A shadow shrouded in darkness, a warship that seemed to be made up of smoke, fog and various wreckages, was traveling with the White Oak and charging towards the Petrel which was approaching from the distance. The outline of the ship shrouded in thick fog could vaguely show its similarities with the White Oak in that it was of the same origin.

It was not the same as what he remembered, but Lawrence still recognized it at the first sight - even though it now looked broken, twisted, and weird, it still touched his memory as if he had seen it in his dreams every time.

It was the Black Oak, and there it was, just as it had been when she last sailed together in memory, accompanying the White Oak.

A loud whistle suddenly sounded, interrupting the old captain's astonishment and wild thoughts. The whistle came from the phantom ship, as if to remind Lawrence that this was not the time to be in a daze.

Whistling shells fell from the sky, and the bombardment from the Petrel never stopped. Lawrence turned around suddenly and saw a fireball hitting the bow of the White Oak.

The flames rose into the air there, and were assimilated and absorbed by the blazing green flames on the ship in an instant. Part of the bow was torn into pieces, and the hot metal shattered in all directions - but the next second, the broken structures began to recover as if time was turning back, and returned to their original state amid the rising green flames.

Lawrence felt something was "losing", as if physical strength and life were being reduced from his "perception", but the lost part was quickly replenished from the blazing spiritual flames on all sides, and then, the self-defense guns on the bow and sides of the White Oak roared, and one shell after another was like an angry ghost, emitting a chilling scream as it rushed out of the barrel, and streaks of dark green light in the air.

Almost at the same moment, the "Black Oak" next to it also began to attack - accompanied by the roar of artillery, flashes of light burst out one after another in the rising black fog, and one after another illusory shells rushed out of the fog and fell in the direction of the distant enemy ships.

Lawrence gripped the steering wheel tightly with both hands, feeling the powerful vibrations coming from the roar of artillery fire on the ship beneath his feet. He felt that his perception was spreading further, even along the flying shells and the surging sea water around him, spreading to the entire sea area. At the edge of his perception, the "Haiyan" was like a bonfire in the night, emitting a strong and somewhat dazzling... sense of presence.

Not long ago, it was a hopeless opponent for the White Oak, but at this moment Lawrence only felt that the prey was so delicious... and tasty.

A moment later, the return fire from the White Oak finally landed on the Haiyan for the first time. Accompanied by a huge explosion and flames, the strange warship was "gouged" out of thin air as if it was bitten fiercely by an invisible giant mouth. In the huge scar that was devoured, the strange and twisted structure inside the ship was clearly visible.

The attack was effective, but it was not enough.

"Full speed," Lawrence gripped the steering wheel tightly, his eyes fixed on the enemy ship that was still approaching. He already knew what he should do - or rather, what the White Oak needed at the moment, "We need replenishment."

First Mate Gus' voice rang out on the bridge: "Yes, full speed!"

The steam core roared even more, and the already high-speed White Oak increased its speed to the limit, and began to swoop down on the distant Petrel like a swift falcon - the Black Oak was still sailing beside it like a reflection, always maintaining the same speed and the same course.

The Haiyan in the distance showed no signs of changing its course or slowing down to avoid the enemy. The ship that launched a blind attack as soon as it appeared was like an irrational, out-of-control beast. Even after the White Oak underwent tremendous changes and its own battle situation turned unfavorable, it always faithfully carried out its original goal: to attack the enemy.

Two ships, one wrapped in dark green flames, the other covered with twisted dark strange structures, simultaneously launched a full-speed charge towards each other - the shrill and terrifying whistle sounds almost tore the sky apart, the increasingly intensive roar of artillery fire from the two ships shook the entire ocean, the distance between them was getting closer and closer, and the shells fired at each other almost all fell on the hull of the other side. The huge explosion tore the hull apart, and the hot and burning debris splashed into the sea and the sky!

On the bridge of the White Oak, Lawrence just stared straight ahead, and everyone was staring in the same direction as him. The minds of all the sailors seemed to be tightly grasped by something, and every living being on the ship suddenly lost their fear and hesitation. All that was left was a fanatical anticipation for the impending and destined collision - and then, the two ships finally touched each other.

