Ashes Of Deep Sea-Chapter 319 - 323 Last Moments

Chapter 319: Chapter 323 Last Moments

Chapter 319 -323 Last Moments

Duncan, after careful consideration, had decided not to reveal his identity for the time being, as he now knew the details behind the Homeloss’s glorious record of victories.

A century ago, “he” had single-handedly sunk the largest gathering spot of the Death Church’s Believers by dragging it directly into the Subspace in the most horrific manner.

In other words, it was like blowing up Prand in front of Gomona and scattering the ashes.

He thought that if he uttered the words “Captain Duncan” at this moment, the group outside the coffin might just chant slogans and rush to martyr themselves—by then, it would be too late for him to say anything.

After all, he had seen the fierce determination of loyal Believers before—the Believer Fenna, with whom he had no major personal feud, had attempted a flying split at him upon their meeting. The Believers of Death in front of him had a century-old blood feud with the Homeloss…

However, Duncan’s evasive response took on another meaning in the ears of Agatha and the old caretaker.

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The young gatekeeper and the seasoned cemetery keeper exchanged a knowing glance.

“This is some kind of protection,” the former whispered, “the names of higher Transcendents carry power.”

The latter nodded softly, “A friendly presence, at least for now.”

Agatha then refocused, her gaze landing on the coffin once again, while a subconscious question arose: why did this Visitor always choose to use the dead as a “medium” to interact with the real world? Did this imply… that the other party was a being who possessed power over death?

However, as a high priest of the god of death, she had never heard of such a being in the realm of death—a Transcendent being who could drive a battle-hardened cemetery keeper into temporary madness upon a single meeting should not go unmentioned in the scriptures.

Despite the doubts crowding her mind, Agatha did not show it and instead asked in a calm, composed voice, “May I know the purpose of your visit?”

“Just passing by, then noticed this City-State being enveloped by shadows,” Duncan casually mentioned the excuse he had premeditated, “those shadows make me uneasy.”

“Shadows?” Agatha furrowed her brows, then recalling the recent turmoil in this cemetery, she quickly understood, “Are you referring to those Eradication Believers? Their activities…”

“They hardly qualify as shadows; the real shadow lies behind them,” Duncan said unhurriedly. He knew that the young woman’s voice represented the church power of the higher echelons of Frost City-State, and guiding her was essentially warning the Frost authorities effectively, having already prepared a whole set of denunciation materials. “Haven’t you noticed? The power of the Eerie Saint is spreading beneath your city…”

“What… did you say?” Agatha, calm until now, suddenly lost her composure for the first time, none of the scenarios she had imagined included this, “The Eerie Saint?! His power spreading underneath the city… What does that mean?”

From discussing the Eradication Believers to jumping directly to the Eerie Saint behind them… The seriousness of the matter was not on the same level!

“Here’s a suggestion, consider expanding your investigation,” Duncan continued, without answering Agatha’s question, “The activities of the Eradication Believers in your city are just small ripples before a giant wave arrives, something much bigger lurks beneath the surface—pay attention to the deep ocean, to a nearly forgotten ancient deep dive plan, to something that has recently surfaced from the deep sea, all these are interconnected.”

Agatha and the old caretaker exchanged looks.

The young gatekeeper couldn’t connect too many dots for a moment, but the old caretaker, having lived through a certain era, instantly thought of something.

“Are you referring to… the Deep Abyss Project?” the old man blurted out, hesitating as he mentioned the term, “Why would you know about…”

He stopped mid-sentence.

It wasn’t too surprising for a high-ranking presence to be aware of some human secrets.

Agatha’s eyes widened slightly, her gaze shifting between the old caretaker and the coffin numerous times before suddenly stopping. She quickly whispered to the old man beside her, “I need to warn the city hall… there might be trouble at Dagger Island.”

The old caretaker whispered back urgently, “You better go now.”

As they conversed in hushed tones, Duncan’s voice suddenly emerged from the dark coffin again, “Thus, my warning has been delivered, I will not linger any longer.”

Agatha, taken aback, blurted out subconsciously, “Are you leaving now?”

