Chapter 304: “Mud at the Bottom Cabin”
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com
The figure standing before them was the “captain” of the Obsidian, Christo Babelli. He appeared as a grotesque mass of chaotic matter, almost unrecognizable as human, a conglomeration of imitations that had emerged from the deep sea.
Oblivious to his grotesque state, his thoughts seemed fragmented and disjointed. Christo lacked any awareness of time or the distortion of his own body. Despite being devoid of vision and touch, he appeared unusually composed, as if trapped in a strange lethargy.
This slightly squirming, expanding, and contracting mass of biological tissue emitted a hoarse, low-pitched voice. “Christo Babelli” greeted those entering the room, inquiring about the current state of the Obsidian and what had transpired.
Nina, witnessing this bizarre and frightening scene, let out a muffled gasp of surprise, covering her mouth with one hand as she retreated several steps back. The sight was overwhelming for the seventeen-year-old girl.
“The Obsidian had an accident, but we still don’t know the cause,” Duncan replied to the “Captain Christo” while contemplating how to address the situation. “We were just passing by.”
“Ah, that’s unfortunate… I’ve been trapped here, entirely unaware of the ship’s status,” lamented the mass of biological tissue adhered to the door panel. “Is everything else okay? What about the crew and passengers? Have you found them?”
“…No, but we haven’t found any bodies either. They might have already escaped,” Duncan said nonchalantly. “Only this room was locked, and we heard you knocking.”
“I’ve been knocking on this door; it’s the only thing I can touch in the darkness,” said Captain Christo. “May the storm goddess Gomona bless them, as long as the others are safe…”
Despite the northern city-states being under the dominion of the god of death, Bartok, the storm goddess’s authority was supreme on the Boundless Sea—captains prayed to the storm goddess regardless of their origin or faith.
Upon hearing Christo’s prayers, Vanna and Morris frowned in unison. How could this warped entity still correctly mention the deity’s name and pray with a lucid mind?
Duncan noticed this anomaly as well, recalling information about the Abyss Plan he had gleaned from an earlier conversation with Tyrian.
During the Abyss Plan’s failure, clones surfacing from the “Number Three Submersibles” emerging from the deep sea had no reasoning or communication abilities. Even the earliest clone, which appeared most human-like, had only uttered a few indistinct murmurs!
This had been a critical piece of information. Based on this, Tyrian deduced that the uncontrolled supernatural vision in Frost’s ocean could only generate imitations devoid of reason or soul. Yet, despite some cognitive impairments, this warped mass clearly possessed reasoning, memory, and the ability to communicate effectively.
Where had the discrepancy arisen? Was it because the Obsidian was not like the “Number Three Submersibles” and wasn’t a duplicate? Did the twisted phenomena on this ship have a different cause? Or had the uncontrolled supernatural vision in Frost’s waters evolved over half a century, allowing the imitations it created to possess intelligence?
Or…
Duncan quietly glanced at the “Captain Christo” attached to the door panel. Was it possible that the captain’s consciousness was genuinely inside this mass of biological tissue—for some reason, his soul had been inserted into this distorted imitation.
The more Duncan pondered, the more plausible this explanation seemed.
“Are you still there?” Christo’s voice emerged from within the biological tissue, possibly due to Duncan’s prolonged silence. “Can you help me get out of here? Or is my situation actually quite severe? Is it serious nerve damage?”
Duncan sighed. He knew he had to tell the truth, even if it was harsh. The Boundless Sea was no stranger to harsh realities.
Just as he was about to speak, Vanna’s voice suddenly interrupted him: “Mr. Christo, your condition is indeed not good, and we can’t move you right now. You may need to stay here a bit longer—once we complete our search of the other areas, we will find a way to help you.”
Duncan conveyed his question with his eyes to Vanna, who pointed at the wall across the room. A massive hole in the wall revealed a slanted passage leading to an unknown location beyond, dark and menacing.
Duncan immediately understood Vanna’s intention. There were too many unexplored areas on this ship—before determining what had happened to the Obsidian, they couldn’t be entirely sure of the status and origin of this “Captain Christo.”
