A doll—beautiful, lifelike, exquisitely crafted—lay motionless inside the ornate wooden coffin. So realistic was her appearance that Duncan had momentarily believed she would awaken at any moment, rising silently from her eternal slumber.
But she didn't awaken. She remained perfectly still, utterly unresponsive.
Duncan studied this unsettling figure cautiously. Though it seemed harmless, something deep within him recoiled at its uncanny realism, the elaborate coffin, and the mysterious circumstances of its arrival aboard the Forsaken. A palpable sense of danger emanated from this silent figure, prompting his instinctual wariness.
After several tense moments, once he was certain the doll would remain lifeless, Duncan relaxed slightly. Still wary, he glanced toward the goat head mounted nearby, asking hesitantly, "What do you make of this?"
The goat head promptly replied, clearly experienced in maritime oddities, "It's likely the precious cargo carried by that ship we encountered. Those markings on the coffin suggest a sacred seal. Chains anchored to its sides further indicate it was heavily restrained. Transporting sealed anomalies on the Endless Sea is extremely hazardous—that vessel must have had significant backing."
"Sealed?" Duncan felt his nerves tighten further as he glanced at the coffin's now fully opened lid, noting the damage that had allowed him to open it effortlessly. Even though he didn't fully understand the concept of supernatural seals, common sense told him this one was thoroughly broken. "You're saying this thing is dangerous?"
"For ordinary humans, undoubtedly. But not for you, Captain. Such trivial anomalies pose no threat to Captain Duncan's authority."
Duncan remained silent, keeping a calm exterior despite his rising anxiety. The goat head's words were comforting—if he truly were the fearsome Captain Duncan. But he wasn't; beneath this intimidating façade was a very confused and very human Zhou Ming, who understood perfectly well that he was not the original master of the Forsaken.
While he might have taken Duncan's identity and body, he held no illusions about sharing the true captain's legendary strength or knowledge. His grasp on this world, the ship itself, and even his new body remained tenuous at best.
He also noticed the goat head's curious choice of words—"anomaly." The emphasis it placed on this word hinted at a broader, more significant meaning. Perhaps in this world, "anomaly" didn't just describe something unusual; maybe it signified a unique category of supernatural objects. Objects like a lifelike doll sealed within a mystical coffin.
Yet, he didn't dare ask directly. Doing so would expose him as an impostor lacking fundamental knowledge. He needed caution, patience, and more information before risking exposure.
With a final, firm glance at the doll, Duncan reached his decision. "I should throw it back into the sea."
Yet as soon as he spoke, a wave of unexpected hesitation swept over him. Not merely because of her ethereal beauty, but because the doll appeared so hauntingly human. The thought of casting her into the ocean felt disturbingly akin to drowning a living person.
However, this unsettling empathy only hardened his resolve. The Forsaken was already overflowing with supernatural dangers—the goat head, self-raising sails, unending lanterns, and the eerie sea itself. He had just encountered a strange mechanical ship carrying a sealed artifact, which now inexplicably sat on his deck. Rationality demanded caution. He couldn't risk keeping such an unknown and possibly hazardous entity aboard merely because it looked human.
Overcoming his hesitation, Duncan resolutely replaced the coffin's lid. As an extra measure of caution, he retrieved a hammer and nails from below deck and secured the coffin tightly shut.
Then he dragged the coffin to the edge of the deck.
"You may do as you wish with your trophies," the goat head remarked dryly. "But humbly, I must suggest you reconsider. It's been quite some time since the Forsaken has gained such a fine prize—"
"Quiet," Duncan snapped, silencing the goat head immediately.
With one forceful kick, he sent the coffin tumbling into the ocean below. It struck the water with a muffled splash, bobbing briefly on the surface before floating slowly away from the ship, carried by gentle waves toward the horizon.
Duncan watched silently until the coffin vanished completely from view. Only then did he exhale in relief.
