Chapter 418: Approaching Midnight
This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.com
The sound of gunfire echoed through the abandoned buildings, reverberating ominously. A colossal mechanical spider, powered by steam gears, pivoted on its massive frame. Its six machine guns whirled menacingly, spewing fiery streams of death that cut down the monstrous creatures emerging endlessly from the fog. Stray bullets occasionally whizzed out of the dense veil, striking the spider walker’s thick armor and the sandbag barricades.
Among the adversaries were grotesque parodies of soldiers, encased in heavy armor, and mechanical spiders oozing viscous black sludge. As the gruesome battle raged, these terrifying foes multiplied in number.
“These abominations are duplicating us!” an irate soldier roared from behind the safety of the barricade, his breath ragged through the filter of his mask. His metal armor bore the marks of countless engagements, and steam hissed out of damaged valves. Emblazoned on his steam backpack was the insignia of Frost’s elite guard unit.
“They’re not merely mimicking us,” retorted the squad commander, his voice strained behind his breathing mask. The street was rapidly filling with a dense haze. To shield themselves from any potential toxic vapors, all combatants had donned respiratory protection. “Every abomination that materializes from the fog is a threat!”
“At the intersection ahead, I spotted a group sprinting past!” another soldier shouted. “They appeared to be armed civilians or perhaps sailors!”
“I saw it too! Their images were blurred, and they were ablaze with eerie green flames!”
The squad commander jerked his head up but was caught off guard by a sudden, otherworldly howl from the fog’s depths, followed by the chilling sound of imminent demise.
A grenade ripped through the fog, navigating the tiny gap in the barricades, and detonated underneath the mechanical spider walker. The explosion let loose a shower of lethal shrapnel.
The thin metal chest plate stood no chance against the close-range blast, sending the commander and his soldiers sprawling.
After what seemed like an eternity, the commander regained consciousness amidst the disorientation. In his peripheral vision, he saw the steam walker wavering before collapsing, its armor shredded and power conduits ejecting clouds of white steam. Its remaining turret spewed a final barrage before toppling.
From the fog, an incalculable number of forms surged forth, advancing towards the next intersection.
The squad commander painstakingly maneuvered his body, his hand gripping a primed grenade with desperation. The exact moment he had pulled the pin was a blur in his memory—perhaps it had been during the blast, or maybe it was instinctive.
He felt as if he had depleted every ounce of his strength, attempting to lob the grenade into the fog. However, in his weakened state, he merely released his grip, allowing the device to tumble onto the street. Smoke trailed ominously from the hissing fuse as it rolled into a gutter, vanishing into the shadowy recesses, slipping into a fissure, skidding down a sloped air vent, and finally plummeting into Frost’s deteriorated subterranean realm. In that darkness, it detonated with a resounding boom.
A distant rumble reverberated from far above, causing the tunnel’s ceiling to quiver slightly, showering the occupants below with a light dusting of debris.
The individual known as “Sailor” instantly recoiled, his withered features etched with unease. “Are we certain this place isn’t going to crumble down on us?!”
“It has remained intact for decades,” Lawrence responded nonchalantly, advancing ahead. The subdued glow from the gas lamps set into the corridor walls barely lit their way. “For a mummy, you’re surprisingly faint-hearted. Shouldn’t you, as an ‘anomaly,’ instill terror in others?”
“I believe… the concept of excavating such an enormous subterranean expanse beneath the city-state is terrifying in itself!” Anomaly 077 countered nervously. “What were you thinking…”
Lawrence shrugged. “How should I know? I wasn’t the one who dug it.”
Unfazed by the mummy’s apprehensions, he glanced down at the small mirror affixed to his chest. “Martha, how’s the situation on your end?”
“Pretty chaotic,” Martha’s voice resonated from the mirror, interlaced with distant sounds of explosions and cannon fire. “Since your entry into the Second Waterway, the entire mirror world has spiraled into madness—all the vessels within and outside the harbor have opened fire on me.”
“Are you holding up okay?”
“I’m not easily dispatched, but our adversaries aren’t either. They’re perpetually reappearing from their reflections.”
Lawrence lapsed into momentary silence, gazing pensively at the dark corridor extending before them.
“How much further until we reach the deepest section?” he asked.
“It’s quite a ways off, but there’s a shortcut you can take.”
Lawrence arched an eyebrow. “Shortcut?”
“Do you see those puddles on the ground? Locate a road sign, then find the nearest puddle and inspect its reflection.”
