Ashes Of Deep Sea-Chapter 334 - 338 What a Coincidence
Chapter 334: Chapter 338: What a Coincidence
Chapter 334 -338: What a Coincidence
Annie had no idea what was happening — she had just managed to see two strangers standing at the cemetery gate before an old caretaker’s slightly hunched figure blocked her view. An old man’s voice, tinged with nervousness, reached her ears, “Child, don’t look over there.”
The little girl was somewhat tense, “Caretaker Grandpa, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t move, don’t talk, it’s nothing,” the old man said softly while still keeping his gaze on the towering figure. One of his hands was beside him, shielding Annie’s wandering eyes, and the other pressed against his chest — there lay an amulet which could trigger the cemetery’s alarm system if necessary.
The towering figure began to walk this way.
The old man’s muscles tensed in response.
“Good morning,” a deep voice came from beneath the thick bandages, as if carrying the echoes of a crypt, “I believe this is my first formal ‘visit.'”
It was a clear act of communication, and the tone was amiable — like previous encounters, this indescribable “Visitor” exhibited a friendly stance.
Yet the old caretaker’s muscles didn’t dare to relax. He had anticipated that this visitor would return sooner or later and had thought about the circumstances under which they would communicate. But he never expected them to arrive at the cemetery’s entrance so openly, greeting him from across the way. He was uncertain whether Annie behind him would be affected by the visitor. Thus, all he could do was to shield her as much as possible, quickly pondering his next move.
The old man’s tension was fully apparent to Duncan.
He even seemed more nervous than their first meeting — was it because of the child he was sheltering?
“Relax a little,” Duncan said, his tone carrying a hint of amusement, “I have no hostility — and I would not harm the child behind you.”
“I know you’re friendly, but your very presence may affect ordinary people,” the old caretaker cautiously replied, trying to frame his words so as not to offend the visitor before him, “This child has not been trained in Transcendent matters.”
“Oh, then she’s actually quite safe,” Duncan said, “She won’t be able to see, as you should know.”
The old caretaker fell silent for a moment. He understood what the other meant and knew that ordinary person Annie would likely not be affected by certain Transcendent forces, like he would. Nonetheless, he remained on guard and cautiously asked, “What brings you here this time?”
“Isn’t the priestess around?” Duncan curiously glanced toward the cemetery, “I have something rather important to tell her.”
“She just left,” the old caretaker said, his caution increasing at the mention of Agatha.
“What do you need her for?” he added after a pause, “I can contact her at any time — cemetery caretakers are also clergy and have direct contacts with the church and the gatekeepers.”
“Ah, that’s good, it saves me some trouble,” Duncan said, reaching into his pocket — a motion that visibly tensed up the cemetery caretaker in front of him. Noticing this, he smiled and shook his head, “Don’t be tense. If I truly had ill intentions, I wouldn’t need to lift a finger.”
As he spoke, he pulled a sealed letter from his coat pocket and handed it over to the old man.
“Pass this on to the ‘gatekeeper’ named Agatha, or directly to your cathedral, if you prefer,” Duncan said nonchalantly, “After all, it’s a message. As long as the message is delivered, that’s what matters.”
A letter … A letter?!
The old caretaker looked at the item that had been pulled out in astonishment, automatically taking it before he realized what it was. Blinking in confusion, it never crossed his mind that an indescribable Visitor descending physically to the cemetery would do so just to hand him a letter.
He flipped the envelope over to glance at the back.
On the back, he could see a local print shop’s mark and serial number — it was not some Transcendent force-condensed “Ritual Secret Letter”; it had been bought from a newsstand at the street corner, perhaps even on a whim that very morning.
The old man looked up, his gaze clouded with evident confusion and query.
“I’m just making a small contribution to the safety of the City-State,” Duncan smiled, though his friendly expression was entirely obscured by bandages. Then his gaze shifted past the caretaker to the little girl hidden behind him, “Did I scare you?”
“No,” Annie shook her head, carefully peeking through the gaps between the old man’s fingers at the tall figure opposite her, “I’m very brave.”
