Ashes Of Deep Sea-Chapter 332 - 336 The Puppet and the Coffin
Chapter 332: Chapter 336: The Puppet and the Coffin
Chapter 332 -336: The Puppet and the Coffin
The world through Alice’s eyes seemed to manifest differently from the very beginning compared to that of ordinary people—yet until today, nobody had discovered it.
Even Alice herself hadn’t noticed this fact.
Duncan learned from Fenna about the battle that occurred in the alley, as well as Alice’s performance in that fight—from her detection of the hidden enemy through the “floating lines” to her turning a heretic, who attempted to flee, into a shattered porcelain doll. The entire process left Duncan incredibly surprised.
Now, all eyes were focused on the doll-like lady who was confused throughout the entire incident.
“…So none of you can see the ‘lines’…” Alice finally realized what was going on, scratching her head with an innocent face, “I thought it was common knowledge since everyone has those things floating above their heads and limbs…”
Duncan stared into Alice’s eyes with an exceptionally serious expression, “Let me confirm one more time, everyone has ‘lines,’ correct?”
“Yeah, everyone—except for you, Captain,” Alice responded promptly.
Duncan thought for a moment, then asked, “…Is it that my true self doesn’t have them, or does this body I’m in now also not have them?”
“This body you have now also doesn’t have them,” Alice honestly answered, then added, “Your body in Prand also didn’t have them…”
Duncan nodded lightly, thoughts racing through his mind, a myriad of speculations emerging one after another.
In the world through Alice’s eyes, “lines” floated above everyone else in the world but not above herself and the bodies she inhabited… Therefore, these so-called “lines” were not tethered to the physical body but symbolized something more essential. Was it the soul? Or the persona?
When close enough, she could effortlessly “grab” the lines on others, using them to bind or attack her opponents. What was the nature of this ability? Was it a power that anomaly 099 had from the beginning but never revealed, or a mutation that occurred after she joined the Homeloss?
As Duncan pondered, his gaze never left Alice’s face, which made even the slow-witted doll feel uneasy. She subconsciously twisted her neck, “Captain… you’ve been staring at me… It’s making me nervous.”
“Oh, my apologies,” Duncan quickly came to his senses, blinked, and eased his intense gaze. Then he turned thoughtfully towards Fenna, “As far as I know, Alice’s ‘official designation’ has been changed to anomaly 099-Doll, correct?”
“Yes, her original name was Coffin Doll,” Fenna immediately nodded, guessing what Duncan was getting at, “Are you suggesting that Alice’s power is related to this change?”
“Perhaps… The Coffin and the Doll always represented different powers from the start; the former symbolizes death, hence its blunt beheading ability, while the latter pertains to the manipulation of humanoid figures, fitting the ‘Doll’ trait,” Duncan explained calmly, “Previously, Alice was considered as the ‘contents’ of the Coffin, so the anomaly 099 ‘ensemble’ solely exhibited the Coffin’s trait, but now… the Doll has become the ‘main component’ of anomaly 099, and her original abilities have thus been unleashed.”
“Different powers for the Coffin and the Doll…” Morris murmured softly from the side, having remained silent until now, “It’s a plausible conjecture.”
Duncan felt somewhat emotional.
All this time, he had thought the tremendous power of anomaly 099 was gone—after Alice’s wooden box underwent “Transformation,” she was just a slightly eerie, sentient and thinking cursed doll, rather incompetent, cowardly, and simple to boot. Yet unexpectedly, today she displayed such a peculiar ability. What to say…
Indeed, she was worthy of that rank within the top hundred—although she was still quite lacking compared to the rest of the Homeloss crew.
Alice, however, clearly did not have as many thoughts. She just followed the conversation between Duncan and the others with her gaze, looking from one person to another. After a good while, she barely understood some of the situation, showing a slightly uneasy expression and cautiously met Duncan’s eyes, “…Captain, have I done something bad?”
“No, it was good,” Duncan immediately shook his head, “You were brave and took good care of yourself. The heretics are far from innocent.”
“Then…” Alice thought for a moment, raising her hand as if making a gesture, “Is my ability a bad thing?”
Duncan quietly looked at the doll, and after a long pause, a smile suddenly appeared on his face, “It’s a good thing.”
