北京青年手机

“How is there a signal out here? Who could be sending it? Is this a real signal or just another deceitful trap set by the thick fog to ensnare us?” Lucretia questioned the air.

“Prepare defenses!” Lucretia commanded without a second thought. She darted to the control panel and swiftly pulled a lever among the assortment of devices. Luni, positioned close by, reacted with equal urgency. Her clockwork doll pressed several buttons on the console and then pulled back, winding the spring on her back in reverse three full turns.

Soft clicking noises filled the air as tiny cracks formed on Luni’s arms, legs, and neck. Runes began to illuminate beneath her synthetic skin, and her eyes emitted a soft red glow. Simultaneously, mechanical sounds resonated around them as grids and conduits, previously hidden, slid out from the floor and walls, releasing the scent of incense and a deep, resonant hum.

Shirley watched in awe and eventually exclaimed, “Wow… you even have this incredible contraption?!”

Nina, equally astonished, stared at the now defensively positioned clockwork doll. “How did you transform like that?”

Under Nina’s intense scrutiny, Luni trembled slightly, the sound of clashing internal components evident. “I must emphasize, my mistress has forbidden any disassembly by strangers,” she stated as she eyed the girl warily.

“Exploring the frontier regularly requires us to be perpetually prepared for the unexpected,” Lucretia noted, her gaze shifting towards the demon girl and the mini sun fragment. She sighed softly, “Stay alert; I’m about to connect to this signal. The entity trying to communicate might not be human, or even capable of normal speech… But that probably doesn’t scare either of you.”

As she finished, Lucretia took a deep breath and laid her hand on the communicator—click.

A voice, burdened with heavy static and distortion as if filtered through multiple layers of interference, emanated from the speaker: “…Calling…zzzz…this is…zzzz…the lighthouse, calling…the Vanished, awaiting your…zzzz…return. Repeat, this is…zzzz…”

The monotone, raspy message echoed like a ghost caught between moments in time.

Everyone on the bridge, including Lucretia, momentarily froze in shock.

“Lighthouse?” Shirley whispered to herself after a pause, her memory suddenly stirring, “Wait, I remember now! When we left, the last stop…”

Lucretia’s thoughts wandered back to the last mobile harbor on the frontier before their fleet crossed the veil, remembering the female pope’s farewell: “Three warships will stay near the lighthouse, awaiting your return… This harbor will remain here, and my avatar will stay until you return…”

“…The lighthouse is still operational, they’re actually still waiting there?!” Shirley’s eyes widened in realization. She might not have been the most studious, but her memory was sharp. “It seems like the whole world is almost frozen in time!”

Lucretia remained silent, pondering their departure. She maintained her usual composure, unaffected by the excitement of the moment. She first confirmed that the signal was real and not a mirage created by the crew’s collective psyche reflecting off the frontier waters. She then checked the Bright Star’s defenses before lifting the radio handset: “This is the Bright Star. We have received your message. We are attempting to navigate back from the critical line. Our ship’s navigation is down. Please boost the power of the lighthouse’s antenna.”

She replaced the handset and waited.

However, only static responded from the communicator, followed by a few seconds of the same repetitive message, then silence took over, leaving only the buzz of interference.

“Can’t they hear us?” Nina asked, eyes wide with curiosity, “Is there interference?”

“I’m not sure, but it’s clear that the signal definitely originated from ‘the lighthouse,\'” Lucretia replied, her brow furrowed. She turned to Luni, “Can you determine the signal’s direction?”

“Not precisely, but I can estimate a general direction,” Luni responded promptly, adjusting the nearby equipment, “Should we head that way?”

Lucretia exchanged a glance with Morris.

After a silent agreement, they decided to follow this signal as their “guiding anchor” back home—a metaphorical piece of driftwood from beyond the boundary.

“We’ll at least make it back to around the year 1902,” Lucretia murmured to herself.

