Before the Sacred Image

Nina was delighted, because it had been a long time since she had last shared such a normal meal with Uncle Duncan and talked about what had happened at school. It had been even longer since she had seen a smile on Uncle Duncan's face.

It even reminded her of the past, of before Uncle Duncan had fallen ill—after losing her parents at the age of six, this fatherly man had become her only family in the world. But four years ago, an illness whose cause even the doctors could not determine had changed Uncle Duncan into someone else entirely. The days since then had been... honestly, difficult.

Uncle Duncan still paid for her schooling and provided for her most basic needs, but Nina could sense that all color related to "the future" had gradually faded from this familiar, welcoming little shop. It had dissipated amid the hard liquor, pills, and the sinister, oppressive gatherings of the suspicious "friends" Uncle Duncan dealt with.

She had long stopped hoping that life could return to what it had been a few years ago, but even the slightest improvement was worth celebrating.

Duncan was also pleased, because he had finally come into contact with more information about this world and finally grasped the threads of its history—even if only part of it. It gave him the satisfying feeling of clouds parting before his eyes.

The completely lost prehistoric Order Era, the Great Annihilation that reshaped the order of all things, the Deep Sea Era that had continued to this day, the anomalies and strange phenomena spread across the world... Things he had once known nothing about, or understood only vaguely, had finally taken on clearer outlines.

Breakfast was over. Nina stood and began clearing the dishes, swift and practiced in her movements. She clearly did these household chores often—there was no doubt that she was also the one who kept the upstairs bedroom tidy.

A man burdened by severe illness, living a dissolute life, and devoting most of his energy and enthusiasm to a cult would obviously not do such things.

But as Duncan watched the girl bustle about, he ultimately could not hold back. He rose and took the large tray from Nina's hands. "I'll carry it—you have trouble going upstairs."

Nina looked at Duncan in surprise. She had just opened her mouth to say something else when he was already striding toward the stairs.

The girl could only hurry after him, reminding him as she followed behind, "Uncle Duncan, be careful. The doctor said your condition still isn't stable..."

"The doctor... Doctor Albert?" Duncan did not turn around. As he climbed the stairs, he searched through fragments of memory for the corresponding impression, but found only a few fleeting images. "It's fine. He still hasn't figured out what caused it anyway, and the most effective medicine he prescribed was just painkillers."

"...You should still follow the doctor's advice," Nina muttered as she followed Duncan to the second floor and headed toward the kitchen. "At least he knows how to maintain a healthy wor—"

Before Nina could finish, the sudden sound of flapping wings interrupted her.

She and Duncan looked toward the sound at the same time, just in time to see a shadow flash past the crack of the half-open master bedroom door.

"Uncle Duncan, something just flashed past in your room!" Nina said in surprise, stepping forward to grab the doorknob. "Could it be the cat next door..."

"Hey, don't—"

Duncan had only managed half a warning when Nina pushed open the half-closed door, revealing the pigeon hiding inside the room.

Ai was standing atop the cabinet, one claw holding a french fry and stuffing it into its beak. The suddenly opened door froze the entire bird. It remained there with one claw raised, staring blankly with its two little green bean eyes at Nina and the wall on the other side.

Then it saw Duncan. It flapped its wings twice and made a loud sound. "Ah... coo?"

Duncan's eyelid twitched. The window nearby was wide open, clearly Ai's escape route—and in the distance beyond it, a dock could vaguely be seen basking in sunlight.

This pigeon had gone to the dock and brought back some french fries...

"A pigeon?" Nina finally came to her senses and stared at Ai atop the cabinet in astonishment. "Uncle Duncan! There's a pigeon in your room!"

"I can see that," Duncan said expressionlessly. "I don't know it."

Ai immediately tossed away the french fry, flapped over, and landed on Duncan's shoulder, bobbing its head.

"All right, it flew in this morning," Duncan sighed. "It might be someone's tame pigeon, but it isn't very smart. I gave it something to eat, and now it won't leave."