Just like a loose snowball being pressed hard against the outer wall of a blazing furnace, the bow of the Sea Petrel sank straight into the blazing spiritual flames surrounding the White Oak. Along with a piercing noise and a loud noise like millions of people shouting in unison, the seemingly solid steel hull melted away inch by inch in the green flames. As the "collision" continued, the Sea Petrel began to disappear from beginning to end into the depths of the wall of fire. This scene looked... as if it had been swallowed up entirely.

Until the last turret at the stern of the Petrel was completely devoured by the spiritual flames, the fierce bombardment between the two ships never stopped.

Then, it was finally over.

The self-defense artillery on various parts of the White Oak finally stopped roaring. After the enemy disappeared, the roar of the steam core gradually became lower, and the rising spiritual flames in various parts of the ship slowly retracted. From the offensive posture at the beginning, it became gentle and began to burn quietly along the hull.

Lawrence was a little confused for a moment, and his hands had left the steering wheel without him knowing. He raised his head and looked around at the scene on the bridge.

The sailors turned their heads and looked at him one by one. Each of them looked like a ghost as they were possessed by a spirit. Their empty eyes seemed to be devoid of human reason and humanity.

Lawrence blinked, but just before the confusion in his mind was about to consume him completely, a figure suddenly appeared in the corner of his eye.

It was a young man who appeared out of thin air and stepped over the spiritual flames that kept rising around him. He was wearing the dark blue robe of a Deep Sea Church priest, and the holy emblem on his chest was emitting blazing flames. He strode over, grabbed the burning holy emblem on his chest with one hand, and suddenly pressed it hard against Lawrence's chest.

A burning sensation spread from his chest, and Lawrence felt his shaky mind suddenly stabilized, and humanity and reason returned to his soul at the same time.

As the captain woke up, the sailors on the ship also woke up one by one. They looked at each other, as if only then they remembered the end of the battle, the final fight and "collision" between the White Oak and the Petrel. Some cried out in fear, some subconsciously checked their bodies, and some raised their heads and set their eyes on the young priest who suddenly appeared on the bridge.

Lawrence frowned and looked at the young man in front of him for a long time before he finally spoke hesitantly: "Pastor... Johnson?"

"It's me. Thank God, you can finally see me," the young chaplain gasped. He seemed to have just climbed out of the sea. His robes were soaked. When he spoke, streams of water flowed down his hair and neck. "Thank the Lord of Storms for your protection. I have been shouting beside you for several days."

Lawrence still felt as if his mind was a little unclear. It took him several seconds to gradually recall another inconsistency in the past few days -

There should be a chaplain on board the ship, just as there should be a sun in the sky. However, in the past period of time, he has never seen the figure of this young chaplain.

Pastor Johnson disappeared from everyone's sight and even from everyone's memory - so much so that people even forgot the common sense that "there should be a chaplain on board the ship."

Lawrence noticed the strange phenomenon of the disappearance of the sun, but only now realized that Pastor Johnson was also missing.

"……what happened?"

The old captain, as if waking from a dream, slowly turned his head and asked in a low voice.

"I don't know. In the past few days, I seem to have been separated from you into two dimensions," the wet young priest smiled bitterly and shook his head. "I can see you, but none of you can see me. It's as if I became an 'outsider' on the ship. Until just now... the whole ship 'changed' in the flames, and I felt that this barrier was loosening. At the same time, I realized that your mental state was not right, so I thought of using the holy emblem to stabilize your sanity - fortunately, I finally caught up with this last step..."

As Lawrence listened to the pastor's story, a mess of thoughts and guesses came to his mind one after another. When he heard the other party mention the words "not right mental state", a belated fear finally appeared in his heart.

He recalled the strange state of himself and other crew members in the last few minutes of the battle with the Haiyan, and a cold sweat seemed to be oozing out from his back.

However, he did not break out in a cold sweat—he was still enveloped in the spiritual flames, and this ghostly body showed no signs of recovery.

Lawrence lowered his head and looked at his arm, which still appeared in the form of an illusory spirit, and had many guesses in his mind.

"A 'favor' from the Lost Homeland..." The old captain shook his head bitterly. For a moment, he didn't know whether to call it a blessing or a curse. "It seems that it is not an easy thing to withstand the gaze of Duncan Abnomer, but at least we survived... If this is really the state of a living person..."

As he spoke, he slowly raised his head and looked through the porthole not far away at the sea beside him.

The ship, shrouded in fog and shadow, still lay there, as still as the shadow of the White Oak.