmented Homeloss” and that dark space also lessened significantly.

But eventually, Duncan spoke up, as the matter concerned subspace, and clarifying some things could avoid future risks. Plus, the goat-headed creature knew a lot of hidden knowledge, and its insights might be of help: “I know you’re in a hurry, but hold on, listen to me—I did indeed close the door, but this venture into subspace was an accident, and I also need to hear your opinion.”

“An… accident?” The goat-headed creature paused, its tone turning immediately from astonishment to extreme seriousness, “Please tell, what exactly happened?”

Duncan then told the goat-headed creature about his sudden entrance into subspace upon waking from a light sleep—of course, he omitted the details of exploring the dark space and instead focused on the door at the bottom of the ship and the various sights he had seen looking out over the chaos from the deck.

After all, nowadays apart from his “true name” and “origin,” there wasn’t much he needed to hide from the goat-headed creature, and the secrecy of his true name and origin was more about maintaining stability in the Homeloss, which had to be founded on the “anchor” of “Captain Duncan.”

The goat-headed creature listened to Duncan’s narration with utmost seriousness, not uttering a single word.

Then it admitted that it also did not know what had happened…

“According to your description, that indeed was Subspace,” the goat-headed creature said calmly, “but I have never heard of a case like yours where you directly… ‘entered’ there in your sleep and came back unscathed… You see, although Subspace poses a severe threat to our dimension, it doesn’t mean it is easy to ‘arrive’ there; its danger more often lies in its unpredictable contamination.

“The loopholes in the mind, the wavering of faith, the wrong sacrifices, all these could lead to the infiltration of Subspace power, but ‘infiltration’ and going in like you did to… ‘explore’ are completely different concepts.”

At this point, it paused, then turned its head, its hollow black eyes staring straight at Duncan: “Captain, did you really not get affected at all over there? Do you truly… not feel anything lingering in your mind?”

“Not at all,” Duncan spread his hands, smiling earnestly, “Do I look like I’m out of my mind? I feel completely normal.”

The goat head suddenly ran out of words.

Duncan, thoughtful, said, “I always see you worried about Homeloss falling into Subspace again, I thought it was easy to fall in….”

“This… is a relative concept,” the goat head explained somewhat embarrassingly, “Falling from our dimension is very dangerous, but even for Homeloss, it’s not something that just ‘happens’; ‘it’s dangerous to fall in’ and ‘easy to fall in’ are not the same concept, and… how do I explain this, generally, the victims who unfortunately fall into Subspace… their process and sensations of entering Subspace are completely different from yours; it is an incredibly painful and terrifying process, and it often can’t simply end with death…”

Duncan thought carefully after hearing this and shook his head: “I really didn’t feel anything…”

The goat-head held its breath for a long while, then sighed.

This even shocked Duncan somewhat—it was the first time in history that the chatty creature didn’t say anything, just sighed!

Duncan pondered for a moment, seriously, “…Should I be a bit more solemn?”

The goat-head: “…You truly live up to the name of the wandering disaster of the Endless Sea…”

Not a hint of emotion, the words came out like muscle memory.

“Then let’s not discuss this issue,” Duncan said, waving his hand and quickly changing the subject, “What were those huge shadows I saw in the Subspace? Those shattered lands, debris, and that pale one-eyed giant… what are they all?”

The goat-head suddenly fell silent, and after nearly half a minute, it slowly spoke: “…As you saw, just wreckage.”

“Just wreckage?” Duncan frowned, “That’s hardly an answer. Whose wreckage? Where does it come from? When did it become wreckage? All these…”

“Wreckage of worlds,” the goat-head said, “All those that didn’t live to see today, turned into twisted shadows in Subspace in the ancient past.”

Duncan was stunned for a moment, then solemnly repeated: “Wreckage of worlds?”

The goat-head fell silent again, seemingly hesitating and weighing something, but in the end, it slightly raised its head: “Do you think the Endless Sea is vast? Do you think… our current real world still feels spacious?”

Duncan blinked, then suddenly realized: “You mean, everything in the current dimension of reality…”

“…Yes, what’s left after the fall,” the goat-head said softly, “a mere insignificant residue, with a few stubborn colonies clinging to it.”

Duncan paused, then suddenly thought of something: “Is this the true nature of the Great Annihilation?”

“Just an insignificant part of it,” the goat head said in a deep voice, “The complete truth of the Great Annihilation has been buried in the river of time, trying to piece together its entirety is meaningless.

“In your words, there exists a ‘horizon limit’ there; all information is on the unknowable and unobservable other side. Unless there is some truly omniscient and omnipotent existence that can instantaneously see through from Subspace to the Mysterious Deep Sea, to the Spirit Realm and our dimension, and trace them back ten thousand years, only then could we possibly know what exactly happened during the Great Annihilation — but even so, what would be the point?

“I know you want to ask more, but I’m sorry, this is all I know, and I don’t guarantee all of it is true — I do know some things related to Subspace, but even the so-called ‘truth,’ after being affected by Subspace, might not necessarily be twisted into whatever form; cause and logic and chronological order there are all meaningless, and my fragmented knowledge… I myself do not know how much of it is real memory, and how much is just shadows left from the process of leaving Subspace.”