Secret World: I Became a God Through Lies

Chapter 74 The Secret Voyage of the Lost

"Sailing on the sea of ​​dreams is like walking into a nightmare from which you will never wake up."

"There is no direction, no boundaries, no end—only endless loss."

The Lost slowly traveled through the depths of the Sea of ​​Dreams. The sea fog around them grew thicker, as if swallowing them up in an endless illusory space.

The hull trembled slightly, as if it had crossed some invisible boundary, and at this moment, vague shadows began to emerge on the deck.

Their figures are like smoke and fog, appearing and disappearing, as if they are illusions created by the refraction of light and shadow.

Those black figures shuttled across the deck, silently wiping the deck, adjusting the sails, fixing the cables, and there were even a few shadows standing next to the cannons, checking the ammunition.

Their movements were orderly and precise, and they performed their duties like real sailors.

But the problem is - they don't really exist at all.

Siming's pupils shrank slightly, and a chill ran through his heart. He subconsciously reached out and tried to touch the shoulder of one of the shadow sailors.

The fingertips penetrated the air, and all they touched was a bone-chilling coldness.

Siming suddenly retracted his hand, his heart skipped a beat, and cold sweat trickled down his forehead. His breathing became slightly disordered for a moment.

Then he cursed in a low voice: "Damn... What the hell is this thing?"

Baroque slowly clenched the flying axe in his palm, staring at the ghostly images, his muscles slightly tense, as if ready to fight at any time.

He instinctively felt danger, but what was even more terrifying was that these shadows did not look like enemies at all. They did not even react to their presence, as if they were trapped outside of time.

Ian stood on the observation deck, his eyes fixed, his heart beating fast. He could clearly see,

On the other side of the observation tower, a blurry ghost navigator appeared, staring silently into the distance in the thick fog.

"Ghost Crew."

Calvino's voice echoed on the silent deck, so calmly that it seemed as if he had long been accustomed to it.

Everyone looked at him, waiting for his explanation.

"They are the real owners of this ship." Calvino's eyes swept across the shadows, his expression unchanged.
"And we...are just temporary living beings."

A trace of cold sweat broke out on Rex's forehead, and his voice trembled a little: "Are they... former sailors?"

"Maybe." Calvino's tone remained calm, as if he was watching a scene that had been played out countless times.

The ghost crew members continued to perform their respective tasks silently. They did not speak, had no expression, and no emotional fluctuations.

There was not a single unnecessary sound on the deck except for the whistling of the sea breeze, the shaking of the mast, and the imperceptible sound of the shadows moving.

Siming slowly exhaled and forced himself to calm down.

There are definitely more than just ghost crew members on this ship.

Although they cannot touch or communicate, the ghost crew still operates the Lost like ordinary crew members.

It was as if they were part of the ship, or as if the ship had already become a part of them.

The rules are clear, yet incredibly strange.

They cannot speak and will not respond to any human communication.

They only mechanically complete the ship's work to ensure that the Lost is always sailing, and once the ship stops, they will disappear as if they had never existed.

What's even more disturbing is that they seem to know all the secrets of the Sea of ​​Dreams, but never reveal a single word.

Siming pursed his lips and slowly looked around. He could sense that this ship still held many more secrets, and what he saw was only the tip of the iceberg.

The Lost was sailing quietly in the foggy sea. The invitation letter from the Whale Grave was emitting a faint black-gold light, as if guiding their course.

Lilia stood at the bow, her palm gently covering the parchment, closing her eyes, as if listening to a sound that only she could hear.

The whale-shaped mark on the paper floated slightly, as if breathing, and then a deep whale cry echoed from all directions.

The voice was deep and distant, with a resonance that did not belong to reality, as if it came from the deepest part of the sea of ​​dreams.

It penetrated the deck and seeped into the bone marrow, causing everyone who heard it to tremble in their hearts, as if their souls were being pulled by this sound.

