Chapter 404

Chapter 404: Crossing

In the damp, chilly corridor of the Second Waterway, the Gatekeeper walked toward the deeper darkness.

The black uniform that represented the city’s defenders was already in tatters. The combat Gatekeeper’s cane, made with special techniques, was covered in scars. Pain and exhaustion felt like some distant illusion. In her ears there was only the hollow echo from the depths below.

Her blood seemed almost drained, but her heart still beat. Death was so close that she felt the chill of the world of The dead with every breath. In this dark, lonely corridor there were no more Comrades. She had not seen an enemy for a long time.

But something still accompanied Agatha on this road to death: a small flame that was not very bright, but carried a bit of warmth.

Agatha held her left hand to her chest, carefully guarding that cluster of flame that flickered out of thin air, the Fire Seed. The ghostly green fire lit her chin and a short stretch of the corridor around her. She felt, even savored, the little warmth the Fire Seed gave her, because she could feel that the road ahead was growing even colder.

Or perhaps, it was her own body that was growing cold.

Agatha spoke softly to the flame: “I have already passed the Upper City junction and am getting close to the side corridors near the Boiling Gold mine…”

She lifted her head and glanced at a plaque on the wall ahead. The mottled, old metal plate listed the streets of the district above this section of sewer, helping her confirm where she was.

“This whole stretch, I have met almost no enemies, but the road is getting harder to walk,” she went on quietly. “There is a kind of… suffocating cold that is slowing my steps.”

A deep, commanding voice sounded directly in her heart: “Perhaps those cultists have given up using their minions to slow your steps… They are putting all their effort into the final moment.”

“How are things outside?”

“A heavy fog has risen. It covers the entire city. The city’s Guard Corps is keeping order and urging residents to go home. Guardian squads can already be seen at some intersections. They are carrying consecrated lanterns for night patrols, because the thick fog is blocking the power of the Sun,” the commanding voice in Agatha’s heart said. “Fog is rising over the sea around the city as well. It may stretch for more than a hundred nautical miles.”

“…Those Heretics have made their move,” Agatha said softly. “Maybe my actions pushed them, made them act ahead of time…”

“You do not seem to be in good shape.”

“I may be badly hurt,” Agatha kept walking. Her breathing felt heavy, yet her mind was clearer than ever. “But you do not need to worry about me. I am ready to die. I will carry your Fire Seed into their lair, no matter how.”

“I would much rather watch you finish this mission alive, Agatha. Even if you are an Envoy of the God of Death, there is no need to rush to report to Bartok. By the way, that makes me curious. For you priests of the God of Death, is ‘death’… considered a demotion or a promotion?”

Agatha froze for a moment, then tugged at the corner of her mouth: “Your sense of humor really surprised me. Sorry, I truly cannot answer that. I am afraid all the priests of Death since ancient times have never thought about it. If I get the chance… I will think about it carefully.”

“Good. I hope you find the answer.”

The voice in her mind fell silent for now. Agatha let out a soft breath. She did not know if it was an illusion, but suddenly her breathing did not feel as labored as before, and even her steps became a little lighter.

She glanced at the Fire Seed cradled in her left hand, carefully shielded it, and stepped past another junction.

Water overflowed from a nearby drain and formed a small puddle on the ground. The surface was still as a mirror, reflecting the dim dome above the waterway.

Agatha stepped through the puddle. The calm surface rippled in layers, and in the suddenly shattered reflection there appeared a figure in a black trench coat, body wrapped in ritual bandages, holding a tin Gatekeeper’s cane.

That figure walked toward the direction Agatha had come from. In that brief instant, they passed each other.

…

Agatha suddenly stopped and looked back in some confusion at the place she had just walked past. She saw the small patch of standing water there. The surface, disturbed by footsteps, still rippled in layers.

In the disturbed, broken water she could no longer see the reflection from a moment ago, yet Agatha could not shake the feeling that she had just seen something.

It was a figure, somewhat like herself, yet not quite the same. That figure wore a ragged black uniform, body covered in wounds, as if it had gone through battle after battle, and it had been walking toward the deeper part of the Second Waterway.

