日本少妇被黑人xxxxx

Chapter 709: Holy Land Island

She paused, seemingly lost in thought or perhaps listening to a distant sound, before continuing, “And there’s this eerie message that Commander Polekhine received. She was near the engine room when she heard a voice in her head saying, ‘You will become like them, just like us.’ She believes the voice might be coming from something or someone underwater.”

Now deeply concerned by the reports from these crucial ships in the joint fleet, Duncan furrowed his brow. The message from the Unresolved was particularly troubling. “Could this be a case of psychic contamination?” he wondered aloud.

Agatha uncertainly replied, “It’s hard to say now. Commander Polekhine is currently undergoing a mental recalibration at the church to ascertain what she really experienced. It seems she might have encountered some lingering psychic echo in this part of the sea.”

After pondering the situation, Duncan asked, “Have there been any reports of actual damage to the ships?”

Vanna shook her head, “Nothing significant at this time. The collisions are only from those ‘humanoid objects’ hitting the ships. They haven’t posed any real physical threat to our hulls. However, some crew members have reported strange sounds emanating from the steam engines, suggesting a slight contamination. But as of now, the contamination level is low. All affected systems have returned to normal after the crews performed calming rituals.”

Duncan nodded, his expression grave. He remained silent for a moment, his gaze fixed on the distant, ominous sea.

From the direction of the six-mile limit, dark humanoid shapes continued to float towards the joint fleet, resembling lifeless bodies in the water. They seemed driven by some unseen force, repeatedly colliding with the ships and pounding at their hulls.

These constant, unsettling thuds were creating a psychological strain on every ship in the fleet.

However, Duncan knew the church-trained elites on board were well-prepared for such psychological pressures, so he wasn’t overly concerned.

After a moment of contemplation, he decided it was time to move the fleet forward, albeit slowly.

At that moment, Lucretia, feeling a mix of anxiety and duty, approached her father. “We are nearing the six-mile limit,” she reminded him cautiously, “Should we continue to advance? In these border waters, our usual navigation methods are unreliable. We need to keep a safe distance from the limit. Otherwise, we risk inadvertently crossing into unknown territory.”

“We’re not in any danger of ‘crossing the border’,” Duncan reassured Lucretia, giving her a glance that conveyed both confidence and attentiveness. He could feel the pulse of the entire ship beneath his fingertips. “Don’t worry, Lucy. I’m armed with the most precise ‘sea chart’ known to man. It updates the Vanished’s position and journey distance in real time. I’ll halt our advance if the ‘Holy Land’ remains unseen at the six-mile limit.”

Lucretia seemed to have more to say, her mouth opening hesitantly. Yet, the sight of Duncan’s confident and reassuring smile made her reconsider. She held her words back, trusting her father’s judgment.

Duncan then shifted part of his supernatural perception toward the captain’s quarters. There, he could vividly “see” the ‘sea chart’ laid out on the table, “functioning” as it should, subtly transforming with each moment the Vanished moved through the water.

As the ship continued its journey, the fog depicted on the chart gradually lifted, revealing the Vanished’s path. The ship’s progress was slight, almost undetectable to an ordinary observer. But Duncan, with his heightened senses and control over the ship, was aware of every minute shift and change.

Outside, the number of drifting humanoid figures surrounding the Vanished seemed to have increased, creating an even more eerie atmosphere.

But then, something new caught Duncan’s attention on the edge of the sea chart – an uncharted “sea mark” materialized within the mist on the ancient parchment.

The instant he perceived this change, Duncan instinctively looked up toward the direction the Vanished was facing.

Through the thick fog, a faint outline of land began to materialize.

It was right at the boundary of the six-mile limit!

“Land!” Nina’s voice, filled with excitement and anticipation, rang out from the high stern platform. Her eyes were wide with awe as she witnessed the shadowy form becoming more defined through the mist, exclaiming, “Land in sight!”

Indeed, land had appeared. The emerging land in this direction was, without a doubt, the destination of the joint fleet—the place known as the “Holy Land” among the followers of the Annihilation Cult.

As the Vanished and the several other church warships trailing it also began to discern the land’s outline, a palpable tension filled the air. Realizing that the “Holy Land” was situated precisely at the precarious six-mile limit, everyone on board braced themselves.

At the stern of each church warship, billows of white steam erupted from the onboard chapels, and holy grease was lavishly poured into the sacred fire basins. Sailors murmured the names of their gods under their breath as they hurried to their posts. Meanwhile, robed priests emerged onto the deck, sprinkling holy water over the cannons, lighting incense, and imbuing the cannonballs with prayers and blessings.

As the fleet continued its cautious approach toward the so-called “Holy Land,” the presence of dark, humanoid forms drifting from that direction became more frequent. The occasional collision of floating debris against the hulls of the ships created a continuous, unsettling rhythm of thuds. Each impact resonated through the ship’s structure, echoing like a steady heartbeat, unceasing and ominous.