Siming frowned, and there seemed to be some kind of whispering in his ears. He rubbed his temples hard.

He said impatiently: "What the hell is this?"

Ian peered through the telescope, but no matter which direction he looked, there was still an endless sea of ​​fog. He put down the telescope and asked with a hint of uncertainty: "Are we really heading in the right direction?"

Rex held the sail rope tightly with one hand, his eyes fixed on Lilia, and said in a low voice: "Are you sure it won't lead us into a dead end?"

Lilia didn't answer, but slowly raised her hand and pointed in a certain direction.

The sea breeze seemed to have subtly shifted in accordance with her movements, and the originally chaotic wind direction actually stabilized quietly.

The whale's cry sounded again, clearer than before, with an unmistakable guiding meaning.

"The wind has changed," she whispered.

Calvino reacted almost immediately, turning the rudder with both hands and adjusting the course of the Lost accordingly.

Ian quickly maneuvered the sails, adjusting the angle of the sail blades according to the new wind direction to ensure that he made the most of the wind.

Rex stood on the observation deck, his eyes fixed on the thick fog around him, ready to be alert to any possible strange phenomena.

At the same moment they adjusted their direction, the ghostly crew members on the deck simultaneously stopped moving. The silent shadows raised their heads slightly, as if they were also listening to the whale's call.

They seemed to know—they were on the right track.

However, the Sea of ​​Dreams would not let them pass easily.

As the Lost One went deeper, the lights and shadows floating in the thick fog gradually became clearer, sometimes appearing to be a mysterious island floating in the distance,
Sometimes it is a ghost battleship sinking in the darkness,

Sometimes, a group of figures immersed in the sea fog would make ethereal and strange chants, inducing them to deviate.

Sometimes, they heard whale calls, but the sound was indescribably cold, like a nightmare whispering in their ears, which was creepy.

Sometimes, they heard the singing of mermaids, which was ethereal and melodious, and seemed to have the magic to touch the soul, making people want to follow them.

But Calvino's hand remained firmly on the rudder, unmoved.

Sometimes, they even saw the outline of an island emerging in the distance, with lights swaying on the shore, as if it were a port where they could dock and resupply.

However, when they tried to get closer, the island quickly collapsed like an illusion, turning into countless bubbles that drifted away with the wind.

Siming's brows furrowed tighter and tighter, and he whispered to himself, "This sea area... is alive."

The Sea of ​​Dreams was testing them, creating one false route after another, trying to interfere with their direction of progress.

However, Calvino and Lilia remained indifferent to these visions. They knew that any deviation from their course might cause them to be lost in this sea forever.

After adjusting the course, Calvino finally looked away and smiled meaningfully: "Now, we can relax."

Siming looked at him suspiciously: "Relax? Are you sure?"

Calvino shrugged and said in a relaxed tone: "Of course, the next voyage will be very long, and we can't always be on edge."

He paused, raised his eyebrows towards the cabin, and said in a playful tone, "Go and take a look, Siming."

"Our 'chef' should have prepared a sumptuous lunch for everyone."

Siming was slightly stunned, then his eyes widened: "...Wait a minute, do we have a chef?"

He subconsciously turned his head to look at the silent shadows on the deck, and a very bad premonition arose in his heart.

"You mean, there are really people cooking on the boat?" He stared at Calvino's expression, trying to figure out if he was joking.

Calvino just smiled, but his eyes were unreadable: "Go and see for yourself."

Siming's gaze slowly turned to the entrance of the cabin, and he felt a little uneasy in his heart.

He instinctively sensed something was wrong, but now it was too late to back down.

Through the crack in the cabin door, one could vaguely see shadows moving in and out, as if someone was busy in the kitchen, and the air was filled with a faint aroma of food.

But the problem is-

Is there really a "living" chef on this ship?

The roar of whales still echoes in the air, thick fog rolls in the distance, and shadows toil silently.

The Lost is slowly sailing deeper into the nightmare.

(End of this chapter)