初次尝了销魂少妇

Because, after all, an explosion reaching a staggering temperature of 6000 degrees Celsius could cause cataclysmic destruction, regardless of where it took place.

Fortunately for Nina, Duncan had always been aware of this situation. He consistently took upon himself the responsibility to guide and instruct her, ensuring she was regularly reminded of the potential risks of her powers. He lent his hand in helping the young girl grasp the true gravity of her abilities, and he discovered methods to assist her in slowly but steadily learning to control her solar might. Thanks to Duncan’s efforts, Nina was gradually coming to terms with her reality and accepting it.

In her eyes, the world as it currently existed resembled a delicately crafted yet exceedingly fragile house made of paper. The slightest error or mishap could lead it to erupt into a deadly blaze, like careless breathing or gazing at a spot for too long, effectively charring the area into a wasteland.

Now, it seemed that Nina’s comprehension and mastery over her powers had seen significant improvement.

Apart from the rare and minor instances of “losing control”, she hadn’t incinerated anything else. She consistently preserved the outlook and understanding of an ordinary human, ensuring she didn’t succumb to arrogance or dangerous overconfidence owing to the knowledge of her formidable strength.

In Duncan’s view, this was a positive development.

The pitch-black surface of the ocean subtly rippled within their sight. The tumultuous sky and the sea seemed to merge into one without any discernable boundary. The eerie fire encircling their vessel, the Vanished, lit up the nearby water surface. At the intersection of light and darkness, occasional sightings of peculiar and unnerving shadows could be made.

These fleeting apparitions darted through the air or water. They were the indigenous inhabitants of the spirit realm. These chaotic and simple-minded creatures were drawn towards the intruder, the Vanished. But as soon as they assembled, they’d be scorched by the spectral flames and subsequently dispersed, retreating in fright.

Drawn by the novelty of the scene, Nina dashed to the rear deck’s edge. She perched herself right on the deck, dangling her legs over the railing, her eyes wide with intrigue as she examined the “sea” that was both alien and fascinating to her.

Duncan warned Nina about not losing her balance and falling overboard before he redirected his attention to mastering the ship’s navigation. After a short period, a sudden inquiry popped into his mind.

“Vanna,” he pivoted to address the inquisitor woman standing on the deck’s edge, surveying the sea.

“I have a question that suddenly sprang up regarding the Storm Goddess.”

Vanna quickly spun around, a serious expression replacing her earlier face: “Feel free to ask.”

“The Storm Goddess Gomona is considered the protector of the sea, isn’t she?” Duncan queried.

Duncan pursued his line of questioning, “The entirety of the Boundless Sea falls under the jurisdiction of the Storm Goddess’s protection. So, what about the sea that exists within the spirit realm?”

The solemn expression on Vanna’s face quickly morphed into one of surprise, swiftly succeeded by a mixture of embarrassment and contemplation that persisted for around ten seconds. After this brief interlude, she reluctantly shook her head, apologizing, “I’m sorry, I must confess that I’ve never given this matter any thought before.” She then lapsed back into a thoughtful silence.

She reflected on her understanding, “It appears that my comprehension of the tenets of faith is rather superficial. I spend hours in prayer every day, yet, I’ve never deeply considered the intricate nuances underlying these scriptures…”

Morris, who was observing this exchange from the side, interjected, “It’s perfectly normal for these granular details not to be spelled out in the scriptures. Since the founding of the Storm Church, no mortal has freely ventured deep into the spiritual realm.” He added, “Doctrine serves as an instrument to elucidate the divine truths to mortals. It only embodies the parts of the truth that we’re aware of, not the complete picture…”

“Then where did the initial ‘doctrine’ originate from?” Duncan probed further, “In the era when the city-state was newly established, and the faith in the Four Gods was just taking root, who penned the initial doctrine to clarify the mechanisms that govern the world’s functioning? Was it the original mortals who evangelized or the four gods themselves?”

This question prompted Morris to sink into contemplation.

Duncan followed up on his previous question, “Based on the current interpretation of the scriptures by the Four Churches, the doctrine could only have originated from the gods, correct?”

“Yes.” Morris nodded in agreement. He seemed to have swiftly arranged his thoughts before responding to Duncan’s question, “‘Doctrine’ is a fraction of the truth, it mirrors its divine origin. According to the generally accepted belief, the inaugural prophets of Crete were granted divine enlightenment. The gods’ wisdom infused their minds, and they instinctively penned down the initial tenets in their enlightened state. This was followed by the ‘Age of Truth Manifestation’ and the ‘Age of Revelation’ spanning several centuries. In these eras, prophets received enlightenment in successive generations, documenting this knowledge that eventually culminated in the present doctrine and scriptures of the Four Gods…”

Duncan stayed silent for a substantial period, lost in deep thought. After what seemed like an eternity, he posed another question, disrupting the silence that had settled over them, “Are there still prophets today who receive such enlightenment and are capable of drafting new doctrines and truths?”