Ai let out a loud series of coos.

If there had not been an outsider present, and if Duncan had not given it orders earlier, it would definitely have started loudly agreeing by now.

Nina did not doubt her uncle's explanation at all. Her eyes simply lit up as she looked at the pigeon, then she cautiously drew closer, watching for the pigeon's reaction as she asked Duncan, "Then... then are you going to keep it? Can I raise it?"

The girl's thoughts were written all over her face. In her eyes, Ai was clearly just a beautiful, adorable white pigeon. Ai tilted its head at Duncan and let out an inquisitive coo.

Duncan suddenly felt that this bird was easier to understand when it did not speak than when it did...

After a moment, he pretended to hesitate before nodding. "Sure—but only if this pigeon is willing to stay. It might fly away someday, so don't complain when that happens."

Nina beamed. "That's wonderful! I knew Uncle Duncan was actually a reasonable person!"

In the central prayer chamber of the Deep Sea Grand Cathedral, City Bishop Valentine stood solemnly before the sacred image of the Goddess of Storms, clad in a black high priest's robe embroidered with golden patterns.

He was tall and thin, with sparse white hair and eyes as calm as deep water.

The great candelabrum in the prayer chamber burned quietly, its sacred flames illuminating the room. Gemona's sacred image stood high upon the platform. The Goddess had no face, her head covered by black gauze, while a long dress patterned with countless wave-like ripples draped from her body all the way to the platform's edge. Though it was only a Stone Statue, divine power still manifested here. The entire sacred image radiated an intense sense of presence; anyone standing near it could faintly feel as if they were being watched over and protected.

That sensation of being watched over and protected was real. It was precisely beneath that watchful protection that Vana, who had come to discuss matters with the bishop, could openly recount everything she had seen in her dream.

"...If what you saw in the dream was correct, then it was indeed the Lost Homeland."

City Bishop Valentine turned and looked at the young Inquisitor who had come to see him early that morning. Although, in terms of Church rank, Inquisitors who commanded force and City Bishops who oversaw rites were equals, it was perfectly normal for an Inquisitor to seek a bishop's advice—or even guidance—when assessing supernatural incidents.

"So it really was the Lost Homeland?" Though she already had an answer in her heart, Vana could not help widening her eyes upon hearing the bishop's judgment. "I thought..."

"You thought that ship was merely a legend now, like the tales of ghost ships nervy sailors wildly boast about in taverns?" Valentine knew what Vana meant. The sparsely white-haired old man shook his head, his tone grave. "The existence of the Lost Homeland is a fact acknowledged by every city-state and Church. It is not a legend, but something that can be found in Church records."

"I know that the Lost Homeland once truly existed. Pland's city-state archives even contain some of the ship's construction plans and commencement records from more than a century ago. But all those verifiable records only date back to when the Lost Homeland was still a ship sailing in the Real World, when Captain Duncan was still human..."

Vana spoke with a grave expression. She looked toward the sacred image behind the bishop, and her face became increasingly cautious whenever she mentioned certain words.

"The key is that the ship was explicitly recorded as having fallen into Subspace... A century ago, thousands of refugees from the Thirteen Islands of Viseran witnessed the ship and their homeland being swallowed by the collapse at the frontier, plunging straight into Subspace's shadow. In the decades that followed, there were constant sightings claiming that the Lost Homeland had reappeared in the Real World, but none had any real evidence. Quite a number of scholars doubted that ship's 'return voyage'..."

As the young Inquisitor spoke, she looked at the old man before her.

"Can something swallowed by Subspace truly reappear in the Real World?"

"...To date, nothing other than the Lost Homeland has ever returned to reality after falling into Subspace. Even for the Lost Homeland, there are only retrospective sighting reports, and scholars in every field doubt the ship's return voyage. That is indeed true, but it is not the key point..." As he spoke, the old man's gaze suddenly settled on Vana, his face taking on an unusual severity. "The key point is, Inquisitor, are you afraid of something?"