“I still have other matters,” the voice from the coffin sounded, seemingly in a hurry, “If there’s a chance, I’ll visit again.”

With those words, the coffin fell silent.

The Visitor had left, and rather abruptly at that. Agatha and the elderly caretaker were taken aback. They hadn’t expected the mysterious “Visitor” to come tonight just to deliver those few words, just to issue a warning—such sudden visits followed by an equally sudden departure made the figure even more elusive in their eyes.

While the duo in the graveyard were bewildered, Duncan had already returned to that dim, chaotic, eerie space.

His departure had indeed been rushed—in the original plan, he had intended to stay longer in the graveyard, even considering emerging from the coffin to have a formal meeting with the cemetery’s caretaker and the gatekeeper named “Agatha.”

But just now, while walking in the Spirit Realm, he suddenly felt something unusual.

In the dark, star-studded space, Duncan looked up, his gaze falling not far ahead.

The dense constellation representing the beings of Frost flickered in the void, and one of the stars was shimmering with an abnormal fluctuation, emitting an unsettling aura.

Duncan moved closer, staring at that “star.”

Its light was rapidly fading, seemingly indicating that a vivid life was swiftly slipping away. But at the dimming edge of that flickering light, something seemed to be stealthily approaching, attempting to entangle with the starlight.

After a moment of thought, Duncan reached out towards the starlight.

…

Covered entirely by the night, the cold sea surface was undulating with waves, pushing a few pieces of wreckage that had escaped the vortex toward the northern part of Frost City-State.

Among them, a larger piece of debris, like a solitary canoe, had broken free from the surrounding fragments. On this piece, a bulky body, nearly indiscernible in form, suddenly twitched twice.

The body was wrapped in a tattered uniform, scorched marks from flames all over it. The hair on its head had been completely burnt away, its face unrecognizable, its left arm unnaturally twisted, clearly broken by some immense impact, and its legs even more deformed, flesh torn and split open.

Yet, almost no blood flowed from those wounds—the high temperatures of the explosion had cauterized them all.

It was a horrific sight of injuries, yet this body…was still alive.

Belazov tried to open his eyes, struggling several times. It felt as if he had torn part of his eyelids before finally making out some dim shapes through blurred vision.

Dull and chaotic pain spread throughout his body, the organs in his chest seemed as if they had been torn into pieces by a rusty saw, but all these sensations were mixed with an odd numbness, making it nearly impossible for him to discern where each feeling originated from—even unsure if his limbs were still attached to his torso.

He knew his nervous system must have collapsed, his internal organs failing rapidly, the last adrenaline pushing its hardest to keep his brain working. He hadn’t survived—he was just not dead yet.

Memories were slowly surfacing in his mind; he remembered the incident on Dagger Island and rediscovering anomaly on the ship, initiating “Procedure Twenty-two.”

He was surprised—at having not died instantly in such a massive explosion, left with just a breath to reflect on his life at the brink of death.

Perhaps, it was the captain’s cabin that was exceptionally sturdy, slightly shielding him from the explosion. Or maybe, it was because he had failed to save the potential thirty-one regular crew members on board, thus suffering this torment as punishment for his failure.

But none of that mattered now.

He could faintly see the wreckage floating nearby on the sea, from which he deduced that the Sea Swallow had been completely destroyed, its main structure likely having sunk into the ocean.

He had no time to ponder whether those submerged remains might cause unforeseen consequences—he had done his duty, fulfilled his oath to the utmost, and what remained was beyond his capabilities.

Belazov slowly exhaled, amidst the tearing sensation in his chest, calmly waiting for the doors of The Saint Bartok, the god of death, to open to him.

However, the first to come and guide him was not a messenger of death.

In the cold glow of Creation of the World, a tall young man wearing a blue coat, holding a cane, appeared at the edge of the floating wreckage at some unknown time.

A dark chain extended from the base of the tall man’s skull, drifting through the smoky haze into mid-air, and a creature resembling a jellyfish, seemingly formed of smoke, quietly floated at the end of the chain.