He glanced upward, noticing for the first time the thick fog had fully dispersed, leaving behind only the gently undulating expanse of the blue ocean. The Forsaken had returned fully to the physical world, leaving the spectral depths of the spirit realm behind.
Strangely, the mechanical ship had vanished entirely, leaving not even the faintest trace upon the clear horizon. Duncan frowned. Given their recent encounter, it should still be within visible range.
"Is this another peculiarity of this sea?" he murmured softly. "Or perhaps an aftereffect of passing through the spirit realm?"
Before he could dwell further, a sudden change in the sky captured his attention. High above, the dense, perpetual clouds that had never before parted now revealed a single golden thread of sunlight. Duncan stared in stunned silence as the clouds rapidly dissipated, like a heavy curtain being drawn back. The sun's golden rays illuminated the previously bleak ocean, bathing everything in warm, dazzling brightness.
Standing at the ship's prow, Duncan felt a profound stirring within him. Ever since first stepping onto this ship, clouds had perpetually obscured the sky, casting the world into eternal gloom. He'd almost forgotten what sunlight felt like. Even back in Zhou Ming's apartment, perpetual fog had blocked the sun completely.
But now, the Endless Sea was clear. Sunlight poured freely, inviting him to bask in warmth once again.
Overcome by emotion, Duncan instinctively raised his arms, as though welcoming an old friend. The sky responded in kind, clouds rapidly dissolving under his silent greeting—until suddenly, at the brightest moment, Duncan saw clearly what hung at the center of that brilliant radiance.
His joy froze instantly into horrified disbelief.
He stared wide-eyed at the celestial object suspended high above. Though blindingly bright, it was nothing like the sun he had known. Instead, he saw an enormous sphere, its surface intricately carved with endless twisting patterns, pouring streams of golden light. Surrounding this spherical monstrosity, two immense, ethereal rings slowly rotated in concentric orbits, each ring intricately etched with countless glowing symbols.
His heart sank further as realization took hold—the rings, marked by arcane runes, appeared not decorative but functional, forming an incomprehensible, eternal seal around the central sphere, binding this alien "sun" to its place in the heavens.
Duncan's arms fell slowly, his earlier optimism extinguished.
This was no true sun. This world had no sun at all.
"What… is that?" he asked softly, voice now heavy with dread.
"That is, of course, the sun, Captain," the goat head replied, unperturbed and entirely serious.
Duncan didn't respond immediately, continuing to stare skyward. Questions flooded his mind: Was it always this way? Did everyone else in this world see what he saw? Did they all accept this monstrous orb as the true sun?
Or was this distorted vision a unique curse, reserved only for him?
Duncan forced calm into his voice, aware the goat head listened closely. "Tell me… has it always looked like this?"
"Indeed," replied the goat head matter-of-factly. "The sun has always been imprisoned thus, guarded eternally by the seals set in place by long-forgotten powers. Mortals worship its restrained power, offering gratitude for its contained fury."
Duncan's heart grew heavier, colder. "And if those seals break?"
"Then this world and all worlds beneath it would burn to nothingness," the goat head explained, cheerfully oblivious to Duncan's internal dread. "But fear not, Captain. Those seals have endured countless epochs."
Duncan said nothing more, still staring upward as the goat head resumed its idle chatter, oblivious to his existential horror.
In his chest, Duncan felt something shift irrevocably. This revelation—of the false sun bound eternally above—shattered any lingering illusion he held about this place. The world was darker and more dangerous than he'd imagined, and he stood utterly alone upon this ghostly ship, adrift on an unnatural sea beneath an imprisoned sun.
Yet beneath fear lurked curiosity, an insatiable need for answers. He would unravel the secrets of this world, no matter how terrifying.
Lowering his gaze from the monstrous orb above, Duncan Abnomar—captain of the Forsaken—silently vowed to pierce every shadow, uncover every truth hidden within the endless darkness, until the false sun itself held no more terror for him.