Chapter 319

Chapter 319: Hidden Shadows

Belazov finished his inspection of Dagger Island and his supervision of the research work. Now, this military representative had to leave.

By the pier near the Harbor in Dagger Island’s bay, Professor Merson had personally come to see him off. The old man looked up at the Sea Swallow as the ship made ready to depart.

Seamen were boarding. Harbor officials were checking the paperwork. Clergy in robes walked near the mooring lines with censers in hand. They gently swung the censers and offered prayers for the ship’s mechanical parts.

The weather was clear today. It was a good day to set sail.

Belazov stood on the dock, watching group after group of sailors return to the Sea Swallow. Then he turned back to Professor Merson and said: “Professor, I’m impressed with your work here, but I still have to remind you of something—the progress on Dagger Island is slow. Some people back in the city-state are already getting impatient.”

“The orders I received were to, under the premise of safety, figure out all kinds of properties of that Submersible, try to decode its material composition, and at the next stage try to understand how it appeared,” the old professor said calmly. “We’re moving forward according to the schedule.

“If the big shots in the Government Office really have ideas, they can try to find the blueprints the Frostholm Queen left and build a Number Four or even a Number Five Submersible. Sending someone straight down is a lot more convenient than scraping samples in the lab every day.”

“They’re not going to like that answer—but I’d be very happy to pass it on for you,” General Belazov laughed. “They won’t have the nerve to build Submersibles. Their expressions will be even more interesting.”

Professor Merson shrugged. After a short silence, his tone became a bit complicated. “Even though we joke like that, to tell the truth, I’m also worried about the progress.”

Belazov did not speak. He calmly watched this old professor who had lived through the “Queen’s era.”

“Day after day of scraping samples and analyzing their physical and chemical properties is certainly a necessary part of standard research,” the old professor sighed. “But you saw it yourself. What we can get from those samples is very limited.

“Even if we someday really open that hatch, we probably still won’t draw many more secrets from the Submersible. The real secret isn’t here, General. You know what I mean.”

“…It’s down past a thousand meters, Professor. Your ideas are a little dangerous.”

Professor Merson sighed. “I thought a soldier like you would be more inclined toward dangerous ideas than a scholar like me.”

“My duty is to protect the city-state’s safety. That mission makes me lean toward a cautious and conservative way of doing things,” Belazov said lightly. “So, you actually have some intention of restarting… those ‘diving apparatus’?”

“What you really want to say is ‘restart the Abyssal Trench Project,’ isn’t it?” The old professor gave a short laugh and shook his head. “Relax. I’m not that reckless yet.

“But there’s a fact we can’t avoid. The key to this whole matter lies in the deep water, and a diving bell replica sitting in a lab can’t unlock any mysteries. We might really need to think about a ‘reserve plan.’

“It doesn’t have to be an active descent, but if a ninth or even a tenth replica really floats up to the surface, we should at least have some ways to respond.”

“…I’ll pass your suggestion to the Government Office,” Belazov said after a brief pause and a light breath. “Before a clear order comes down, the sealed chamber project will go on as usual.”

The old professor nodded. “Thank you.”

The Sea Swallow left.

The steam-powered fast ship cut through the gentle waves, leaving a spreading wake across the Boundless Sea. Dagger Island’s steep and winding coast slowly shrank in the distance and soon sank into the thin mist so common over the Northern Seas.

On the deck, Belazov withdrew his gaze from the island and turned toward the captain’s cabin.

Although Dagger Island was not far from Frostholm’s main island, the voyage would still take several hours. During this boring trip, he needed to organize his thoughts and carefully consider how to report the matter of the Number Three Submersible to the city-state’s administrators—and how to mention Professor Merson’s final suggestions.

The Abyssal Trench Project… This old case from half a century ago had left an influence so deep and terrifying that it had slowly turned into a taboo people did not even question. But now, new replicas had already begun surfacing from the Deep Sea. They probably truly should take more active measures.

A seaman was waiting near the captain’s cabin. He nodded to the General and reported: “The steam core is running normally. We’ll arrive at Frostholm’s First Harbor in four hours.”

Belazov gave the somewhat unfamiliar seaman a glance and nodded lightly. “I need to rest for a while. Don’t disturb me unless something important happens.”