Upon hearing this, Morris and Vanna exchanged glances before the former responded, “To the best of my knowledge, there aren’t any.” Morris shook his head, “Saints can perceive the gods’ voices, but it’s usually just indistinct suggestions or prompts, and ‘prophets’ who can engage in direct dialogues with the gods like those recorded in history haven’t emerged since the end of the Dark Age. However, those heretics who pledge allegiance to the Dark Sun or the Nether Lord often profess that prophets have risen among them. But as you’re well aware, the ‘prophets’ they refer to are frequently nothing more than deranged individuals plagued by mental corruption…”

“So, it implies that from the time of the Crete Kingdom through to the Dark Ages, the gods had frequent interactions with the mortal realm,” Duncan said contemplatively. “They could even engage in a certain degree of dialogue with deserving mortals over time. But starting from the city-state era, their interaction with the mortal realm was reduced to merely vague ‘suggestions’.”

As Duncan spoke these seemingly profound words, a perplexed expression etched itself onto Vanna’s face. Compelled by curiosity, she had to ask, “I… I’ve never approached this matter from such a perspective before. What prompted these sudden inquiries?”

“Why suddenly ask these questions…” Duncan trailed off into a moment of silence. During this brief respite, his mind involuntarily revisited the image he had recently encountered in Tyrian’s office – the moon.

From what he understood, the world where the moon existed lacked the Four Gods. There was no expansive sea under the protection of the Storm Goddess, the World’s Creation did not hang suspended in the sky, and the deep sea was devoid of concealed stars and demons.

The image of the moon had been etched in his mind since he first laid eyes on it. His tranquility was shattered, and a plethora of speculations about this world began to consume his thoughts.

“I’ve suddenly developed a keen interest in the oldest mysteries of this world.” He voiced his thoughts slowly. He then drew a deep breath, nodded at Vanna and Morris, and gave his assent, “I’ve reviewed the ‘warning’ message you’ve prepared to relay to the Storm Church and the Academy of Truth. There are no issues, you can proceed with establishing contact with your respective headquarters at sea.”

Even though Morris and Vanna harbored lingering doubts and were mildly concerned about the captain’s recent somber disposition, they chose not to press him further. They simultaneously bowed their heads in acknowledgment, responding in unison, “Yes, captain.”

….

Lucretia slowly stirred from a restless slumber fraught with a series of chaotic, peculiar, exhilarating, and outlandish nightmares.

She turned to gaze out the window. The heavy curtains effectively barred any external light, except for a sliver of golden afterglow that managed to filter through the narrow gap in the curtains, casting long shadows in the room. The familiar daily objects relegated to the dim corners seemed to exude an additional uncanny vibe as if the residual power from her nightmares had seeped into the real world and was now lurking in the shadows.

“Mistress?” A freakish and unnerving bunny doll stirred to life at her side, cocking its head, its button eyes trained on Lucretia. The voice of a little girl emanated from its cotton-stuffed body.

With a casual movement, Lucretia pulled the bunny doll into her embrace, squeezed it tightly, then lifted her gaze to the window, “What time is it now?”

“There’s still an hour before you usually wake up,” the bunny doll responded, its button eyes scrutinizing Lucretia’s pallid complexion as it endured her aggressive snuggles. “You seem rather unwell, and you were tossing and turning in your sleep… Did you have another disturbing dream?”

“I dreamt of some strange things…” Lucretia responded, rubbing her temples and releasing the bunny doll from her tight grip. “Fetch me a drink.”

“Understood,” the doll complied obediently. It hopped off the bed, retrieved a cup from a nearby cabinet, filled it halfway with her preferred drink, and asked with evident curiosity, “What did you dream about? Is your anxiety stemming from… the impending visit of the old master?”

The doll’s innocent voice harbored a hint of trepidation. It was clear that the mere mention of the phrase “old master” instilled a profound sense of dread in it.

Lucretia accepted the offered cup from the doll, emptied it in a single gulp, and let out a prolonged sigh. “I dreamt about the time when the Bright Star was on the brink of falling due to its close brush with the border fog. However, in my dream, our ship didn’t fall from the fog; instead, it soared upwards, crashing directly into the World’s Creation. Also, I saw countless ships contorted into all sorts of shapes, cascading from the world towards the sky… It was all so ludicrous and uncanny.”

As she narrated her dream, she tossed the empty cup to the bunny doll next to her, “Yes, his imminent arrival does induce a certain level of anxiety, but not enough to instigate nightmares, Rabbi, he is my father after all.”

“Yes, Mistress,” the bunny doll promptly nodded in acknowledgment but couldn’t resist cautioning her, “But do be wary. Experiencing nightmares aboard the ship could be a bad omen. The old master… he does have ties to subspace, and he is currently drawing closer to you.”

“I understand,” Lucretia responded nonchalantly. She then rose from the bed, moved barefoot across the room to the window, and threw open the heavy curtains. The warm and radiant “sunlight” instantly flooded the entire room.

The sun had not yet fully risen, but the colossal glowing geometric structure hovering just above the water’s surface had already been casting “eternal daylight” over the vast expanse of the sea for a substantial duration.

Lucretia narrowed her eyes as she basked in the seemingly infinite ‘sunlight’.

The voice of the bunny doll echoed from behind her, “Mistress, are you planning to visit the stone sphere today?”

“No,” Lucretia responded, shaking her head. She turned and sauntered towards her vanity table. Today, she intended to venture into town to reunite with her old acquaintances from the Explorer’s Association.