Ashes Of Deep Sea-Chapter 300 - 304 Mud at the Bottom of the Hull
Chapter 300 -304 Mud at the Bottom of the Hull
“That was the ‘captain’ of the Obsidian, Cristo Babeli―a mass of disordered material that could hardly be associated with a ‘human body,’ a pile that had surfaced from the depths of the sea… a fake.”
He seemed to be completely unaware of his own condition, and furthermore… his thought processes seemed to be somewhat impaired.
He was oblivious to the passage of time and was unable to discern the distortion of his own flesh; in the absence of any vision, most of his tactile senses, and the ability to move, his extreme calmness was evident… as if he were trapped in some kind of strange, sluggish state.
That slightly writhing and pulsating mass of biological tissue still emitted a hoarse and deep voice, “Cristo Babeli” greeting the people who entered the room and asking about the current status of the Obsidian, inquiring what exactly had happened.
Nina saw this bizarre and terrifying scene and let out a soft exclamation, quickly stifling her shock, her hand covering her mouth as she instinctively took two steps back.
This scenario was perhaps a bit too overstimulating for her at just seventeen years old.
“Something happened aboard the Obsidian, but we are still unclear about the cause of the incident,” faced with the inquiry from this “Captain Cristo,” Duncan thought of a response as he spoke, “We are just passing by.”
“Oh, that’s really too bad… I’ve been trapped here, totally unaware of the situation on the ship,” the lump of biological tissue clinging to the door let out a regretful sigh, “Is everything else alright? The crew and passengers, have you found them?”
“… No, but we haven’t found any bodies either. They might’ve already evacuated,” Duncan casually replied, “Only this room’s door was locked, and we heard your knocking.”
“I’ve been knocking on this door for a while,” said Captain Cristo, “It’s the only thing I can touch in the darkness. May Storm Goddess Gomona bless us, I hope everyone else is safe…”
In the northern City-States, the dominion belonged to the God of Death, Bartok, but atop the Endless Sea, the authority of the Storm Goddess was undeniably supreme―captains of all origins and faiths would pray to the Storm Goddess before setting sail.
Listening to the other party’s prayers, both Fenna and Morris furrowed their brows simultaneously.
This mass… This clearly twisted entity could actually articulate the name of a deity and even pray with a clear mind?
Duncan had also noticed this and remembered some details about the Deep Abyss Project he had learned from his conversation with Terrian―
During the uncontrolled period of the Deep Abyss Project, those Replication bodies that kept surfacing from the deep sea within “Submersible Number Three” had neither intellect nor communicative ability.
Even the very first Replication, even the one that appeared closest to a human being, had only emitted a few indistinct mumblings!
From the start, this was a very important piece of information based on which Terrian had made a judgement: the uncontrollable Transcendent phenomenon in the Frost Deep Sea could only replicate fakes devoid of intellect and soul, yet the mass before them… the twisted entity, despite appearing to have some cognitive issues, clearly possessed normal intellect and memory, even capable of smooth communication with others.
Where was the problem?
Was it because the Obsidian was not a Replication like “Submersible Number Three” as initially speculated? Was the distortion phenomenon on this ship caused by something else? Or was it because the uncontrollable Transcendent anomaly from the Frost Deep Sea had undergone new changes after half a century, now creating Replication bodies with Spiritual Intelligence?
Or perhaps…
Duncan quietly looked at the “Captain Cristo” adhering to the door.
Or perhaps it could be said, within this mass of biological tissue truly resided the consciousness of that captain—due to some reason, his soul had been crammed into this twisted Replication.
The more Duncan thought about it, the more he believed this to be the most plausible explanation.
“Are you still there?” Perhaps Duncan’s silence had lasted too long, Cristo’s voice came through again from the mass of biological tissue, “Can you help me get out of here? Or is… my current condition actually quite bad? Is it… severe neurological damage?”
Duncan sighed.
He knew he had to tell the other party the truth—even if it was a cruel thing to do.
Cruelties at sea are countless.
But just as he was about to speak, Fenna’s voice unexpectedly rang out from the side, interrupting his action, “Mr. Cristo, your condition is indeed poor, and we are unable to move you right now. You might need to stay here a bit longer—once we’ve completed our search of the other areas, we will try to help you.”
Duncan conveyed his question with a glance toward Fenna, who raised her hand and pointed towards the wall across the room.
There was a huge hole in that wall, and on the other side of the hole was a sloping passage that led to an unknown place, dark and eerie.
