Deep Sea Embers

Chapter 318: Gradually Distorted

.

In the following moments, Tyrian found himself immersed in the brief chaos and fatigue that ensued from the enormous impact. Struggling to focus his vision, a barrage of sounds overwhelmed his mind as they twisted and churned from the raging storm. Yet, in spite of this, his rational mind remained clear.

He realized that the ghostly flames emanating from the darkness were what kept his sanity intact, preventing it from being corrupted by the enigmatic power of the Nether lord.

Gradually, he managed to steady his breathing. As he hadn’t experienced severe mental pollution, the illusions in his mind quickly dissipated. At the same time, he heard a composed voice from the other side, “It seems you’ve recovered.”

Tyrian lifted his head, looking at the towering figure across the navigation table, “It was you who ‘pulled’ me out just now…”

“You stared at it for too long. Vanna said you were succumbing to a nightmare,” Duncan stated calmly. “Fortunately, I’ve recently studied ‘interfering with dreams.'”

“A nightmare,” Tyrian instinctively rubbed his brow. “Did I appear to be falling into a nightmare just now…?”

“It seems you had a remarkable experience,” Duncan’s tone was inquisitive. He had indeed interfered in Tyrian’s spiritual state, but unlike the usual scenes he saw when using the power of the spirit realm to enter someone’s dreams, he didn’t “see” anything this time. Tyrian’s “nightmare” was only darkness, as if the source of the nightmare had left before he intervened, which further aroused his curiosity about the events that occurred.

“I… encountered an indescribable entity,” Tyrian recalled the visions he had just witnessed, carefully depicting them. “I can’t describe its exact form and don’t dare to remember every detail, but I think it was the Nether lord…”

Tyrian recounted what he had seen and experienced in the darkness, providing details about his various spiritual encounters. Apart from being unable to accurately remember the full silhouette of the mountain-like shadow, he held nothing back.

Upon hearing Tyrian’s story, Duncan’s brow furrowed, “So you’re saying that the only message this ‘Nether lord’ conveyed to you was to ‘run?'”

“Strictly speaking, it was the only thing I could understand,” Tyrian spread his hands. “It seemed to say much, but everything was drowned out by the overpowering noise. Eventually, it appeared to give up and spoke the shortest word I could barely discern…”

Duncan pondered, “So when a person is in a state of heightened inspiration, they can’t hear the whispers of the ancient gods?”

Tyrian didn’t quite comprehend, “Father, what are you talking about?”

“Ah, it’s nothing, never mind,” Duncan dismissed the thought with a wave of his hand, returning his focus to the issue at hand. After thinking it over, he turned to Vanna, “Do you believe Tyrian encountered the Nether lord? Could it have been trying to protect him by telling him to ‘run?'”

“Based on Captain Tyrian’s account and his emotions, even if it wasn’t the Nether lord, it was at least an entity similar to a heretical deity,” Vanna promptly replied. “As for the ‘run’ aspect… I apologize, Mr. Duncan, I can’t make a hasty judgment.”

During the ensuing conversation, she hesitated briefly, as though feeling her answer was not sufficiently accountable, and added, “Information about the Nether Lord has always been scarce, with even the four major churches possessing limited knowledge. The prevailing belief is that the Nether Lord is an enormous, singular entity located at the core of an abyss in the deep sea. It lacks the ability to move or exert its power in the real world. It can’t communicate and seems not to think, like…”

Vanna tapped her temple, seemingly struggling to find the right words to describe such a being, and Duncan casually remarked, “Like a mass of slime submerged in the deep sea? Alive, vast, but neither thinking nor moving?”

“…You might be the only person in the world to refer to the Nether Lord as slime,” Vanna said with an unusual expression, but she nodded gently. “Indeed, as you mentioned, if the information we’ve obtained from the tormented souls of demons and heretics is accurate, the Nether Lord is such a ‘silent heretical god.’ Its sole activity is to continuously create more shadow demons from its body or absorb those who have perished in battle.”

Duncan couldn’t help rubbing his forehead. “…It sounds like some sort of fungal mass…”

The captain was once again using an incomprehensible “subspace dialect.”

However, Vanna was no longer surprised by this, and she ignored the unintelligible words and smoothly continued the conversation. “In general, the Nether Lord can actually be considered a relatively benign heretical deity because it has never shown any intent to encroach on the real world. Nevertheless, it is still classified as a ‘wicked god’ by the four divine churches.”

