Chapter 255

Chapter 255: A Brief Farewell

Half a century after the Abyssal Trench Project had ended, Tyrian finally once again felt a chill that had flowed on from that project all the way to this very day.

Those Submersible No. 3s that had surfaced one after another seemed to appear before his eyes again. Along with them, his mind brought up the careful soldiers, the stern priests, and the Queen of Frostholm standing there with a cold, silent face. He seemed to see again the hatches of those submersibles opening. Out of them came mad explorers, came humans that looked right but were not, came swollen, twisted monsters, squirming, shifting chunks of flesh, dead and eerie sludge, dried and suspicious black fibers, and… the empty cabin of the seventh Submersible No. 3.

“At that time, the platform had extremely strict protections. There were many priests and Guardian Wardens on site,” Tyrian said, frowning as he recalled. “But… I have to admit, your question is a bit frightening.”

Duncan did not say anything. After a few seconds he suddenly asked: “How did you deal with those ‘Submersible No. 3s’ in the end?”

“Except for the first one that surfaced, the ‘genuine one’, the other six replicants were all thrown into the Crucible. They were melted down into ingots in the holy fire, then poured into the sea. Even though they were a huge pile of metal, no one dared to keep them,” Tyrian said, his tone a little hesitant. “But if it’s as you say, and even the first one wasn’t the ‘genuine one’, then things would be…”

“Where was the first one kept?”

“If you’re asking where it is now, I don’t know,” Tyrian said, shaking his head. “The Rebels should have destroyed everything related to the Abyssal Trench Project. But no one knows how they destroyed those materials. Maybe they just took them apart and reused them?

“But if you mean in the time before the uprising… after it was retired, Submersible No. 3 was kept in a warehouse in the Harbor district.”

Duncan stayed silent for a few seconds, then let out a light breath: “I understand… Tyrian, thank you for being willing to tell me so much. No matter what, this information has greatly satisfied my curiosity.”

Tyrian, however, looked heavy-hearted. Looking back after so many years to analyze that Abyssal Trench Project again, he had sensed far too many chilling details in it. The project itself had always been full of strange things, but this backward glance into the secret brought a kind of unease that seemed to seep into his bones even more than actually living through it had. The doubt Father had raised about the Queen of Frostholm’s last order made him faintly feel that this old case, which should have ended fifty years ago, had in fact never really ended.

But no matter what, today’s talk was over.

Father had no intention of keeping him here.

Suddenly, the sound of flapping wings came from the side. Tyrian looked toward the sound and saw only the shadow of a bird, wrapped in ghostly green fire, flash through the air. In the place where that shadow passed, bright green flames roared up. The fire rose and twisted, and in the blink of an eye it formed a swirling doorway.

Father’s voice came from the mirror beside him: “Walk through it. You’ll be sent to somewhere near the Grand Cathedral—I think you won’t tell anyone what has happened here.”

“Of course. I’ve never been an informer.”

Tyrian answered, then looked at the flaming doorway. He seemed a bit hesitant, but in the end he made up his mind and stepped forward. Yet just before he crossed the door, he stopped again. He couldn’t help turning back to look at the doll in a Brother’s robe, standing quietly beside the mirror.

“Anomaly 099…” he muttered under his breath, almost to himself. “It’s really too similar…”

“They say Anomaly 099 first appeared on the Frost Sea, near the waters where the Queen of Frostholm was executed and fell into the sea,” Duncan’s voice sounded from the mirror. “I have the same suspicion as you. But even Alice herself can’t explain her origin. Just as you said… there are far too many things in the Deep Sea that we can’t understand.”

Tyrian looked thoughtful. After a moment of silence he suddenly spoke: “It looks like this doll enjoys staying by your side.”

Duncan answered lightly: “At first she clung on and refused to leave, but later I found she could be useful.”

Alice’s answer was far simpler. She laughed happily and nodded as she said: “I like being by the captain’s side. He’s amazing!”

Tyrian looked in some surprise at the expressionless Father in the mirror, then at Alice, whose face was exactly the same as the Queen of Frostholm’s, though in every way but her looks she was nothing like the Queen. After a moment, he suddenly laughed.

It was a kind of lightness and joy that came straight from his heart.

Then he turned around and stepped into the flaming doorway without any hesitation.