Duncan immediately understood Fenna’s meaning.
There were still too many unexplored areas in this ship—before getting a clear picture of what had actually happened to the Obsidian, it was impossible to completely ascertain the state and origin of this “Captain Cristo.”
It would be best to stabilize this strange “Replication” first, and after completing the search and investigation of the entire ship, consider what to do with it.
Duncan nodded slightly.
Professionals indeed―this level of professional sharpness could only come from numerous encounters with various heresies and aberrations.
“Alright… I understand,” Cristo’s voice rose, tinged with regret and unease, “I’ll wait here. But how long will you be leaving for?”
“It might take a few hours, but we will return as quickly as possible,” Fenna said. “Please rest assured, we will not abandon you, and although your condition is not good, there won’t be any problems in the short term. Just stay still, keep calm, and wait a bit.”
“Then…okay, hurry back.”
The writhing, pulsating mass of biological tissue quieted down.
He seemed quite anxious about his own state, but after Fenna expressed her stance, he became surprisingly cooperative and calm.
Was it in the “captain’s” nature to be like this? Or was this also a result of his cognitive thinking being distorted? Duncan did not know.
Now, everyone’s attention was on the large hole in the wall at the end of the room.
Of course, a normal room wouldn’t have such a hole in it, let alone have a twisted and winding ramp hidden within it—this opening was clearly also a result of the internal structural distortion of the Obsidian.
It looked deep and lengthy, but where would it lead?
Duncan walked through the topsy-turvy room to the front of the large hole, peered inside, and saw only its dark depths. A passage resembling a combination of the ship’s corridors and several twisted staircases stretched down at an angle. Occasional drafts of air suggested there were more passages or larger spaces at the bottom.
Read 𝓁atest chapters at fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm Only.
He stepped in, and the others followed closely behind.
The pigeon Ai Yi, ablaze with Spectral Flame, once again became the guiding light for the group, and under the illumination of the spectral flames, the already gloomy and eerie corridor seemed even more sinister.
“The distortion and chaos down here seems to be even worse than above…”
Morris looked up, glanced at the corridor’s ceiling in the flickering light and shadow, and spoke thoughtfully.
Above the passage, he could vaguely make out the chaotic and overlapping structures: the handrails of staircases, hatches from unknown locations, mechanical structures, pipelines, and wires, even tables and furniture.
If the upper decks of the ship still bore some semblance of a normal structure, then this ramp leading deeper into the Obsidian was simply a pile of debris which seemed to have been crushed and glued together, a chaotic nightmare extending continuously into the bowels of this steel behemoth.
“It seems the closer we get to the ‘replication’s’ center, the lower the accuracy of the replication,” Fenna said, and then added, “If this ship is really a replica like ‘Submersible Number Three’.”
“I’ll have to have a chat with Tyrion later,” Duncan said offhandedly from the front, “he might be interested in what happened aboard the Obsidian.”
“But I think he’ll be scared half to death by you first,” Fenna couldn’t help but mutter, “I’ve spoken to him; he seems to have a pretty big psychological shadow.”
Duncan slowed his pace and turned to look at Fenna.
Fenna felt a bit awkward: “Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” Duncan smiled, “I’m just amazed that you can finally communicate with me normally—this feels right.”
Fenna opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something more, but just then, the light from Ai Yi suddenly dimmed, and the view in front of everyone opened up.
They had reached the end of the corridor.
Below was indeed a vast open space.
“Is this the cargo hold?” Morris frowned, looking at the wide and dimly lit area. The space in front of him was flat and open, incredulously “tidy” compared to the previously muddled ramp, yet it was impossible to discern its original purpose.
“Could it be that the deepest part of this ghost ship is just an empty cavity?” Nina muttered nervously, looking around, “Is everything stacked on the two upper levels?”
No one could answer her question.
Alice looked around curiously and took a few steps forward.
“Huh?”
The doll-like lady suddenly stopped, gave a short gasp, then started rubbing the sole of her shoe on the ground next to her, looking down at the ground beneath her feet in astonishment.
“I think I stepped on something!” She turned her head back, innocently saying to Duncan, “It’s sticky and kind of disgusting…”
“Sticky?” Duncan furrowed his brow, quickly came to Alice’s side, and looked at the ground where she had stepped.
He saw a patch of very dark substance, like sludge. In the middle of the black and sticky material, he could faintly make out the imprint of Alice’s shoe.
But that imprint was disappearing quickly.
The “sludge” was moving!
It was alive!