“So, regardless of its subjective awareness, its mere existence poses a threat?”

“Yes—whether it’s the shadow demons that emerge from it or the fervent Annihilators who have formed contracts with the shadow demons, they all pose a significant danger to the civilized world.”

Duncan remained silent, deep in thought.

For some reason, what came to his mind at that moment was the “Black Sun” that sustained the false corona and was dying in the flames.

However, he only considered it briefly and refrained from forming any opinions about the nature of the Nether Lord—for a simple reason: insufficient evidence. He would not draw conclusions about matters he had not personally experienced.

Tyrian massaged his temples; the noise in his head had completely dissipated, leaving only slight dizziness and fatigue as though he had been awake for several nights. As Vanna shared information about the Nether Lord, he pondered his own thoughts.

“Whether the ‘run’ indicated goodwill or not, one thing is certain: the Obsidian’s current situation is clearly a result of the Nether Lord’s power, and now there are Annihilators active in Frost, likely involved in this matter,” Tyrian said slowly. “If the influence I just experienced is genuinely connected to those who participated in the project back then, then even the Abyss Project is now tied to this issue. Moreover, I believe our primary concern at the moment should be ‘Dagger Island,’ the lingering aftermath of the Abyss Project from half a century ago.”

“The eighth ‘Number Three Submersible,'” Duncan said gravely, “How much do you know about the situation on Dagger Island?”

“There is currently a military-restricted area there, and even with the Sea Mist Fleet’s capabilities, approaching it is difficult. The Vanished might be able to force a landing on the island due to its unique nature, but locating the submarine in a short time could prove challenging. After all, the island is vast, and the research facility has a complex structure. The military personnel on the island may directly order its destruction in an emergency situation…”

Duncan listened and sensed that something was off, so he quickly interrupted the pirate leader, “Hold on, hold on, when did I say we were going to break in directly?”

Tyrian paused for a moment and suddenly realized, “I’m sorry, Father, I thought…”

Duncan waved his hand, indicating that there was no need for an explanation, “Let’s not discuss this, just give me a brief overview of what you know about Dagger Island. It might be useful.”

“Alright, about that small island…”

…

Belazov gazed solemnly at the diving bell suspended in the center of the hall.

He had been in this research facility for two days, and during that time, he spent half of it in the hall, working with the diving bell.

He was not a professional researcher and didn’t understand the mechanical aspects or the significance of the various physical and chemical tests that scholars had conducted on the samples. He stayed here simply because of his curiosity about this mysterious, eerie device.

An irresistible curiosity.

As a Frostian under forty years old, he had not experienced the significant event from half a century ago, but as a high-ranking official of the city-state, he had at least learned about the Abyss Plan from confidential files.

The third submarine held the most critical position in all files, and it was the most terrifying aspect of the entire Abyss Plan.

Rusty and dirty inside and out, it hung quietly on an iron hook resembling a piece of scrap iron that appeared unremarkable.

Professor Maelson stood beside the general, explaining the laboratory’s safety measures.

“… The rope below leads directly to the furnace. In case of an emergency, the hook will release instantly, and the submarine will crash through the grate and fall into the furnace. On the other hand, suppose the release device is activated but the submarine doesn’t fall into the channel. In that case, a connected mechanism will initiate, and the entire room will be detached from the ‘vault’ frame and slide into a cave behind the bay, filled with nitroglycerin explosives.”

“What about the personnel in the laboratory?”

“We have thirty seconds to evacuate – after that, the evacuation passages will be locked,” said Professor Maelson. “However, in the worst-case scenario, the person in charge, which is me, can choose not to open the evacuation passage.”

Belazov nodded slightly and slowly approached the diving bell.

He looked at the dirty circular glass window, curiously peering inside.

Dark red muddy sludge swirled slightly inside the submarine, and something resembling an eyeball pressed against the glass window, looking at Belazov through the gaps in the dirt.

After a while, the general withdrew his gaze, “It’s pitch black inside, I can’t see anything.”

“Yes, we haven’t opened its hatch yet,” Professor Maelson nodded. “So naturally, we cannot clean the inside.”

General Belazov smiled, “As it should be.”