Ashes Of Deep Sea-Chapter 313 - 317 Facing Terror

Chapter 313: Chapter 317: Facing Terror

Chapter 313 -317: Facing Terror

The ship was imbued with the colors of memory everywhere—but the longer Tyrion stayed on board, the more he realized there were many things that had changed from what he remembered.

For instance, the objects that seemed alive and would scurry across the ship.

For instance, the Spiritual Body sails that had no substance, floating like gossamer on the masts.

For instance, the unfamiliar first mate in the captain’s quarters—the strange sculpture called “Goat Head” by his father.

He sat opposite the navigation desk, looking at the room’s somewhat familiar items. He could still find many of them in his memories, yet they now bore many more mottled marks. His father sat opposite him, discussing events that transpired between the Deep Sea Church and Homeloss, with that Judge from Prand complimenting at his side from time to time.

The turn of events was completely beyond his expectations.

“A secret agent,” the pirate repeated Fenna’s words in a peculiar tone, with a subtly complex expression on his face, “The Church’s actions… are bolder than I imagined.”

“Honestly, I was quite surprised at the beginning,” Duncan said with a smile, “The pope is an enigmatic person. I don’t know how much of what she says is sincere and how much is for the benefit of the Church or at the behest of Storm Goddess Gomona. But regardless, the development of the situation is in line with my thoughts—I do need a bridge to communicate with the Four Gods Church, and a helper adept at dealing with Heretics.”

“Dealing with Heretics, huh…” Tyrion had a contemplative look, “I remember you mentioned those eradicated heretics, as well as the clues found aboard Obsidian…”

“Bringing you here is for this very reason,” Duncan nodded slightly, casually pulled out a tobacco tin from his coat, opened the lid, and presented the contents to Tyrion, “This is the clue I found in the depths of Obsidian—Holy Master’s Flesh.”

Tyrion held his breath, focused, even though he felt there should be no danger with his father present, yet the moment the box opened, he couldn’t help but tense up. And then, he saw a “chunk of flesh” no bigger than his thumb.

A profound fear and aversion welled up almost instantly, feeling the instinctual reaction of hairs standing on end when one encounters a fierce animal unarmed. The flesh just lay lifelessly in the tin box, but he still felt as though he was being intently watched by some living entity, possessed of immense power and majestic will!

Almost immediately, Tyrion averted his gaze and, upon regaining his composure, realized cold sweat was already flowing down his forehead.

“Are you alright?” Duncan noticed his state and frowned slightly, “Your reaction seems more intense than Morris and Fenna’s?”

Tyrion, still shaken, replied subconsciously: “They didn’t react this much?”

“We felt aversion and danger, but not to such an intense degree… of manifestation,” Fenna immediately said, “What did you feel just now?”

Tyrion openly shared his momentary feelings, then looked intently at the chunk of flesh with a furrowed brow, many thoughts flooding his mind.

“I don’t know if it’s an illusion, but I felt like it… was watching me for a moment,” he said, “as if it’s still alive… or something ‘behind’ it was casting its gaze.”

Duncan and Fenna exchanged a glance.

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Bringing Tyrion here was indeed the right move—without physical contact, some details in clues are difficult to bring to light.

This suspected fragment of the Saint, Holy Master’s Flesh, had a particular response to Tyrion’s proximity and gaze!

“Could it be because you were involved in the Deep Diving Plan back then?” Duncan pondered a moment before voicing his guess—the Deep Diving Plan was the most significant unique aspect of this event that he could think of for Tyrion.

Tyrion didn’t speak for a while, reminisced and pondered for a few seconds before lifting his head: “Can you confirm that the ship Obsidian really went to Frost Deep Sea?”

“I can’t, as there is no direct evidence, but my intuition tells me that it returned from there,” Duncan stated plainly, “The characteristics displayed by the ship are too similar to the ‘Replications’ you described.”

Tyrion didn’t speak for a while, just staring at the small, blackened iron box on the table, seemingly hesitating and weighing his options. After what felt like a long time, he suddenly spoke: “May I take another look?”