Baffled yet intrigued, Lawrence complied with Martha’s instructions and approached a puddle fitting the description. He stooped to scrutinize the surface.
The reflection in the puddle presented an image of a crossroad with a plaque on the wall at the intersection. He could barely decipher the inscription: “Main Drainage Pipe of the Upper City District.”
His eyes widened in bewilderment as he glanced up at the wall beside him.
The words etched into the aged plaque read: “Drainage of the Harbor District.”
Martha’s voice resonated from the mirror: “Do you see it? The mirror world is discontinuous.”
“Incredible… It’s like a dream…” Lawrence murmured, peering once again into the puddle. Despite his extensive experience navigating the Boundless Sea, he had to acknowledge that everything within this mirrored city defied his understanding. However, he swiftly regained his composure. “So, how do we exploit these ‘shortcuts’?”
“You’re already at your destination,” Martha retorted with amusement. “Once you’ve lingered in front of this ‘mirror’ long enough, you’ve arrived.”
Lawrence jerked in surprise and looked up.
Before his gaze was an intersection. A flickering gas lamp was recessed into the corridor wall, and the plaque read: “Main Drainage Pipe of the Upper City District.”
Anomaly 077 gaped in disbelief. His gaze darted between the plaque and the reflection in the puddle. After a prolonged silence, he stammered out, “Is such a thing even feasible?!”
The sailors exchanged looks of disbelief, but Lawrence remained unaffected. He contemplated the dimly lit corridor stretching ahead. After a moment, he turned to Martha with a puzzled expression, “We’ve reached the Second Waterway, but where’s the ‘backup’ you spoke of? Where are the ‘Queen’s Guards’?”
From the mirror, the distant sound of cannon fire could be heard. Martha’s voice reached Lawrence a few seconds later, “Take the left fork, follow the red signs. When the path ends, halt and wait… They will show up. When the hour arrives, they will materialize.”
Lawrence’s brow furrowed, “Hour?”
“The Queen’s Guards strike at midnight. They remain invisible until then.”
In the hidden chamber where the “Golden Flute” tavern’s underground communication hub was housed, “Old Ghost” abruptly awoke.
“What time is it…”
The old man’s gaze seemed unfocused as if he was roused from a dream. In the dimly lit room, the only response he received was the sporadic beeping of the monitoring equipment and the faint echoes of distant gunfire.
In the next moment, Old Ghost’s eyes sprung wide open.
The faint echo of gunfire?
Gunfire!
The old man’s senses were jolted into wakefulness. The gunfire sounded muffled and distorted as if muted by thick walls and multiple floors. He quickly extricated himself from the bed and reached for an object on the bedside table.
It was a large wrench that he kept close even in his slumber—his tool and his weapon.
“The battle has commenced… I can’t be idling here… It’s time to muster…”
Old Ghost muttered, shuffling into his shoes before grabbing his coat from the chair. Then, he glanced around the room.
This was the concealed room designated for communication with the Mist Fleet. Nemo had arranged for him to rest here while he monitored the equipment.
But in the next moment, Old Ghost seemed to have forgotten everything related to this room. His gaze grew unfocused again, and he looked at the door with a perplexed expression.
“Oh! The door is over there!” Old Ghost exclaimed with sudden realization. Wearing a pleased expression, he briskly crossed the room and swung open the iron door leading to the underground passage.
Opposite the door, a narrow, chilly corridor unfurled. The lighting flickered intermittently, underscored by the sibilant sound of insufficient gas supply.
“The gas pipeline seems to be malfunctioning… Is the pressure inadequate? No, no, there’s no time to fret over these…” Old Ghost observed the lights in the corridor and murmured to himself. He stepped forward but seemed to recall something and turned back to look at the room he had just exited.
The room was vacant.
Everyone might have congregated in the tavern upstairs.
“Crow, I’m heading out, you stay put!” Old Ghost called out to the empty room, then spun around and began to shuffle towards the dimly lit tunnel with his trusty wrench in hand.
His destination was the Second Waterway.
The hour for the Queen’s Guards to launch their counterattack was upon them.
Huh, old ghost seems can moving between reality
the queen really did it, it seems. she hacked their way into a stand off. every night, they have been fighting, non stop. terrifying.
So this is what the heretics was talking about when he said “if not for the queen”. If the Queen hadn’t done this, the Frost City would have been a replica by the time Capt. Duncan appeared. And when the Queen said ” Don’t taint history” To Capt. Duncan, she feared her plan would go awry if he intervened