The warehouse grew quiet again.

Alice looked toward the direction where the fire had faded, then turned to look at the mirror beside her. After thinking for quite a while, she suddenly blurted out: “Captain, why was he smiling at us just now?”

Duncan replied casually: “How would I know?”

Alice made a confused little sound, thought again, then blurted out another line: “You were talking about Frostholm and that trench thing just now… does it have anything to do with me?”

This time, Duncan did not casually make something up to fool the doll. He thought about it very seriously, then said in a deep voice: “It might.”

“Then can I understand it?”

“It’ll probably be hard.”

“Oh, then I won’t think about it for now,” Alice said, scratching her head. She then smiled and looked at Duncan in the mirror: “Anyway, if there’s anything I need to do or help with, just tell me what to do.”

“I will.”

“Mm!”

…

A flash of fire passed through a dark alley. A moment later, a drowsy Tyrian walked out of the alley and saw the tall doors of Pland’s Grand Cathedral not far away.

“It really did send me nearby…”

The Pirate Lord muttered a line, then lifted his hand to tap his head, which still felt dull from the blow that had left him dazed. But he accidentally touched the swollen spot and sucked in a sharp breath of pain at once.

That little girl’s strength was a bit too scary… That was a Abyssal demon heavier than two or three grown men put together!

Thinking of how he had gotten the wound on his head, Tyrian couldn’t help grumbling to himself. At the same time, he couldn’t help feeling curious.

His own Father was indeed gathering a new crew. At least from what he had seen so far, Father had already taken control of Anomaly 099 and had a strange girl who could summon Abyssal demons and wield great power working for him. But that was clearly not all.

Even if he had learned this only yesterday, it would have been more than enough to make him extremely wary, even to the point of wanting to warn the city-states and the Church. But right now, he had no desire at all to “inform” on Father to the Church.

Now his head was full of thoughts about the Abyssal Trench Project.

Tyrian walked toward the Storm Cathedral. After only a few steps, he saw several figures appear at the cathedral doors and jog toward him.

They were the sailors he had sent back earlier.

Their captain had vanished for a whole day after leaving them only a single line of explanation. That had clearly made his men uneasy.

In a moment, the sailors reached Tyrian. Before even coming to a full stop, one of them began to babble: “You’re finally back, sir! The Sun is almost down. Where did you go?”

Another sailor saw at once that something was off about Tyrian and gasped: “Captain, your face is hurt… and how did your head swell up that much?!”

Tyrian had known he couldn’t hide how battered he looked. He had hoped his healing ability, which was far beyond that of an ordinary person, might let him recover before he returned to the Grand Cathedral. But it turned out that, even if that strange girl still had a lot to learn about handling Abyssal demons, wounds made by Abyssal demons were still very troublesome. It had already been half a day, and his head was still swollen.

“…I tripped on the way.”

After holding it in for a long time, Tyrian still could only brush it off with that clumsy excuse.

He really couldn’t bring himself to admit, in front of his own men, that this was the result of “Dad-inflicted damage”—especially when Father hadn’t even done it himself. The one who had hit him was just a little young lady whose head barely reached his chest.

“Tripped?” The sailor who had spoken first looked at his captain in confusion. “Then your fall was a bit… too advanced. It’s like you used your head to beat Pland’s walls and streets to death…”

Tyrian stared at this sailor with a deep look and said, word by word: “I. Tripped. On. The. Way.”

The sailor shivered and came to his senses at once: “Oh, oh, right, yes. You clearly just slipped by accident. I’ll put some medicine on it for you when we get back…”

“Enough. I don’t want to discuss this right now,” Tyrian sighed as he walked toward the cathedral doors. “Let’s go back first. I need a good rest today. Then it’ll be time to set out for the north.”

“Go back north? We’re not staying here a few more days? You were still planning to…”

The words “Abyssal Trench Project” surfaced in Tyrian’s mind again. He waved his hand: “Enough. It’s time to go back. There’s still work to do in the Frost Sea…”

The sailors looked at each other, then in the end nodded and obeyed their captain’s decision.

But Tyrian suddenly stopped walking again.

He hesitated for a moment in front of the main doors of the Storm Cathedral, touching the swollen areas on his face and head.

“Let’s go back through the side door.”