Ashes Of Deep Sea

Chapter 291: Chapter 295 Departure (Extra for Silver Alliance)

“Darn it!”

At the moment he saw that twisted brilliance, the old guard realized he had carelessly fallen into extreme danger—in this cold, deep night, there was an existence that was unimaginably indescribable and unspeakable knocking at his door. What was even more fatal was that a few minutes ago, in order to extract secrets from the souls of two heretics, he had lit strong incense!

That incense was enough to construct the death illusions the caster wanted in the minds of the deceased and greatly enhance the caster’s own perception and mental acuity, which allowed him to discern the presence of the Profound Demons from the slightestconscious fluctuations of the two heretics—the side effect, however, was that it briefly elevated his spiritual vision, making him now almost defenseless in facing the true nature of that Visitor.

Brilliant, twisted starlight surged chaotically outside the door, vaguely outlining a massive, giant-like existence, as if a million roaring noises overlaid into a piercing shriek that rampaged through his mind. Each shriek seemed to tear his soul apart. The old guard stood rigid, seeing a trail of starlight extending towards him, its front end suddenly bursting open as if countless eyes were moving around inside it.

Duncan looked at the old man holding a shotgun in front of him, then peeked behind the old man.

He saw two bodies that had already lost their vitality.

The heretics had been dealt with—the seemingly frail old man appeared to have more strength than he had anticipated.

“It looks like the trouble’s already been taken care of, that’s good,” Duncan smiled and nodded slightly, saying, “I was intending to help, worried you might face danger…”

As he spoke, he glanced down at his current state and quickly added, “Ah, I know I look a bit frightening and very suspicious right now, it’s a long story—there’s an emergency, so I had to temporarily use a low-quality shell, and this body is slowly collapsing, but rest assured, sir, I’m not a bad guy…”

Amidst a rumbling buzz that seemed intermixed with human speech, a few comprehensible words mingled with massive knowledge washed over all senses. The old guard faced the starlight giant amidst an invisible storm, realizing that the other was conversing with him.

This indescribable entity visiting on a winter night seemed to want to communicate something to him.

But he couldn’t hear anything clearly.

Only one thing was crystal clear to him—he was the guardian of the cemetery.

He could not let this dubious existence linger any longer on this land that should provide rest for the deceased.

The old man’s muscles tensed, but he slowly lifted his double-barreled shotgun amidst immense mental pressure and disordered thoughts, aiming the barrel at that god-like powerful… “entity.”

“Leave,” he mumbled unclearly, then raised his voice a bit, “Leave! Do not disturb them!”

Duncan furrowed his brow.

But he quickly understood the old guard’s intense reaction—after all, his current appearance definitely didn’t look like a good guy’s.

His body, emitting black smoke and skin cracking inch by inch, losing half a pound of coal ash each time he moved, the old man only aimed the gun at him without firing immediately, which could only mean that there might not be bullets in the gun…

“It’s time for me to leave,” Duncan nodded, stepped back, not minding the old man’s severe reaction at all, “I was just checking the situation.”

He could feel that the collapse of this body had reached its limit, and his spirit projected from Homeloss was gradually detaching from this crumbling medium.

“My first visit today was quite chaotic, and many unexpected things happened,” he said with a faint smile to the old guard, “But I enjoyed our conversation earlier, and I hope next time we can meet in a more peaceful and stable environment. Goodbye.”

As the spirit withdrew from the body, this shell, dying rapidly due to the Symbiotic Demon’s death, finally completely disintegrated, collapsing face-up and shattering into a pile of dry, cracked charcoal.

The indescribable existence suddenly left, actually leaving.

The old guard felt the immense pressure and maddening noise in his mental world suddenly vanish in a blink, the chaotic starlights disappearing as well. A ringing emptiness emerged in his ears, and amid the persistent ringing, he looked around, seeing the cemetery path winding under the gas street lamp, the shadows alongside the path blurred and overlapping as if harboring countless trembling, jumping outlines. Far and near, the morgue tables were covered with twitching limbs and squirming shadows, pairs of eyes blinking in the darkness, each pair inhuman.

He closed his eyes tightly, chanting the name of the Death God Bartok, then reopened them a few seconds later.

The eerie sights remained in his field of vision but were somewhat better than before, at least he could now discern more of what the real world should look like, noticing the boundary between the road and the morgue tables.

