Chapter 312

Chapter 312: An Invitation from the Old Father

No one understood the boundary between life and death better than Tyrian and his Undying sailors.

God of Death Bartok had a gate that anchored the line between life and death. Simply put, as long as a living soul passed through that gate, it reached the world of the dead, and that gate was one-way. In other words, as long as a soul had not passed through it, then no matter if it was a brief corpse awakening or a lasting Undying curse, it did not count as a true “return from death”.

“There are many people in the world who mix up ‘Undying’ and ‘the dead’. Some even think the former slipped through a loophole in the God of Death’s gate,” Tyrian turned his head and looked at the noisy sailors in the square as he spoke calmly. “But in fact, their souls were rejected by that gate because of corruption, so they got stuck on the boundary between life and death. If you follow the strict definitions of the Church of Death, the ‘Undying’ actually still belong to the world of the living.”

Duncan did not speak for a moment. Instead, he recalled his experience in that graveyard.

He had awoken in a coffin and been called a “Restless One” by the graveyard warden. A group of Annihilators had come to steal the corpse, and they had seemed sure that the body would act strangely. Then the shell had suddenly collapsed on its own, as if it had “reached some limit”…

“Frostholm might not have seen a true resurrection of the dead, but people most likely did see the dead walking in the city,” Duncan said slowly after a moment of thought. “It is very likely that a group of Annihilators were behind these events. We just do not know how deeply they have infiltrated the place, or what they are trying to do.”

“Annihilators?” Tyrian was startled. He had not expected this matter to suddenly connect back to cultists again. “How are you sure it is related to them?”

“They once tried to take a corpse from the city-state’s graveyard,” Duncan said. “They looked well prepared, and they had even expected in advance that the body would move—although the final situation turned out to be a little different from what they expected.”

Tyrian listened in a daze. Then he looked suspiciously at his Father: “How… do you know all this? And in such detail…”

“That corpse was me.”

Tyrian: “…What?”

“Just an evening walk. I happened to run into some corpse thieves,” Duncan did not explain in detail. “That is not important. What matters is whether these so?called ‘return of the dead’ incidents are again related to that Deep Sea under Frostholm.”

“The return of the dead and the Deep Sea?” Tyrian frowned. He had never linked these two things before, and now that Father suddenly brought it up, he could not help feeling puzzled. “Why do you say that? Between these two things…”

“It is simple. The body I was ‘temporarily using’ showed a strange collapse at the end,” Duncan said. “During that collapse, its state was very similar to the ‘replicas’ you described from the Abyssal Trench Project.”

“The state during the collapse?” Tyrian sounded shocked, then confused. “But… the replicas from the Abyssal Trench Project came from the seabed more than a thousand meters down. How could the dead in the city-state have anything to do with that place…”

He stopped. His expression grew complicated and heavy. After a moment he finally looked up: “Could it be that this ‘copying’ power has already spread inside the city-state, and the cultists you mentioned are the ones pushing it? But the Annihilators should have nothing to do with the Deep Sea…”

While Tyrian muttered to himself, Duncan suddenly thought of another thing.

In the deepest part of the Obsidian, inside “Captain Cristo’s” mouth, there had been that small piece of flesh that carried the aura of the Abyssal Lord.

If that ghost ship really came from the Deep Sea beneath Frostholm, and if that Captain Cristo—whether he was a replica or the original body—had truly come into contact with the Abyssal Lord… then the Annihilators in the city-state were connected to the Deep Sea.

Tyrian looked curiously at the figure in the ice: “Father, what are you thinking about?”

“How much do you know about the Abyssal Lord? And about the Annihilators?” Duncan suddenly raised his head and asked. “How much contact have you had with them?”

“Not much contact at all,” Tyrian said. “The Annihilators are not as elusive as the Enders, but they also act low?key and move in secret. They are obsessed with studying knowledge about demons and ‘purifying’ themselves through that knowledge. They normally do not get involved with outsiders.”

Tyrian shook his head, then went on: “As for the Abyssal Lord… I have heard that His rank is equal to that of a deity, but He does not have a deity’s divine authority. In the few records that describe Him, He is a huge mass of flesh, crawling at the deepest part of the Abyssal Deep. With countless tentacles, He guards a great rift that leads to Subspace. But some say He is actually stuck in that rift, sealed there by some great power…

“Information in this area is always vague and strange,” he continued. “After all, mortals in the world almost have no way to observe the Abyssal Deep directly. All research on it is based on indirect observation of its projections in the Spirit Realm, and on soul interrogation of some Annihilators.”

Speaking of this, Tyrian could not help asking, with some curiosity: “Why did you suddenly bring up the Abyssal Lord?”

“In the deepest part of the Obsidian, I found a small piece of flesh,” Duncan said. “It is very likely from the Abyssal Lord.”