“I have a niece; she’s also very brave,” Duncan said, looking toward the old man, “This child is…”
“Just here to visit the cemetery, an ordinary person with no real connection to the church,” the old man interrupted, feeling slightly more relaxed now that he realized Annie was indeed unaffected, “I was just persuading this child to go back; the weather is too dreadful today.”
“It’s easy to slip on snowy days,” Duncan nodded, then casually asked the little girl, “What’s your name? How old are you this year?”
The old caretaker tensed, preparing to warn Annie, who had never encountered Transcendent power, not to speak. Revealing one’s name to a Transcendent of mysterious origins was a highly risky move —
But he was a step too slow.
“My name is Annie,” the girl said without any wariness, “Annie Barbey, and I am twelve years old this year!”
Before the gates of the graveyard, suddenly, a hush fell.
Duncan watched quietly as the little girl peeked her head out from behind the old caretaker, observing her eyes and the brows that faintly resembled those of Captain Cristo Babeli.
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He had asked casually, not expecting… for things to turn out this coincidentally.
The sound of footsteps crunching in the snow came from the side, and Alice looked at the girl who claimed to be “Annie Barbey” with some surprise, then turned her head towards Duncan, “Ah, I remember the surname Barbey, isn’t that…”
Duncan slowly bent down to bring his gaze level to that of the girl, and softened his tone as much as he could, “Your last name is Barbey?”
Perhaps because of the sudden shift in atmosphere, Annie appeared a bit nervous, shrinking back behind the old caretaker, “Yes, yes, that’s right.”
“Captain Cristo Babeli, what is your relation to him?”
“He’s… my dad,” Annie said softly, then instinctively clutched at the caretaker’s clothes, looking up at the old man, seemingly seeking help.
However, the old man showed no response, his face expressing shock as if he had realized something, looking at Duncan with an incredulous expression, and then turning, puzzled, towards the young woman with a veil and golden hair cascading over her shoulders.
“You’re Captain Cristo’s daughter—do you and your mother live on Hearth Street?” Duncan asked another question, looking at the little girl before him.
Annie hurriedly nodded, then seemed to catch on, “You… you know my dad?”
“…Met him, though not too well acquainted,” Duncan said quietly, “He entrusted me with visiting you and your mother, but I haven’t yet had the chance to seek you out. I hadn’t expected to meet you here.”
Annie’s eyes widened in surprise.
The old caretaker beside her did the same.
“My dad, he…” Annie opened her mouth but couldn’t think of what to say; after struggling to put her thoughts into words for some time, she carefully asked, “He’s really dead… isn’t he?”
Duncan gently nodded.
“Then… will he be brought here?” Annie quickly asked, “The adults say that those who believe in the god of death will have their souls return to Bartok’s graveyard after death, and then be led to that gate; the caretaker grandpa told me, this graveyard is…”
As she spoke, Annie’s voice suddenly grew quieter.
In fact, she had stopped believing the tales the old man had told her a long time ago.
She was already twelve this year.
Suddenly, Duncan reached out, ruffling Annie’s head—the thick woolen hat shed an unmelted snowflake that fell and mixed with the snow on the ground.
“Captain Cristo was an incredible man, very incredible—he is now resting well in Bartok’s realm.”
Annie looked up, blinking her eyes.
She did not quite understand what Duncan meant—she didn’t even comprehend the nature of this tall, broad figure before her.
But the caretaker beside her suddenly realized.
The old man abruptly placed his hand on Annie’s shoulder, silencing the child, then lifted his head, looking directly into Duncan’s eyes, “What you said… is it the truth?”
“…I believe it is,” Duncan considered, unsure about the actual nature of the so-called door of the death god Bartok, nor what humans experience after death, but in front of a child, he knew what to say—it was also genuinely what he hoped for, “I personally saw him off.”
The old caretaker’s pupils slightly contracted, but he quickly masked the change in his expression.
“I should be leaving as well,” Duncan said, looking at the still confused Annie, then towards the graveyard caretaker, “There’s still a lot I’d like to say, but I have many things to attend to. We can meet again another time.
“Also, don’t forget about that letter.”
The old caretaker blinked, but before he could speak, he only saw a flash of ghostly green flame disappear before his eyes.
