Chapter 309: Unlucky Dog
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com
Duncan was genuinely taken aback for a moment before he grasped Dog’s meaning—not due to a lack of understanding, but because the revelation was so startling.
“Are you sure?” Duncan asked, lifting a small piece of gray-black flesh with a faint blue tint from a tiny iron box, pinching it between his fingers. “This thing is part of the Nether Lord?”
“You… You’re pinching it?!” Dog’s voice rose in pitch, clearly alarmed by Duncan’s boldness. “Can’t you feel the immense pressure and power it’s emitting?”
“No,” Duncan shook his head. “Neither Vanna nor Morris had much of a reaction either. They just felt it was somewhat dangerous or unsettling, but nothing as dramatic as you describe.”
Listening to Duncan, Dog instinctively crouched down, taking a fully alert stance beside the table, its blood-red eyes flickering on and off. After a while, it muttered, “It seems to have lost its vitality… or perhaps you’ve suppressed its vitality, but I can’t be sure. I’m a shadow demon, and I have an inseparable connection with the Nether Lord. To me, it’s just an endless shadow and pressure.”
“It might be related to your constitution,” Duncan mused as he closed the lid of the tobacco box and casually put it back in his pocket. He noticed Dog’s condition visibly relaxed as he did so. “I’ll put it away for now; you might feel better.”
“Thank… Thank you, Captain,” Dog’s trembling lessened slightly. It shakily stood up but still looked unsettled, its gaze fixed on Duncan’s pocket. “You said… this flesh came from the depths of the Obsidian?”
“Yes, and from a mortal’s mouth,” Duncan sighed, recounting the events that had occurred after sending Dog and Shirley back to the Vanished. “We found this flesh sample in the mouth of Christo Babelli.”
Dog’s astonishment was palpable upon hearing the full account.
It looked up and exchanged glances with Shirley. For half a minute, neither spoke. Finally, Shirley broke the silence, “Are you saying… that captain named Christo… bit off a piece of flesh from a deity before he died… does the Nether Lord count as a deity?”
“For mortals, there’s no difference; ‘godlike’ is a very broad concept,” Dog responded solemnly, shaking its head slowly. “I… still can’t believe it. I can’t imagine how he did it. Mortals don’t even have the strength to move a finger in front of the Nether Lord, let alone fight back… moreover, how did he see the Nether Lord?”
“Did the Obsidian venture into the abyssal part of the ocean?” Duncan frowned. “Instead of sinking continuously in the real dimension after it sank in Frost’s ocean, was it transported away? Or… beneath Frost’s deep sea, is there actually a passage to the realm of shadow demons?”
“I don’t think it’s likely,” Dog immediately shook its head. “I’ve never heard of a place in the shadow realm that’s directly connected to the real dimension, and if there really was a leak between the two places, Frost would have been torn apart by demons that emerged. The sinking of the Obsidian happened six years ago.”
Duncan pondered for a moment.
However, the information he had now was too scarce, and no matter how much he thought and speculated, it was difficult to find a reasonable explanation.
One thing was certain though: the “flesh” brought out from the Obsidian was extremely dangerous, and it seemed best not to take it out casually.
Of course, he also considered whether to burn the flesh directly or stuff it into the main cannon of the Vanished. Based on the feedback he felt after coming into contact with the flesh, Duncan believed that it could be burned away by his ghost fire as “supernatural fuel.” But after briefly weighing the options, he decided to keep it for now.
What if it could be useful in the future?
While thinking, Duncan’s attention returned to Dog.
The dark hound seemed to have recovered somewhat and consciously avoided looking at the location of the “Nether Lord’s flesh,” appearing much better now.
“Are other shadow demons like you?”
“Huh?” Dog didn’t react immediately. “You mean…”
“You’ve told me before that shadow demons come from the Nether Lord, and the habitats of more powerful shadow demons like you are even closer to the ‘Nether Lord’.” Duncan looked into Dog’s blood-red eyes. “But the way you react when you get close to the Nether Lord’s aura, how do you normally live next to that deity? Trembling every day?”