Alice seemed a bit confused.
“You can control it, right?” Duncan asked.
“Yeah, easily,” Alice waved her hand, “It’s very simple.”
“So it’s a good thing,” Duncan spoke with a smile, “Having power is never a bad thing—it’s losing control that causes trouble. Now you can help me even more, Alice.”
Miss Doll finally started to smile, swinging happily from side to side. “That’s great, I thought things were terrible since everyone suddenly became so serious…”
Duncan simply reached out and gently patted Alice’s hair.
Her swinging amplitude was a bit large, and her head was about to fall off.
Meanwhile, his thoughts were far from calm.
Despite knowing about Alice’s current abilities and having generally inferred the “the doll and the coffin each have their own symbolism,” it didn’t mean that all the mysteries had been solved. On the contrary, it only made him more aware of the secrets hidden within this doll.
He had been with Alice for some time now. It was precisely because of these days spent together that he had grown accustomed to the doll’s clamor on the ship and her harmless demeanor—always running around him. He nearly forgot that before becoming the cook of the Homeloss, the doll was anomaly number 099, a strange object that rose from the frigid deep sea after the Frost Queen’s death.
In a sense, she was of the same origin as those weird and twisted “replicas.”
But she was utterly different from any other replicas that had appeared thus far—the reasons for this couldn’t be without cause.
For some reason, he was suddenly reminded of a phrase uttered by an obliteration cultist after the Sea Swallow’s explosion—
“If it were not for that queen…”
Duncan shook his head and suppressed the chaotic thoughts in his mind for the moment, looking up at Fenna.
“Tonight’s situation has made one thing clear, the ‘replicas’ in the city are indeed the handiwork of those obliteration cultists, and not only do they operate in secret, they also covertly monitor the replicas they’ve released into the city—this observation seems like they are collecting some sort of data.”
“From my experience, this is preparation for a more significant action. The replicas we’ve seen in the city are just the beginning, and the corrosion on Dagger Island is likely another larger test site,” Fenna nodded, “They have also tried to transfer the contamination from Dagger Island to the Frost mainland. Although this action was stopped, it has already indicated their operations have reached a crucial stage.”
“It doesn’t matter, I will make a move—but first, I must know where they are hiding,” Duncan said casually, “Killing a few cultists or priests, even destroying several meeting points, is meaningless; Plante’s experience has already proven this.”
As he spoke, he lifted his gaze to look through the gaps in the bandages, his eyes traveling through the grimy window beside him to the Frost’s orderly and crowded steeples and eaves.
“…Where are you hiding?”
The wind picked up, and the second snow began to fall. Snowflakes fluttered down in the night, blurring the streets in the distance into a misty vagueness.
The snow lasted almost all night, only ceasing as the sun rose and the afterglow of the Creation of the World dissipated in the sunlight, with the golden and red glow of dawn spreading along the streets into the city, the fluttering snowflakes gradually coming to a stop.
The cemetery’s heavy and solemn wrought iron gates creaked open, and the old caretaker in a thick coat hooked the gate clasp onto the fence, glancing down the streets toward the city district.
Everything that met his eye was covered with thick snow, and the streets in the distance became a white expanse under the heavy snow, blurring their outlines and boundaries.
Steam pipes above the district emitted white vapor, with the heat from the steam core being sent to critical junctions throughout, to melt ice and snow on the network hubs and power stations; and large snow removal machines had also come out. These giant contraptions billowed white smoke and gave off a deep rumble as they drove down the streets, clearing the vital thoroughfares.
Since that visitor had left, the cemetery had returned to peace, with no further disturbances of the dead. Yet neither the cemetery caretaker nor the guards sent by the church had let their guard down afterward.
In the latter half of the night, a “swift message” was delivered to the caretaker’s cabin via high-pressure steam pipes. The message came from the city hall with a curious content—requesting all transcendental guards in the city to stay alert, though it did not specify what exactly to be on guard against.
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Agatha seemed to have also received some intelligence not long after, dispatching a squad to Fireplace Street. Those guards still haven’t returned.
The wind and snow late into the night were intense; the howling wind and chaotic snowflakes seemed to portend something.
The old caretaker tightened his coat.
“This damned weather…”
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