Chapter 323: On the Verge of Death

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com.

Duncan decided to maintain his anonymity, aware of the supernatural history tied to the Vanished. A century ago, “he” had obliterated the Death Church’s main gathering place by dragging it into subspace, an act comparable to erasing Pland in front of Gomona without a trace.

If Duncan revealed himself as “Captain Duncan,” those outside the coffin might immediately start fervent chants and sacrifices, making any clarification impossible. He had seen the unshakeable faith of followers like Vanna, who, despite having no deep grudge against him, became agitated at his sight. The current devotees of the Death Church and the Vanished had a century-old blood feud.

However, Duncan’s reticence held a different meaning for Agatha and the elderly caretaker. The young gatekeeper and the old cemetery caretaker exchanged knowing looks.

“It’s a form of protection,” whispered the gatekeeper. “The names of higher transcendents carry power.”

The caretaker gently nodded, “A benevolent force, at least for now.”

Agatha refocused on the coffin, a doubt surfacing: why did this visitor consistently use the deceased as a “medium” to interact with the real world? Could it be that the other party wielded power in the realm of death?

As a high-ranking priestess of the God of Death, she had never encountered such an entity in the realm of death – a transcendent being capable of driving a seasoned cemetery caretaker into temporary madness after one encounter should have left traces in various records.

Despite her doubts, Agatha masked her confusion and asked calmly, “What brings you here?”

“I was passing by and noticed this city-state is shrouded in shadows,” Duncan casually provided his prepared explanation. “I don’t like those shadows.”

“Shadows?” Agatha furrowed her brow, linking the recent cemetery disturbances to her thoughts. “You mean the Annihilators? Their actions…”

“They aren’t the shadows; the real shadows lurk behind them,” Duncan calmly replied, knowing the young woman’s voice represented the church’s influence in Frost. Guiding her served as an effective warning to Frost authorities, and he had prepared a comprehensive set of accusations. “Haven’t you realized? The power of the Nether Lord is spreading beneath your city…”

“You mean… what?” Agatha’s composure faltered for the first time, as her prepared responses didn’t cover this. “The Nether Lord?! His power is spreading beneath the city… what does that mean?”

The issue had escalated from the Annihilators directly to the Nether Lord controlling them, signifying a drastically different level of severity!

“I suggest expanding your investigation,” Duncan continued, not answering Agatha’s question. “The Annihilators active in the city are merely minor disruptions preceding a massive upheaval. Something far more significant lies beneath the surface – concentrate on the deep sea, a nearly forgotten ancient deep sea exploration project, and the recent emergence from the depths. All these aspects are interconnected.”

Agatha and the elderly caretaker exchanged glances. The young gatekeeper was at a loss for words, but the old caretaker, having experienced a certain era, quickly made a connection.

“Are you referring to… the Abyss Project?” The old man hesitated slightly when mentioning the term. “How do you know about…”

He stopped mid-sentence, realizing it wasn’t too surprising that a higher being with a clearly elevated status would know some secrets of the mortal world.

Agatha’s eyes widened, her gaze shifting between the old caretaker and the coffin several times before stopping. She hurriedly whispered to the old man beside her, “I need to inform City Hall… Dagger Island could be at risk.”

The old caretaker responded softly and urgently, “You should go immediately.”

As they whispered, Duncan’s voice came from the shadowy coffin again, “Well, I’ve delivered my warning, so I won’t stay any longer.”

Agatha, surprised, instinctively inquired, “Are you leaving already?”

“I have other matters to address,” the voice from the coffin answered, seemingly pressed for time. “If the chance presents itself, I will visit again.”

With that, the coffin fell silent. The visitor had left, rather abruptly. Agatha and the old caretaker were puzzled, not expecting the mysterious “guest” to arrive and depart so suddenly after giving a warning. This enigmatic behavior seemed even more perplexing to them.

As the two stood bewildered in the cemetery, Duncan had already returned to the dark, turbulent space.

His departure was hasty. In his initial plan, Duncan intended to stay in the cemetery for a while. However, moments before, he unexpectedly sensed something unusual while in the spirit world.

Amid the boundless darkness filled with starlight, Duncan looked up, focusing on a nearby spot.

The fine, dense stars representing the beings of Frost sparkled in the void, and one star exhibited irregular fluctuations, emitting a peculiar aura.

Duncan approached and examined that “star,” finding the light rapidly dimming, signifying that a once-lively life was quickly fading. Yet, something stealthily drew near on the edge of the weakening light, attempting to entangle the starlight.

After a moment of consideration, Duncan reached for the starlight.

…

On the icy sea’s surface, shrouded in darkness, a few pieces of debris that had escaped the whirlpool’s clutches floated with the waves. They drifted toward the northern part of Frost, carried by the currents. Among these was a larger piece of wreckage resembling a solitary wooden boat. On it, a burly, barely recognizable body suddenly twitched twice.

The body, dressed in ragged military attire, was covered in horrifying burn marks. Its hair was singed away, its face utterly disfigured, its left hand unnaturally bent, evidently broken by a massive impact, and its legs twisted and misshapen, with torn skin and exposed flesh.

Almost no blood seeped from the wounds – the explosion’s intense heat had sealed all injuries.

Despite the gruesome injuries, this body was still alive.

Belazov tried to open his eyes, struggling several times. It felt as if he had ripped a part of his eyelid before finally seeing a faint, dim light.

A dull and disorienting pain spread throughout his body. His internal organs felt as though a rusty saw had torn them apart. Yet, all these sensations merged into an odd numbness, making it nearly impossible for him to distinguish the source of each pain – he couldn’t even tell if his limbs were still connected to his body.

He realized his nervous system had likely collapsed, his internal organs rapidly deteriorating, and the last of his adrenaline was working hard to maintain brain function. He hadn’t survived – he just hadn’t died yet.

Memories slowly emerged in his mind. He remembered what had happened on Dagger Island and the moment he detected something wrong on the ship and activated “Contingency 22.”

He was somewhat surprised he hadn’t perished instantly in such a colossal explosion but instead had a final breath, able to recall parts of his life during his final moments.

Perhaps the captain’s cabin’s sturdiness had partially withstood the explosion’s impact, or maybe because he had failed to save the 31 crew members on board, he now had to suffer this punishment for his errors.

But none of that mattered anymore.

He could barely see the wreckage floating nearby on the sea, and from that, he inferred that the Seagull had been completely destroyed, with the ship’s main structure likely sunk into the ocean by now.

He had no time to contemplate whether the wreckage that had plunged into the ocean would trigger other unforeseen consequences – he had fulfilled his duty and done everything to honor his oath of loyalty. The rest was beyond his reach.

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

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

Under the cold light of the World’s Creation hanging in the night sky, a tall young man in a blue coat, holding a cane, materialized at the edge of the floating wreckage.

He could see the dark chain extending from the young man’s temple, hovering in the dust-filled air while connected to a peculiar creature with an outline resembling a jellyfish.

For those that just want to support me, you can follow the link to paypal donating. Sadly you won’t be able to get the benefit of reading ahead 

[Table of Content]

[Previous Chapter]

[Next Chapter]