Silas had burrowed deep into Lieutenant Philip's body and hypnotized him, erasing all memory of what had happened during that period.
As a result, Lieutenant Philip had no idea that he had already become Silas's living host. He continued behaving exactly as he normally would, giving no sign that anything was wrong.
He had taken the sailors into town and caused quite a commotion, but in the end, he hadn't dared disobey military orders. He returned to the warship Pas before curfew.
By order of the rear admiral, every member of the fleet was required to be back aboard their ship that night, without exception. Strict discipline was to be maintained as they awaited the next day's operation.
As Philip boarded the warship, Silas felt a flicker of tension. He was worried that the archbishop of the Church of the Eternal Blazing Sun might have left some sophisticated detection method aboard.
Fortunately, nothing happened. Even the thin membrane surrounding them dissolved as the ship entered the harbor.
That archbishop is awfully confident, isn't he? He thinks nothing can go wrong as long as it's within his control. Impressive.
Silas kept the thought to himself.
Sharing Lieutenant Philip's vision, he watched the completely oblivious officer board the ship, complain loudly about the miserable accommodations, trade idle chatter with the other officers, push the sailors around, and finally, after making a spectacle of himself, fall asleep.
The night passed without incident.
The next morning, the fleet came alive like a waking beast. Under the officers' direction, the soldiers guided the ships out of port one after another, moving into position and advancing across the water.
After some time, they finally completed their formation in the waters off Aroka Island.
The unusual modified steamship occupied the center, while the other vessels flanked and escorted it as the fleet moved forward.
Lieutenant Philip's ship, the Pas, was positioned on the left side of the formation. Despite being the boatswain, he showed little interest in doing his job. Instead, he stood on deck, looking around.
Through the dense fog, he could make out an old man in white robes standing at the bow of the central ship, with several people gathered respectfully behind him.
"So that's the famous Pierre..."
The words slipped out before he could stop himself.
"Keep your voice down!"
The second mate beside him hurriedly cut him off. "That's an archbishop of the Church, a major figure who's been alive since Roselle's time!"
"Ha!"
If the second mate had said nothing, Philip might have let the matter drop. Instead, the warning only made him more excited. His eyes lit up with the promise of gossip.
"Lieutenant Commander, you rose through the local army, so you probably don't know what Bishop Pierre is really like. Anyone from Trier's noble circles knows all about him..."
"Don't start spreading rumors..."
The second mate tried to stop him, but the curiosity in his eyes was obvious.
Seeing that, Philip became even more pleased with himself. He gestured animatedly as he spoke.
"He used to be a noble himself, but when Roselle became emperor, his family backed the wrong side and they were all arrested.
"By then, he'd already joined the Church, so they forced their way in and saved him. The rest of his family wasn't so lucky. They were all executed..."
Philip was far too young to have witnessed any of it himself. He had only heard the story passed around as gossip among the nobility.
"After that, he practically lost his mind. He shut himself away in the Church archives and refused to come out. Then, somehow, he became one of the people credited with bringing down Roselle and was promoted to archbishop almost overnight.
Even now, he spends every day ranting about how Roselle embodied every kind of sin. Everyone's tired of hearing it."
So this archbishop held a deep grudge against Roselle.
Silas listened from inside Philip's stomach, growing increasingly uneasy.
He was afraid Bishop Pierre might notice the loudmouthed idiot practically begging to get himself killed and turn his attention toward them.
Fortunately, Pierre either hadn't heard or simply didn't care. He remained at the bow, staring into the distance.
Four priests stood beside him. One of them unfolded a nautical chart marked with the Black King's route and presented it to him.
"I'd say it's somewhere around here."
Archbishop Pierre looked ahead, the dense fog reflected in his clear eyes. Then, something began to emerge from deep within the mist.
It was the shadow of a ship, dark and imposing against the fog. Its exact shape was impossible to distinguish, but its ancient design was unmistakable. It looked like a relic from an era long since lost.
"Tell them to attempt contact."
Standing behind the archbishop, Rear Admiral Francois issued the order to the liaison officer.
"Wooo!"
The command was carried out immediately.
At the front of the formation, several escort ships released great bursts of steam and accelerated, racing toward the dim outline of the sailing vessel.
Then something strange happened.
Although the ships were moving at full speed, they couldn't get any closer. The distance between them and the sailing ship remained exactly the same.
"Heh. So Roselle really did modify it."
The young general gave a humorless laugh, then called out, "Tell them to pull back."
As the liaison officer moved to relay the command, Francois raised his voice.
"Your Grace, it's time."
Pierre stared at the shadow hidden deep within the fog. A clear look of disgust flashed across his face. Then he slowly raised both hands.
"Praise the Sun," he said.
In the next instant, Silas saw a sun rise from the depths of the gray fog.
Sunlight.
Blazing sunlight.
Light burned across the sea with overwhelming intensity, cutting through the fog like a sword and stabbing into the eyes of everyone present.
It was clear and pure, filled with scorching heat and a sacred power that seemed capable of cleansing all corruption and sin. In an instant, it spread in every direction.
Then golden light consumed everything.
"Mm."
When the members of the fleet opened their eyes again, the world around them had completely changed.
The overwhelming light and heat had forced the fog away, leaving the view ahead entirely unobstructed. The vast ocean and open sky were now clearly visible.
At the very edge of their vision, dense gray fog towered on all sides like walls, enclosing the world around them.
Inside that enormous circular space, the fog had been completely cleared away.
Every part of the sea within it was visible.
The Intis warships sailed in orderly formation across the circular expanse, leaving white trails in their wakes.
And directly across from them, a strange three-masted sailing ship had appeared.
Its design was ancient and elegant, and it measured roughly eighty or ninety meters long. The entire hull was black.
Two of its three sails were black as well, while the sail in the center was pure white, creating a strange and unsettling contrast.
The Black King in its true form!
Even more disturbing were the countless silver chains wrapped around the outside of the ship.
They didn't appear to interfere with its movement, yet the sight of them was unsettling. Every chain led back to the helm, where an enormous black lock hung.
The moment the fog was forcibly driven away, the black three-masted ship reacted. Its hull began to turn transparent, as though it were attempting to enter the spirit realm and escape.
"Activate!"
At that moment, Francois shouted the command.
"Boom!"
The strange vessel beneath him opened fire.
A shell wrapped in golden light crossed the vast distance and struck the water near the Black King.
An invisible force immediately spread through the area. The surrounding spirit realm rapidly solidified, making it impossible to enter.