“Are you sure?” Duncan looked into Tyrion’s eyes, “It might be dangerous—if the Deep Diving Plan caused you to establish a connection with this thing, then every contact you have with it is reinforcing that connection.”

Tirian fell silent for two seconds, then a slight smile suddenly appeared on his face, “… on your ship, things shouldn’t deteriorate to the worst, should they?”

“… If something does come out, I’ll take care of it,” Duncan nodded slightly and pushed the small iron box he had just taken back in front of Tirian, “Be cautious, and sound the alarm immediately if there are any issues.”

Tirian nodded, took a gentle breath, and once again cast his gaze upon the piece of flesh from the Holy Master from the abyss.

In almost the blink of an eye, that sense of aversion and tension surfaced again, and the feeling of being watched from afar by a towering presence heavily struck his perception. The link created by the Transcendent’s mighty power washed over his mind like a tsunami, and his own instincts for survival nearly caused Tirian to close his eyes on the spot.

But this time, he forcibly fought against his instincts, not averting his gaze, nor did he actively interrupt or resist the will that emerged in his mind.

And it was during this prolonged act of resistance that he finally confirmed the sensation he had vaguely perceived earlier—

The will and power emanating from this “Holy Master’s Flesh”… were actually without malice.

All the fear, danger, and aversion he felt stemmed solely from the natural intimidation caused by the imposing power. That hidden gaze from the other side of the flesh… was nothing more than a pale look.

A thought struck Tirian’s heart, and he lifted his head, ready to share his discovery with his father.

However, the next second, he found himself surrounded by darkness and chaos—familiar cabin and room figures had disappeared from his sight at some unknown time.

He stood up in astonishment, instinctively reaching for a weapon, only to realize immediately that he was unarmed. He cautiously looked around, trying to discern something in the dark chaos, but it was as if a black veil covered his vision, making even his own hands, placed in front of his eyes, appear as nothing more than vague outlines.

It was intense mental interference; his consciousness was being guided and disturbed by something.

But still, he sensed no malice.

Standing somewhat bewildered in the darkness, Tirian suddenly thought he heard a sound.

There was rustling behind him—something massive was moving, and a slightly cold breath approached the back of his neck.

Tirian’s heart tightened in an instant, and he whipped his head around.

A huge, bizarre limb with subtle blue lines amidst dark brown was extending toward him in the darkness.

The limb, resembling a tentacle, boasted a staggering length of hundreds of meters. It rose in the darkness like a pliant pillar, its indeterminate bulge swaying less than a meter in front of Tirian’s face. In the far distance, where the tentacle emerged, an even more enormous and indescribable structure was gradually surfacing from the darkness!

It seemed like a mountain, a city, a chaotic entity that could drive a mortal mad in an instant—an entity that should not have been sculpted by the real world, nor could it be the creation of any deity in their right mind. It resembled some sea creature from the depths, a hybrid of a starfish and a squid, but in the next second, its smokey exterior rippled and gave rise to countless tentacles, limbs, eyes, and tongues in constant flux.

In that brief moment, Tirian’s eyes nearly bulged to their limits, as a torrent of thoughts thundered in his mind. He wasn’t sure if he was frightened or even temporarily lost the ability to judge his own emotions. He just watched, wide-eyed, as the approaching tentacle swayed before him, as if trying to communicate with him, trying to convey some urgent message. But he was utterly unable to comprehend the roaring information mixed within the torrential noise.

Eyes opened up on the surface of the tentacle—many, many eyes. Tirian locked gazes with them, and suddenly, it seemed he finally “heard” a comprehensible message from those eyes and the mountainous “main body” in the distance—

“… Run.”

“Boom!”

A horrible roar exploded in his mind, as if a massive repulsive force was brutally tearing his spirit apart and throwing it back into the real world. Tirian nearly lost consciousness on the spot, but just as he thought his soul would be torn asunder in this boundless darkness and chaos, a wisp of ghostly green flame suddenly appeared in his vision.

The flame roared toward him, enveloping him entirely.

All the terrifying images dissipated in the flames.

Before he could react, those dreadful “hallucinations” and sounds had vanished like a dream—he was back in the captain’s quarters of the Homeloss.