Dog was clearly taken aback, likely not expecting Duncan’s imagination to be so vivid and specific. After a moment of silence, it shook its head and replied honestly, “Normal shadow demons… wouldn’t react like me.”
“Hm?”
“Reason is the premise of madness,” Dog sighed. “Only with wisdom do you understand fear, and only with humanity can you distinguish animalistic instincts. I’ve deviated from the normal path of shadow demons and thus lost the qualification to approach the Nether Lord.”
Shirley, who was beside them, blinked and suddenly realized, “Dog, did you just say something very philosophical?!”
“Reason is the premise of madness…” Duncan ignored Shirley’s chatter, murmuring thoughtfully. “So, you can’t return to your ‘homeland’ now. Yet, you can’t sever your connection with the Nether Lord, and you can’t get close to the Nether Lord’s aura either. But you’re extremely sensitive to it?”
Dog held its head and sighed, “… That’s about right.”
“You’re quite miserable.”
Dog’s voice sounded like it was about to cry, “Normally, no one would suddenly hold a piece of the Nether Lord’s flesh in front of me… This is a safe and stable real dimension!”
“That was my mistake,” Duncan sincerely apologized. “I hadn’t considered it before.”
“No, no, no, please don’t apologize to me!” Dog was suddenly frightened, quickly crawling under the table. “With just a casual apology from you, who knows if I’ll be entangled in subspace again…”
“… Alright,” Duncan was taken aback and couldn’t help but reveal a strange smile. He shook his head and turned to leave. “I won’t bother you anymore. Continue reading.”
Shirley quickly stood up to see him off, but Duncan suddenly stopped and looked back at her.
“Why don’t you learn from Dog? He can even read elementary school stories now, while you still make mistakes three out of five times when spelling your own name. Aren’t you embarrassed?”
Shirley defended herself confidently, “Dog is a demon that pursues knowledge; it’s normal for him to have strong learning abilities! How can I compare to him?”
“First of all, the phrase ‘pursuing knowledge’ isn’t used like that, and secondly, even if Dog is a demon that pursues knowledge, don’t always avoid knowledge,” Duncan sounded a bit helpless. “In a few days, I’ll have to arrange a test for you to see how much you’ve learned.”
After saying this, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.
As expected, Shirley’s wailing and cursing could be heard a few seconds later at the door.
A happy smile appeared on Duncan’s face as he stepped forward, heading towards his own quarters.
…
Night was falling.
In the hidden harbor of the Mist Fleet, blocked by fog, icebergs, and treacherous currents, Tyrian walked slowly along a path at the edge of the harbor.
The cold night wind blew in from the sea, the sound of waves crashing against the shore was incessant, and the world was bathed in the cold, dark light of creation. In the distance, the faint noise from the harbor square could be heard.
Sailors were having a party, using fine wine, tobacco, and noisy instruments to dispel the emptiness left by the deceased and consuming their cold, endless energy with a night of revelry—but for Tyrian, such gatherings were too noisy.
They were not conducive to his calm thinking.
Another set of footsteps followed him.
It was his loyal first mate, Aiden, who now smelled like a piece of bacon with added cinnamon and clove.
This scent made Tyrian marvel: the people of Pland really had a lot of tricks in the tobacco field.
“You can join the party in the square,” Tyrian suddenly said. “There’s no need to accompany me on a walk in this desolate place.”
“I’m waiting for the late-night part,” Aiden said. “They’ve invited twelve dancers from Cold Port. They have great energy.”
“…”
“Captain?”
“In such cold weather, dancing on a pirate island occupied by the undead, and late into the night as well… Tell me honestly, what kind of damned price did you offer?”
“It wasn’t actually that much,” Aiden scratched his shiny bald head and chuckled. “Last week, when the Raven went on a mission, it happened to rescue ‘Curved Knife Martin’s’ ship. As you know, Martin controls a quarter of the theaters and dance troupes in Cold Port…”
Tyrian: “…”
The commander of the Mist Fleet fell silent for a few seconds in the night wind, pinching his brow. After a few more seconds, his expression returned to calm.
“Let’s talk about Dagger Island.”
“Alright, Captain.”
Did they capture Martin and his ship just for the dancers?