That was exactly the place she had just left.

She must have stopped a bit too suddenly, because a subordinate’s voice came from behind her: “Gatekeeper? What happened?”

“That puddle…” Agatha turned back and pointed not far away. “Was it already there just now? Did any of you see anything strange in it?”

“The puddle?” The subordinate looked back at it, face full of doubt. “It was there just now… but I did not see anything strange.”

Agatha said nothing. She fell silent, fixing her gaze on the still-shaking surface of the water for a long time. Only after a while did a trace of solemn thought slowly appear in her eyes.

“Did you see something?” The subordinate could not help sounding a bit worried.

Agatha stayed silent for a moment more before she shook her head lightly: “Do not worry. Everything is fine. Everything… is fine.”

The subordinate was still clearly puzzled, but when he saw his superior’s solemn expression, he held back his curiosity and quickly changed the topic: “What did you find on the other side of that door just now? You have looked very serious ever since you came back…”

Agatha quickly gathered her scattered thoughts. She lifted her head and looked toward the way she had come. The large door leading to the abandoned mine tunnel had already vanished beyond the junction, but she still clearly remembered what she had found in that dark tunnel.

She had not explored that tunnel for long. After confirming her discovery, she had returned to the Second Waterway the way she came and hurriedly led her team back toward the stronghold. Out of necessary caution, she still had not told her subordinates what she had actually found behind that door.

Even now, she did not know how to explain that shocking and bizarre… “guess” to the black-clothed Guards before her.

After a brief hesitation, she turned and continued walking toward the stronghold.

After they had walked some distance, she suddenly spoke softly, almost as if talking to herself: “Frostholm… what does it use to sustain its existence?”

“What does it use to sustain its existence?” The subordinate was stunned for a moment and did not react right away. After a few seconds he spoke hesitantly: “You mean… the city’s economic base? The Boiling Gold business?”

“Boiling Gold is Frostholm’s blood. The mine is the city’s heart…” Agatha murmured to herself, saying things that only confused the black-clothed Guards. “It seems none of us ever thought about the day when this heart might stop beating…”

Another black-clothed Guard could not help stepping forward, a hint of tension on his face: “You…”

Agatha raised her hand lightly and cut him off.

“Do not think too much yet. Nothing is certain. I did see some things on the other side of that door, but whether I can tell you about them will depend on my discussion with the Archbishop.”

She had already calmed down from her earlier unease.

Maybe she had been too nervous. It was only a dried-up, abandoned mine tunnel. For an old mine that had been worked for so many years, it was not surprising for one or two tunnels to run dry. The later decision by City Hall to seal it off was very likely for another reason. Some kind of corruption that had once existed there but had now faded was the most likely explanation.

Jumping to conclusions was a great taboo in any investigation.

Agatha shook her head, yet the brief scene she had just seen in that puddle rose again in her mind.

That battle-worn, bloodstained “self” walking the opposite way in the reflection.

Agatha closed her eyes a little. Her fingers tightened around the Gatekeeper’s cane until the knuckles turned a bit white. But a moment later she opened her eyes again and looked ahead. Her face had already returned to calm.

She still had many things to do.

In silence, Agatha led the Guardian squad back to the stronghold at the underground crossroads, and as soon as she returned, she sensed that something in the atmosphere there was off.

A faintly tense air hung over the stronghold. A priest who looked as if he had just come up from the shaft was talking nervously with the officer in charge of the stronghold’s defense. Several steam walkers that had gone out earlier to clear the side passages had been called back early and now seemed ready to take the shaft lift back to the surface.

Agatha stepped forward quickly, and before she could even ask, the black-clothed Guard commander in charge of this stronghold spoke in haste: “Honored Gatekeeper, something has happened on the surface.”

Agatha frowned: “What is it?”

“Fog. A huge, eerie fog. It covers the whole city and the nearby sea. You cannot even see the Sun in the sky,” the commander reported quickly. “And Malevolent Spirits have appeared in the library and the archives. The scholars on duty managed to suppress them in time, but fear and chaos are spreading through the city. The Archbishop has sent people down to ask you to return at once!”