The Bright Star cautiously adjusted its trajectory, patrolling along the six-mile critical boundary as long as possible, and increased the sensitivity of its antenna to pinpoint the signal’s direction. They eventually identified the most probable “gap” in the boundary line.

The ship’s horn blared with determined resolve as the Bright Star, shrouded in the ghostly image of the Mirror Vanished, plunged into the mist toward home.

As they crossed the critical line, the crew felt almost nothing, but Lucretia, seasoned in navigating the frontier seas, subtly sensed an indescribable “change.”

Her expression tense and her senses sharpened, Lucretia was acutely aware of every sound emanating from the communicator—

Had they made it back? Were they now around the year 1902?

As if fate had finally ceased its mischievous antics upon their return, Luni joyfully reported just as they crossed the threshold: “Mistress, the signal has significantly strengthened—we’ve successfully re-entered the veil, and we’ve also received a precise time signal, confirming our timing is accurate!”

Lucretia let out a deep sigh of relief. The last time she had felt such profound relief and happiness was when she received her brother’s message confirming that their “father has indeed regained his humanity.”

The bridge erupted in cheers from Shirley and Nina, accompanied by the relieved sighs of Rabbi in the corner and the quiet jubilation of the little doll, Nilu.

“Continue closing in on the signal,” Lucretia commanded, picking up the radio handset again to contact the lighthouse, “This is the Bright Star, we have successfully crossed the critical line, advancing toward the lighthouse, is your situation secure?”

However, after calling twice, only static noise filled the air. Although the signal was now strong enough not to disrupt communications, the lighthouse still gave no response.

It almost seemed as though the earlier call beckoning them home had been nothing but an illusion.

Lucretia’s face grew more serious, and the bridge’s atmosphere, which had briefly lightened, turned tense once again.

She set down the handset, shaking her head, “Something seems off about the lighthouse, we’ll head there first and investigate.”

As they approached, the lighthouse emerged from the depths of the frontier fog near the six-mile critical line, its ability to transmit signals through the veil somewhat diminished but still active.

It was still illuminated, the beacon less bright than at their departure but still cutting through the dense fog.

The sight of the light allowed a slight easing of tension. There was an active signal, and the light was still operational, suggesting the recent lighthouse maintenance.

But why was there such silence?

After a prolonged journey, the Bright Star finally drew near to the lighthouse.

At first sight, Lucretia observed the three massive Storm Church warships still moored quietly under the lighthouse at the mobile platform’s harbor. Their lights were still lit and clearly operational, yet they offered no response to the Bright Star’s arrival.

It appeared as though the ships were being maintained, but no one was acknowledging their return.

“I think I saw someone moving in the upper sections of the lighthouse,” Shirley commented, peering intently from the deck, her voice barely above a whisper, “There are definitely people up there, but it seems like they’re ignoring us… Can’t they see us?”

“Could all this actually be just an illusion…” Nina voiced her concerns softly.

“…What if we’re the illusion?” Shirley added, her suggestion carrying an even more eerie undertone.

Lucretia, however, paid little heed to the girls’ speculative whispering. She too had noticed signs of activity within the lighthouse. After a moment of contemplation, she decisively laid out her plan:

“I’ll go up with Vanna to investigate. Everyone else, stay on the ship. Do not disembark until we return, and be wary of any voices or figures that might appear on the communicator. Luni, keep watch over the ship.”

Luni promptly nodded in acknowledgment: “Yes, Mistress.”

With their plans quickly set, Lucretia and Vanna embarked on a paper boat, making a discreet landing at the eerily quiet lighthouse.

The surrounding area was steeped in silence, the cold wind sweeping through the harbor brought a piercing chill that seemed to freeze the soul and stiffen the blood.

Stepping onto the pier’s walkway, Lucretia and Vanna surveyed their surroundings in the enveloping night mist. Shadows and figures moved within the mist, yet strangely, none seemed to acknowledge their presence.