Chapter 791: Sailors Farewell

Chapter 791: Sailors Farewell

A fog hung over the ocean like a delicate veil, shrouding the mysterious islands that lay beyond the ship’s railing. The sea remained tranquil, in stark contrast to the enigmatic ancient temple that had once stood imposingly in the distance, now entirely obscured by the fog, as though it had never been there, to begin with.

On the ship’s stern deck, Sailor found himself seated atop a wooden barrel, his eyes fixated on the haunting mist at the horizon. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he seemed to be in a trance.

The quiet was suddenly broken by the sound of footsteps approaching, pulling Sailor out of his deep contemplation. He turned, his body stiff as if he were more of a statue than a living person, to see who was coming, lifting his eyes to meet theirs.

“Miss Vanna, good afternoon,” he greeted her, a hint of sadness in his voice, “Ah, you’re really tall.”

“That’s something I often hear,” Vanna responded casually, taking a seat on a barrel next to him. She looked out at the captivating fog that had so thoroughly entranced Sailor, “Agatha mentioned you’ve been here all day. What’s been on your mind?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” Sailor admitted, sounding a bit puzzled as he shook his head. “Just lost in thought, I suppose. In this state, there’s not much else I can do. No need for food, drink, or sleep – and there’s hardly any manual labor required on this ship. It seems to run itself quite efficiently. The most we ever seem to do is clean up after Miss Alice’s chaos...”

Vanna listened quietly, allowing Sailor to speak his mind. Though he seldom spoke since they arrived on the Vanished, when he did share his thoughts, they flowed freely, making one wonder if he had always been this way, even in life.

As Sailor eventually trailed off, Vanna offered a kind smile and shook her head gently, “You shouldn’t talk like that in front of Alice. It would break her heart.”

“Ah, I know. I wouldn’t dream of it,” Sailor quickly reassured her, his expression becoming a complex mix of emotions, “Besides... I probably won’t get the chance to say it, anyway.”

Vanna looked at him with curiosity but chose to remain silent.

Sailor’s gaze returned to the fog, towards where the temple once stood.

“...You hear it too, don’t you? The gentle sound of the waves,” he suddenly said.

Vanna appeared slightly surprised, but before she could respond, Sailor continued, seemingly indifferent to her reaction, “Since we set sail, I’ve occasionally heard it – the whispers among the waves, speaking in languages I don’t understand. They seem to communicate with me, just as I am now sharing my thoughts with you... Is it wrong, do you think, to speak this way?”

“That’s a blessing from the Goddess,” Vanna answered, pausing for a moment as if choosing her words carefully. “She’s aware of your presence. Her voice naturally reaches those who have faith in Her.”

“But I’ve lost my memory of Her,” Sailor said quietly, a note of sorrow in his voice. “I remember arriving here, something important happening, but the days I spent as a priest in the Storm Church, offering prayers, seem to belong to someone else. It appears I can no longer be considered a follower. It’s been two centuries since I last prayed to Her.”

“The Goddess might not be in your current memories, but you are certainly in Hers,” Vanna replied with a firm belief, her faith unwavering. “The Goddess remembers each of Her children, even those lost for centuries like you. As the ‘Storm Codex’ teaches us, prayer is just one form of connection; our true bond with the Goddess goes beyond rituals.”

Sailor looked at her with renewed respect, “Your faith is strong.”

Vanna’s expression softened, showing a hint of curiosity, “Do I not seem like a devout believer usually?”

With that, Sailor’s voice remained steady, his earlier hesitation and remorse dissipating like fog in the sun.

He then bowed deeply to Duncan, showing the utmost respect and gratitude, and upon straightening up, he turned to Vanna, drawing the symbol of the waves across his chest with his right hand.

Vanna, visibly moved, stepped forward as though she wanted to reach out, but instead, she simply reflected the symbol back to him, a silent exchange of understanding and respect.

“Are you sure you want to leave?” Duncan asked, locking eyes with Sailor.

“You’ve come back, so it’s time for me to move on,” Sailor replied with a serene smile, taking a few steps back. “I’ll find a peaceful place to rest. It’s been a long time since I’ve truly rested.”

Duncan nodded, his silence a solemn acceptance of Sailor’s decision.

Sailor walked across the deck, disappearing into the thick fog that had quietly enveloped the ship. His form faded into the mist, eventually vanishing from sight entirely, leaving Duncan and Vanna in a poignant silence.

After a moment, Vanna, unable to stand the silence any longer, turned to Duncan, her voice carrying a mix of emotions, “Captain...”

Duncan raised his hand to pause further conversation, then posed a thought-provoking question, “Vanna, do you know how many times a person can truly face death?”

This question caught Vanna off-guard, hinting at a deeper meaning. She remained silent, her gaze lingering on the place where Sailor had disappeared, perhaps hoping for one last glimpse of him. Eventually, she turned her attention back to Duncan, ready to move the conversation forward, “Captain, what are our next steps?”

Acknowledging her readiness, Duncan walked towards the ship’s helm at the stern, signaling a readiness to continue their journey without looking back. “We have much more to explore. The Vanished will chart a new course – Alice is ready, and now, we’ll test her ‘navigation’ skills for the first time.”

Vanna, understanding the shift in focus, followed Duncan promptly.

At the helm, Alice stood beside the wheel, visibly anxious as she awaited further instructions from Duncan. The mop, bucket, ropes, spare iron hooks, and other deck items seemed to anticipate the significance of the moment, congregating around the helm as if drawn by an unseen force, ready to witness the unfolding events.

A rope gently nudged Alice’s leg, offering reassurance or perhaps seeking comfort for itself.

Admitting her apprehension, Alice whispered, “I’m a bit nervous...” Despite Duncan’s reassurances, her voice betrayed her anxiety, “Even though the captain said it’s okay, I can’t help but worry...”

The ropes, bucket, and other items nearby responded with a cacophony of clattering and rustling, their movements creating a symphony of sounds that, to Alice, felt like the voices of her ‘friends’, each expressing their own nervousness.

It was clear that Alice wasn’t alone in her feelings; the entire ship seemed to be holding its breath, bracing for what was to come.