Tyrian: “…What?”

The number of times he had been stunned tonight had clearly already surpassed his old Father’s reaction earlier, when Father had seen twelve Badika dancers performing on the stage.

“I know you do not believe it, but it is true,” Duncan said. He could easily see the disbelief on Tyrian’s face. “I have a Abyssal demon with me. It can help identify it.”

Tyrian still sounded a bit dazed: “A Abyssal demon? To help identify it?”

“A Abyssal Hound—you have seen it,” Duncan said offhandedly. “Though you only saw it for a moment.”

Tyrian froze, as if he remembered something, and quickly reached up to touch his forehead.

Duncan nodded: “Yes, that one.”

Tyrian no longer knew what to say.

Duncan lifted his gaze instead, looking past Tyrian’s shoulder toward the square.

After several rounds of dancing, even the dancers who had taken potions in advance should rest.

“We should end our talk,” Duncan suddenly said. “This matter seems more complicated than either of us thought. It is hard to reach any real conclusion just by talking through a sheet of ice like this.”

“You mean…”

“I will send a messenger over,” Duncan said. “The messenger will bring you to the Vanished. There, we can talk more easily, and you can see with your own eyes what I brought out from the depths of the Obsidian.”

Go aboard the Vanished?!

Even though it sounded like a calm invitation, Tyrian still could not help feeling a sudden chill and tension.

He tried hard to control the change in his expression, but the brief flicker in his eyes did not escape Duncan.

“If you do not want to, I can also come directly,” the voice in the ice said softly. “But then you will first have to prepare your subordinates.”

Tyrian’s expression grew a bit tense.

Should he go to the Vanished himself, or let the Vanished sail into the Sea Mist Fleet’s base?

Either option felt like a challenge to his life’s limits.

But after a short weighing of the choices, he made a decision with his reason.

“Send the messenger,” he said. “It will be easier if I go over there.”

Tyrian looked calmly at Father in the ice.

Reason told him that if Father had truly regained his humanity, then even the Vanished, which had returned from Subspace, was not a deadly forbidden place in theory.

What was there to stop him from going?

If he went alone, then only he needed to prepare himself mentally. But if he let the Vanished sail straight into the home port, then he would not be the only one who needed that kind of preparation.

He only had to fight back a bit of instinctive nervousness.

“That is good,” Duncan nodded, seeming quite satisfied with Tyrian’s answer. Then he stepped back half a step, and his figure quickly dimmed and blurred in the ice. “I will leave first. There are still things I need to do. I will let you know before the messenger sets out.”

Tyrian bent slightly before the ice, which was slowly returning to normal. Only when the last trace of green flame faded did he straighten up again.

Then he steadied himself and turned to walk toward the square.

In the square, the late?night noise had not yet died down. The Undying sailors were either eating and drinking heavily or laughing and talking without restraint. Some rough men near the stage were trying to whistle at the dancers on it—but because their mouths or throats leaked air, they could only make ridiculous sounds.

On the stage, the dancers had already finished their performance. Under the supervisor’s command, they stood in a row, as if waiting for the order to dismiss. The cold wind blew through the gaps between the bonfires and the windbreak boards. A few of the young women seemed to be trembling a little, and in their dull, numb eyes, a touch of lively expression slowly began to appear.

The effect of the alchemical potion was fading. Their normal feelings were about to return to their minds.

Two of the young women slowly showed a bit of curiosity on their faces, but in the eyes of most of them, fear was slowly appearing.

The whole square was full of strange?looking Undying. Even with mental preparation in advance, this was not a scene an ordinary person could easily endure.

First Mate Aiden ran out. He had been watching the stage the whole time. Now he went straight to the highest point in the square and, with his cracked voice, shouted at the still noisy sailors: “Break it up, break it up! The dancing is over! The ones who look the scariest, cover your faces. If you are missing arms or legs, crawl under the tables yourselves. The young ladies are leaving—clear the path beside the stage… Waylon! Get under a table! Just seeing your face makes me jump!”

The sailors in the square roared in response. Those who needed to cover their faces covered their faces, and those who needed to hide hid. They bustled about, noisy and laughing. On the stage, the dancers’ supervisor at first looked a little at a loss at the scene. Then she reacted, gave Aiden a hasty and awkward bow, and quickly led the girls down from the stage.

The girls whose faces showed tension and fear tried hard to hide behind the others as they hurried toward the temporary quarters arranged for them.

Two very bold young ladies even stopped on purpose, blinking as they looked curiously at the Undying in the square.

One girl, passing by Aiden, tilted her head up and said something to him with a bright smile. The First Mate instantly became completely embarrassed and almost fell off the platform.

The dancers from Cold Harbor left the stage.

Aiden finally noticed Tyrian, who had come into the square.