In the midst of this tense atmosphere, Lucretia, with strips of colorful paper fluttering around her, climbed up to the crow’s nest at the mast’s peak. From this elevated vantage point, she peered through the low-visibility fog at the island emerging in the distance. After taking in the scene, she descended back to the deck, where Duncan stood in silent contemplation.

“There are faint lights visible on the island, but no movement or signs of life. There’s a pervasive sense of emptiness, an unsettling quietness. Something doesn’t feel right,” she reported, her voice laced with a hint of unease.

Duncan acknowledged her observation with a slight nod, then made a subtle gesture to his side.

Responding to his silent call, a plump white dove descended somewhat clumsily from the yardarm, landing with a soft thud on Duncan’s shoulder.

He turned to the dove with a raised eyebrow, noting its substantial size: “…You might consider losing some weight.”

The dove, known as Ai, tilted its head and responded with a loud, assertive coo: “Send me 50! Send me 50!”

Duncan let out a sigh, deciding to ignore the bird’s noisy protest of demanding payment. Instead, he focused his mind and issued a silent command.

In an instant, Ai was engulfed in flames, its form transforming into a fiery skeletal dove before shooting up into the sky.

As the bone dove ascended, wrapped in flames, it cut through the fog like a reverse meteor, swiftly closing in on the shadowy, dark island from above.

On the deck of the Vanished, Duncan narrowed his eyes as he concentrated.

Through the shared vision with the flaming dove, his mind began to construct a distorted yet somewhat recognizable aerial view of the island.

Ai was rapidly nearing the island’s coast, revealing its jagged, torn edges as if it had been savagely torn from the sea. A narrow, hidden harbor, barely noticeable unless seen from above, came into view. Further inland, Duncan could make out roads, scattered buildings of various sizes, and numerous strange, sharp structures resembling stalagmites dotting the landscape. The scale was large, but the details were murky.

Lucretia’s observations were confirmed; there was no movement, no signs of life.

The joint fleet, a beacon of fire in the dense fog, a giant bird ablaze and swooping over the harbor—if none of these elicited any response from the Annihilators supposedly entrenched on the island, there was only one plausible explanation.

“It seems there’s no one on the island—at least no living souls,” Duncan concluded, a sense of foreboding settling over him.

As Duncan maintained the shared vision with Ai, he turned to Lucretia, who stood beside him on the deck and began to speak. The crew members around them exchanged concerned and curious glances, sensing the gravity of the situation.

“No living souls on the island…” Vanna’s voice broke the heavy silence as she slightly widened her eyes, her gaze fixed in the direction of the ominous landmass. “Did they flee? Or perhaps they perished? Or maybe…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes sweeping across the deck with an uneasy expression. They finally rested on the ‘humanoid roughcast’ that lay quietly on the deck, vigilantly guarded by the doll, Luni.

With a sense of urgency, Duncan commanded, “…Notify the people from the Storm and Death Church; we need to cautiously approach that island. Everyone, follow closely—don’t lose sight in the fog.”

At Duncan’s order, the entire fleet began a slow, deliberate advance towards the eerie, jagged black island, radiating a palpable dread.

As they neared, the island’s details became increasingly visible, revealing more of its discordant and unsettling features.

“Its edges appear as if they’ve been violently torn from a larger mass,” Duncan narrated the unfolding scene from Ai’s perspective to his companions, “We’re heading towards the western coast, which is riddled with cluster-like rock formations. But hidden among these cliffs is a waterway leading to an inner harbor—it seems relatively accessible.”

“Is the Vanished, a ship of this size, capable of entering there?” Nina inquired, her curiosity piqued.

“It’s theoretically possible, but I’m not keen on just sailing straight in—nor should the other ships,” Duncan mused, his tone serious. “We’re still in the dark about many aspects of this island. My plan is to halt the fleet at that ‘strait,’ then dispatch a team in smaller boats to land and reconnoiter the area before sending more people ashore.”

The others around him nodded, understanding the prudence in his strategy.

Suddenly, Duncan’s attention snapped forward. He sensed an unexpected change.

The ship, which had served as a light beacon throughout their journey and had been seized from the cultists, began to accelerate of its own accord.

Its speed was inexplicably increasing, as if it had suddenly been released from invisible shackles, now hurtling towards the “Holy Land” without any command from Duncan.

It moved with an unnatural lightness as if it were as light as the breeze.

In almost an instant, it had traversed the fog-enshrouded waters and reached the cliff-lined edge of the island, where numerous imposing rocks jutted out like the teeth of some gigantic beast.

Then, with no sign of slowing or hesitation, it collided violently with the rocks.