The atmosphere in the captain’s quarters was thick with an uncomfortable, palpable tension that hung in the air for what felt like an eternity. The space was filled with an uneasy silence, making it hard to breathe as if everyone was walking on eggshells and afraid to disturb the fragile equilibrium.
Finally, Duncan decided to cut through the awkwardness. Turning away from Dog, the surprisingly literate shadow demon lounging on the floor, he looked earnestly at Mr. Morris, who was seated next to him. “Mr. Morris, speaking purely from a rational standpoint, do you find it at all credible that we’re in this situation?” Duncan asked, seeking an intellectual refuge in logic.
Morris looked visibly perplexed and disoriented, his face resembling that of someone who’d been dragged out of bed to review a complex document in the wee hours of the morning. He felt mentally stretched, even more so than during the difficult spiritual examinations he had undergone years before on his path toward sainthood. After a lengthy and pregnant pause, Morris found the words to respond. “Since the beginning of recorded history, there’s no precedent for what we’re seeing here. It’s absolutely beyond my realm of comprehension.”
Duncan massaged the bridge of his nose, his face a tableau of conflicting emotions. “Are there any theological tenets in your faith that would suggest the God of Wisdom might extend his blessings to a creature like a shadow demon? Has there ever been a single instance of a demon who can read and write, like Dog here?”
Morris’s face paled at the thought. “A shadow demon is the antithesis of everything civilized society stands for. Not just the God of Wisdom, but no divine being would ever condone such an anomaly.”
Just as Morris finished his statement, Vanna, who had been quietly observing the conversation, chimed in. “Actually, the doctrines of the God of Wisdom state that Lahem extends his love and wisdom impartially to all sentient beings, providing them with the intellectual tools to comprehend the world while also protecting them from harsh truths through a layer of ignorance. Nowhere does it explicitly say that ‘shadow demons’ are excluded from the category of ‘wise creatures.'”
Morris shot back almost reflexively, “Since when are shadow demons considered sentient?” But then he hesitated, glancing towards Dog, who lay contentedly on the floor.
Duncan allowed himself a half-smile. “Well, judging by how quickly Dog is learning, we might be able to sign him up for middle school exams by this time next year. Who’s to say? He might even end up sharing a desk with Nina.”
Feeling overwhelmed, Morris carefully moved to a nearby chair and sat down, taking a moment to regather his thoughts. Finally, he looked towards Dog, who was still on the floor, his expression a complex mix of disbelief and curiosity. “Dog, when you had those visions, did you also hear a divine voice? Did you gain sudden insights into any form of knowledge?”
Dog vigorously shook his head. “No, I only saw those rays of light twice, and they startled me both times. I didn’t hear or feel anything else.”
Morris seemed to regain his composure and shifted to a more analytical mode. “So you only saw a visual representation of Him, but no revelations came through? Did you notice any improvement in your thinking or memory skills? Or any changes in your perception of the world around you after you were pulled back from staring at those rays?”
Again, Dog shook his head. “No, nothing like that happened. And I didn’t even stare at the rays for a long time. I just caught a brief glimpse before I was brought back to reality.”
“Just a quick look, and then you were snapped back to reality?” Morris seemed genuinely puzzled, his brow furrowing as he tried to reconcile Dog’s experience with his own theological understanding. “That’s highly unusual. Encountering the God of Wisdom is typically an event of deep reflection and extended meditation. Even if a mortal mind can’t fully grasp the divine dialogue, it’s definitely not a matter of a mere ‘glance.’ How did you find yourself back in this world so quickly?”
Dog thought for a moment before nuzzling against Shirley’s arm affectionately. “It felt like Shirley was the one who pulled me back. As I was becoming captivated by those brilliant rays of light, I sensed a powerful force tugging me back through our symbiotic chain. And then, suddenly, I was back in reality. Although Shirley doesn’t seem to recall anything about it.”