It was better to stabilize this strange “imitation,” complete the search and investigation of the entire ship, and then consider how to handle it.
Duncan nodded gently. Professionals are professionals, and this kind of sensitivity comes from dealing with various heresies and evil spirits.
“Alright… I understand,” Christo’s voice sounded disappointed and apprehensive. “I’ll wait here. But how long do you think you’ll be gone?”
“It might take a few hours, but we’ll be back as soon as possible,” Vanna assured him. “Rest assured, we won’t abandon you. Although your condition is not good, there shouldn’t be any issues in the short term. Just stay still, relax, and wait for a while.”
“Well… okay, hurry back.”
The writhing, expanding, and contracting mass of biological tissue quieted down. He seemed anxious about his condition, but after Vanna’s reassurance, he calmed down remarkably.
Was this the captain’s nature? Or a result of his distorted cognition? Duncan couldn’t tell.
Now, everyone’s attention was focused on the large hole in the wall at the end of the room. A regular room wouldn’t have such a damaged hole, let alone a twisted slope hidden inside—this hole was clearly a result of the distorted internal structure of the Obsidian.
Duncan crossed the topsy-turvy and chaotic room, approached the entrance of the large hole, and peered inside, only to see darkness in the depths. The passage appeared to be a combination of twisted corridors and staircases inclining downward, with occasional airflow suggesting more passages or larger spaces below.
He stepped in, and the others followed closely. Ai, engulfed in ghost flames, became the team’s searchlight as they moved forward. Under the ghostly illumination, the already dark and gloomy corridor seemed even more bizarre.
“The distortion and chaos below seem to be even more severe than above,” Morris observed, looking at the faintly discernible top of the passage in the interlaced light and shadow.
Above the passage, chaotic overlapping structures were visible: stair handrails, cabin doors of unknown origin, mechanical structures, pipes, wires, and even tables and chairs. If the upper cabins still revealed some semblance of normal structure, this slope leading to the depths of the Obsidian was a jumble of everything smashed and glued together, like a chaotic, interwoven nightmare extending into the bowels of the steel beast.
“It seems the closer it is to the ‘duplicate’s’ center, the lower the duplication’s accuracy,” Vanna said, adding, “If this ship is indeed a duplicate like the ‘Number Three Submersible.'”
“When we get back, I want to talk to Tyrian,” Duncan said casually, “He might be interested in what happened to the Obsidian.”
“But I think he’ll be scared half to death by you first,” Vanna muttered, “I’ve talked to him, and he seems to have quite a significant psychological shadow.”
Duncan slowed down and looked back at Vanna. Vanna suddenly felt awkward, “Did I say something wrong?”
“No,” Duncan laughed, “I’m just amazed that you can finally talk to me normally—this feels right.”
Vanna opened her mouth to say something more, but at that moment, Ai’s light dimmed, and the field of view widened. The passage had come to an end.
There was indeed a large open space below. “Is it a cargo hold?” Morris wondered, looking at the open, dim space. The space was flat and open, surprisingly “neat” compared to the chaotic slope they had just traversed, but he couldn’t determine its original purpose.
“Could the deepest part of this ghost ship be just an empty cavity?” Nina asked nervously, “With everything piled up on the upper two levels?”
No one could answer her question. Alice, curious, took a few steps forward.
“Huh?” Miss Puppet suddenly halted, gasped, and looked astonished at the ground beneath her feet, rubbing her shoe’s sole on the side.
“I think I stepped on something!” She turned to Duncan, speaking innocently, “It’s sticky and somewhat nauseating…”
“Sticky?” Duncan furrowed his brow, approached Alice, and examined the spot where her foot had landed. He observed a dark, sludge-like substance, with Alice’s faint shoe print visible in the thick material.
However, the shoe print was vanishing quickly. This “sludge” was squirming!
It was alive!
“slowed down, looked back” should be “slowed down and looked back”
What remains of the crew?
Either they’re being a failed clone or disintegrated to sludge.
the novel really like random pile of stuff being alive xD it doesn’t even feel surprising anymore after so much exposition in Pland
That sludge reminds me of Venom from spiderman
They must have added even more Salvador Dali paintings to the AI art generator for the crew down below.