It was the lingering remnants of madness—the good news was that it wasn’t permanent madness, nor utter madness.

The old guard looked toward the path, seeing a pile of strange charcoal scattered beside the road, then looked toward the direction of a distant morgue table, but it was hard to discern the real shape there.

The pale light of Creation of the World illumined this world.

His vast_experience translated into accurate judgment at this moment: he didn’t know how long his mad symptoms would persist. Continuing to be active outside under impaired judgment and potential mental deterioration could only lead to unpredictable outcomes—he wasn’t even certain if the next time he raised his gun he would be aiming at the living or the dead.

The indescribable entity had left, and from the perspective of a higher being, it could be said to have been completely non-offending here, which implies it might have been some kind of benevolent entity—so at least for a while, the cemetery might not be invaded by anything else.

No matter what I had to investigate next, I would have to wait until after sunrise.

The old watchman pondered briefly, then turned and quickly headed back inside his cottage, hastily locking the door and the windows while fighting against ongoing dizziness and ringing in his ears. Relying on memory, he found the herbal medicine and holy oil among a pile of chaotic shadows and writhing objects. He poured them into the four corners of the room, and after he had done all this, he moved to the center of the room. He pushed the still-warm corpse from the chair to the floor, took a seat on the chair himself, and hung a Death God’s Badge on his chest. Clutching a double-barreled shotgun, he silently waited for the day to dawn.

…

Inside the captain’s cabin of the Homeloss, Duncan sighed softly, glancing at his companion.

Ai Yi, tilting her head, suddenly blurted out, “Our warriors are battling the enemy… the situation is turning against us!”

“What has Alice gotten into a fight with now?” Duncan listened to the sounds outside, faintly hearing the clinking on the deck and the occasional outcries of the doll lady. These noises had long become a routine aboard the Homeloss, so he paid no more mind and simply shook his head, “Let her be. She’ll settle down after a fight.”

Saying this, he moved his slightly stiff neck, raising his head to peer through the window.

It wasn’t sunrise yet, and the Endless Sea was still engulfed in darkness.

At the edge of that darkness lay the direction of Frost.

His rushed journey to Frost had not gone smoothly, having failed to find even a single body that could be used for an extended time, and in the end, he never left that graveyard.

Unsuccessful as it may have been, the ordeal hadn’t been without gain.

Duncan was reminiscing about his experiences in that graveyard, sorting through the intelligence he had gathered.

Followers of the Profound Saint of Oblivion… That was the most concerning part.

Four heretics, masquerading as priests of the Death God during the most stringent of curfews, had ventured into the graveyard to attempt a body theft, even risking their lives for it… This was no small matter.

It was foreseeable that the events occurring in that graveyard after sunrise the next day would catch the attention of the authorities in Frost and the local church, causing a stir among the church’s guardians.

As for himself, a “corpse” who had crawled out of a coffin, he would certainly draw the attention of the local church.

That temporarily occupied body…

Duncan furrowed his brows bit by bit.

This was another crucial point.

The body was obviously problematic—not only because four Oblivion heretics had risked coming to steal it in the dead of night, but also due to the bizarre “self-disintegration” phenomenon it exhibited later on.

Duncan looked at his own hands.

He still vividly remembered the spectacle of the body rapidly falling apart.

This wasn’t his first time taking over a body, but it was the first time he had witnessed such a bizarre disintegration—never had such an extreme situation occurred in the sewers of Prand, not even with a sacrifice who had lost a heart!

Meanwhile, Duncan also remembered something an unwitting heretic had let slip:

“This body is almost at its limit.”

Those Oblivion heretics seemed to know something, having anticipated the disintegration phenomenon of the body…

Duncan raised his hand, slowly stroking his chin.

While guessing the intentions of the heretics, he contemplated another matter.

Could this unusual event be connected somehow to Maurice’s “resurrected friend”?

(Thank you to the left-hugging, right-holding, immortal ancient moon for the silver peach, today is a double post~

Additionally, from the end of this month until the 7th of next month, during the double period, seeking monthly tickets~~

ps: Ever since Yang Kang, my thought process has noticeably slowed, and something feels off with my memory. I have to pause several times while writing a chapter and carefully straighten out my thoughts several times to ensure the output is of normal quality. They say many authors experience the same… Who knows how long this will last? Is this mild brain fog?)