All eyes in the room immediately turned to Shirley, who suddenly became the epicenter of everyone’s scrutiny.
Feeling the weight of the gazes upon her, Shirley instinctively pulled her neck inward, a bit like a turtle retreating into its shell. However, her expression soon changed to one of pride, as if she were a young child who had just executed an impressive trick and was now awaiting applause.
Duncan’s face went through a series of quick but significant transformations, each more puzzling than the last.
Meanwhile, Vanna voiced her bewilderment: “I’ve never heard of a symbiotic bond between a shadow demon and a human having the ability to counteract a divine gaze. Could it be that the connection between Shirley and Dog is extraordinarily strong, even compared to that of other Annihilators?”
Before anyone could further ponder Vanna’s question, Duncan cleared his throat and gestured towards Shirley, who was still beaming with innocent pride. “Hmm, it may not have been the strength of the symbiotic pact that pulled Dog back. It could also be the potent force of… illiteracy.”
Vanna and Shirley both looked utterly confounded.
Morris was equally stunned, staring at Duncan in incredulity. He knew the captain had an unorthodox way of thinking, but this angle was entirely unexpected! After a moment, however, the notion began to take root in his mind. The more he considered it, the more oddly plausible it seemed.
“Let’s entertain the idea that a metaphysical ‘duel’ took place within Dog,” Duncan elaborated, massaging his temples as if to ease the mental gymnastics he was performing. “On one side, we have the illuminating gaze of the God of Wisdom. On the other, we have Shirley, blissfully unlettered. The reality that emerged demonstrates that, astonishingly, illiteracy managed to triumph over divine wisdom.”
Morris stuttered as he tried to verbalize his thoughts, “Logically, I… I don’t even… nevermind. The debate this would spark among the scholarly community in the city center would be a spectacle to behold. Let’s just go with that hypothesis for now.”
A strange and indescribable mood settled over the captain’s quarters as if reality itself had momentarily warped. Shirley, now standing at the center of this surreal tableau, appeared to be on the brink of tears. She glanced from Duncan to Morris and then, with a forlorn expression, pointed at Dog. “So, am I holding Dog back? Because it was—clearly—it was…”
For an ephemeral moment, perhaps the only one in her life, the notion of taking her studies seriously flitted across Shirley’s mind. But before she could dwell on that thought, Duncan’s voice broke in, “Don’t jump to conclusions just yet. This situation might be far more complex than any of us can currently grasp.”
Upon hearing Duncan’s words, Shirley’s expression immediately shifted, her earlier dejection vanishing as if it had never been. “Ah? What do you mean?”
Duncan didn’t answer Shirley right away. Instead, he directed his gaze toward Dog, the enigmatic creature that had set off this whole chain of events. “Dog,” he began, his deep voice lending gravitas to the creature’s simple name, “you mentioned feeling as if you were being ‘swept away’ when you looked at those lights, correct?”
Dog’s response was an enthusiastic nod, his movements leaving no room for doubt.
Switching focus, Duncan turned to Morris. “Is this feeling of losing oneself typical for those who have experienced an encounter with the God of Wisdom?”
Morris shook his head decisively, his tone carrying an added weight of seriousness. “No, absolutely not. A typical blessing from the God of Wisdom would involve a sort of intellectual and spiritual awakening—a mental dialogue that leaves the recipient feeling enlightened and in control, not disoriented or swept away.”
“What would the consequences be, then, if a shadow demon were actually to receive wisdom or some form of divine grace from the Wisdom God Lahem?” Duncan pressed, steering the conversation toward an uncharted territory of speculation.