“Yes, General.”

Belazov returned to the captain’s cabin and sat down at the desk. He listened to the low mechanical sounds coming from deep under the floor and let out a quiet breath.

Soon, he would be back on the main island.

He steadied himself, opened the desk drawer, and took out the notebook he had placed in the hidden compartment ahead of time.

This trip to Dagger Island had brought no Anomaly, and the return voyage was also going smoothly, but some procedural matters still could not be skipped. That was an order, and also his duty.

He opened the notebook. The first line on the page came into view:

“Even if everything is normal, you must confirm your own sanity and judgment. Even if there is nothing suspicious around you, you must still verify the following content.”

Belazov turned the pages and carried out a series of steps with great skill.

The sound of turning paper kept echoing through the room—

“You are left-handed. Confirm this now…”

“Recall a color, then turn to the next page… It should be blue or black.”

“Keyword: dagger. Imagine it. Confirm whether the image in your mind matches the picture on the next page.”

“Your name is Belazov. Try to spell it once in the blank space on the next page.”

“For this departure, the accompanying personnel have been reduced. There are exactly thirty-two people on the ship, yourself included. If the headcount is clearly off, immediately conduct a roll call.”

“The deputy you brought this time is Benjamin Yorden. He has a burn scar by his right eye.”

Belazov kept turning the pages and doing the simple checks or subconscious repetitions. Suddenly, his movements stopped.

His gaze rested on the last line on the page.

“A burn scar by his right eye…” Belazov silently repeated the sentence. A strange doubt floated up in his mind.

Right eye?

He slowly closed the notebook and put it back into the hidden compartment. His expression stayed calm as he stood up and pushed open the cabin door.

“Benjamin!” he called his adjutant’s name.

A middle-aged officer quickly stepped out of a nearby room and came up to Belazov.

“General?”

Belazov looked at Benjamin’s face.

At the center of that face was his eye. One eye, and only one.

A faint sense of wrongness thumped in his heart. Belazov’s rational mind told him that something about what he was seeing was not right, yet a hazy Veil seemed to drape over his thoughts. He could not say exactly what the problem was, and everything still felt very reasonable.

That faint deviation in his awareness made the General grow more alert. He stared at Benjamin for a long time, trying hard to find the source of his unease, until the adjutant’s voice sounded again: “General? Is something wrong?”

“…Benjamin, how many eyes should a person have?” Belazov suddenly asked.

The adjutant froze at once, as if his mind went blank at the question. Seeing this, Belazov spoke quickly: “Forget that question. I just asked without thinking—go back to your room and rest. I’ll go take a look below.”

The adjutant blinked. Although he was puzzled, he still nodded. “Yes, General.”

The one-eyed human named Benjamin returned to his room, and he did not seem to show any Anomaly. Belazov watched his back. First he let out a breath, then turned around and quickly walked toward the end of the corridor.

He knew he had been a bit reckless just now. Once he already had doubts, he should not have asked such a strange question of someone who seemed “not quite right,” even if that person was one of the adjutants he trusted most.

But without that question, he could not have confirmed whether the oddness he had faintly sensed really existed.

Now, he had his confirmation.

Something was wrong on this ship. Some… hidden, dangerous thing had come aboard.

He hurried along the corridor and reached the seamen’s mess.

The mess was full of sailors. The soldiers all looked tense and confused at the sudden appearance of the General.

Belazov’s gaze swept over every person there. Then he waved to them and quickly headed for the bridge.

There were people here as well.

There were many people on the deck too.

For this trip, the Sea Swallow’s personnel had been reduced. There had been exactly thirty-two people aboard when they left, including himself.

The number was wrong. Very, very wrong.

Yet the thought that “everything is normal” kept jumping around in his mind, as if fighting against that sense of wrongness that now lay plainly before him.

Belazov stood at the stairs leading down to the engine room, his expression calm as he cast his gaze down the sloping passage.

His torn awareness was still struggling, but he no longer needed to care about the fine differences between the two forces in his mind.

There were still more than two hours until they reached Frostholm’s main island.

The ship was sailing in a straight line toward the city-state.

He took a slow breath and stepped down toward the engine room in the deepest part of the ship.