Morris looked thoughtful, his mind obviously racing to catch up with Duncan’s line of reasoning. “Such an event has never been recorded. It’s common knowledge that there exists an intrinsic tension, even a sort of ‘repulsion,’ between the creations of the four righteous gods and the chaotic ‘Old Gods.’ Shadow demons are offshoots of the Nether Lord and inherently possess traits of chaos and corruption. Even Dog is not an exception. Should the Wisdom God’s radiance~”
Here Morris paused, his eyes growing solemn as they landed on Shirley. “Should that divine light actually touch Dog, even if it had no intent to harm, its inherent nature might wreak havoc on Dog’s very being. The outcome would be… catastrophic, to say the least.”
Silence engulfed the room as the occupants absorbed the weight of Morris’s words. Suddenly, that quiet was shattered by a raucous squawk from Ai, the dove. Perched on the sea chart table, Ai flapped her wings in what seemed to be a fit of hysteria, jumping up and then landing back down with a surprising thud. After a moment of seeming disorientation, she turned her head toward the goat head on the table and tilted her head, almost as if asking, “Charge Q Coins?”
This odd interruption took everyone aback, but Duncan’s expression subtly changed. A phrase popped into his mind, unbidden but oddly appropriate:
Two incompatible operating systems, data exchange will trigger a fatal error.
Slowly, a light of understanding dawned in Duncan’s eyes as he turned back to Dog. “Could it be that the Nether Lord and LH-02 systems are incompatible? Could their conflicting ‘data’ create a catastrophic error?”
Dog looked perplexed. “Captain, I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Duncan waved his hand dismissively. “Never mind. It’s a complicated theory and hard to explain right now.” He then turned to Shirley, who still looked completely mystified. Sorting through a torrent of thoughts, Duncan finally found the words to explain. “Shirley, you pulling Dog back might have been a good thing. And I emphasize ‘might.’ It could have stopped Dog from experiencing something potentially destructive, from being overwhelmed—or even consumed—by the Wisdom God Lahem’s influence.”
Duncan’s words hovered in the air, inviting everyone to consider that perhaps, just perhaps, their understanding of divinity, wisdom, and even compatibility might be more complex than they’d ever imagined.
Understanding dawned in Shirley’s eyes like a lightbulb suddenly flicking on. “Oh! So, are you saying it might actually be a good thing that I pulled Dog back from the Wisdom God’s influence?”
Duncan found himself at a loss for a more nuanced answer and simply nodded. That affirmation was all Shirley needed to burst into a triumphant cheer. “So does that mean I have a legitimate reason to not do my homework now? I mean, I have to be on standby to pull Dog back, right?”
Duncan stared at her, incredulous. Of all the potential ramifications and profound implications they had just discussed, was that seriously the first thing she thought of?
Before he could formulate a response, Morris beat him to it. “It’s not that simple, Shirley.”
She blinked, clearly taken aback. “What do you mean?”
Wearing a solemn expression, Morris elaborated, “Receiving a blessing from the Wisdom God, or any god for that matter, isn’t exclusively a matter of scholarly achievement. By the same token, your academic performance—or lack thereof—doesn’t necessarily bar you from divine favor. And, based on my recent observations, even if you were to diligently do your homework every day, it likely wouldn’t change your or Dog’s relationship with Lahem.”
Shirley looked like she had just been handed a puzzle with missing pieces. Her face was a blend of confusion and uncertainty as she tried to make sense of Morris’s statement. “So… what are you saying? That doing my homework or not won’t make a difference in whether I can save Dog?”
Morris sighed, sensing that he had not been entirely clear. “What I’m saying is that your ability to ‘save’ Dog from divine influences is likely not tied to your performance in school. While wisdom and knowledge are valuable, they are not the sole determinants of one’s worthiness in the eyes of divine beings. Therefore, not doing your homework shouldn’t be viewed as a ‘legitimate reason’ to avoid a blessing or, conversely, to evade a curse.”
As Morris’s words settled in, the room seemed to grow quiet, leaving Shirley to mull over this new information. The notion that wisdom was more complex than just academic knowledge was slowly sinking in, making her previous enthusiasm about dodging homework feel rather trivial in comparison.
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