Chapter 416

Chapter 416: The Governor’s Whereabouts

Frostholm’s deepest mine tunnels had already run dry decades ago. The “lifeblood” that this city-state lived on was very likely only the result of some twisted power. At the bottom of the Boiling Gold mine, a door left behind by the first City Hall lay buried deep. The current City Hall and the Governor were very likely also part of this secret, and helped maintain it.

Even the well-trained, disciplined Guardians, who often dealt with all kinds of dangerous and uncanny things, could not help falling into shocked silence when they heard this.

After the shock, they also understood why this operation had been classified, and why the Gatekeeper had waited until everyone was already down in the shaft before revealing the exact situation.

News like this, even without considering the threat brought by the supernatural Visions behind it, would be enough to set off a storm in the city-state on the truth of the “exhausted vein” alone.

“We still cannot be sure whether all the tunnels ran dry decades ago, and we are even less sure what has been shipped out of this mine after the vein was exhausted. The only thing we can confirm is this: if all of this is really the product of some ‘corruption’, and if the Anomaly phenomena in the city-state are also tied to this corruption, then we are now standing at the origin and deepest point of that corruption.”

Agatha’s gaze swept over the subordinates around her. Her voice was as calm and steady as always.

“I believe everyone already knows what is happening on the surface. I also know you have had doubts. You wondered why, at such a critical moment, we sent one of our finest squads down here just to investigate a mine. I worry about the comrades fighting those monsters in the fog as much as you do. I worry about the battles in the surrounding seas.

“But we are also standing on a battlefield right now. If we can find out what is really going on in this mine, we will be helping our comrades elsewhere in the best possible way. We will be tracing the crisis back to its root, instead of getting trapped in endless attrition against those monsters in the thick fog.

“That is all. Does anyone have any questions?”

She looked around. What she saw on her subordinates’ faces was the same calm and firm resolve as always. She gave a small nod.

“All right, we move out. Our target is the lowest extraction level. Watch the darkness along the way, and keep checking the ventilation and lighting systems. When you came down, each of you received a Mine Rescue Respirator. Put your masks on now and open the external circulation valve. You all remember how to use them, right? If something happens, turn the valve clockwise to switch to internal circulation, pull out the self-rescue plug, and fall back toward the main drift at once. Keeping yourselves alive is the top priority.”

The Guardians and the priests and nuns moved at once. They put the respirator masks over their mouths and noses, checked the hoses and circulation valves, then clipped the special underground consecrated lanterns to the hooks on their chests so they would not slow their movements.

Agatha did not put on a mask. As the God of Death’s Gatekeeper, her body was already very different from that of an ordinary person, especially when it came to “breathing”. Normal toxic gases and a lack of air did not affect her actions.

Just as the subordinates were getting ready to set out, a light hissing sound suddenly reached Agatha’s ears.

At first, she thought it was only the circulation valves on her people’s masks as they breathed. But soon she realized the hissing came from farther away, outside the group, in the shadows beyond the reach of their lamps.

“Attention!” Agatha reacted at once and called out a warning. A second later, several other Guardian warriors also picked up the sound of a leaking valve in the darkness, and several beams of light swung toward that spot at the same time.

In the hazy mix of light and fog, Agatha saw a figure appear in that dark corner. It was someone wearing a thick black coat and a gas mask, and he seemed to be carrying a gun.

The figure lay collapsed in a pile of junk, breathing with great effort. The hissing sound was coming from his gas mask.

Why did someone suddenly appear here? The Guardians had already checked this whole junction. There was no way they could have missed such an obvious person.

A question flashed through Agatha’s mind, but she did not hesitate. In a few quick steps she reached the figure, who already looked like he was dying. The Guardians followed right behind her.

“…He is a city-state soldier,” one Guardian said at once, recognizing the gear on the fallen man. “From the Governor’s own Guard Corps.”

Agatha quickly looked the soldier over. Over his thick black coat he wore a metal breastplate. The power conduits that linked the breastplate to his arm guards were broken. His military respirator mask covered almost all of his face. She could only tell from his build that he was a male soldier. His fatal wound was near his chest. It looked as if his internal organs had been badly damaged.

One of his arms was already gone. His remaining hand still clutched his rifle.

The sudden light around him seemed to have stirred something. When Agatha came close, the soldier in the respirator mask suddenly moved a little, as if he was trying to lift his head.

The Guardians around them started in shock and grabbed their weapons on reflex. Agatha only waved a hand, stepped forward, and bent down a little.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“Governor… Guard Corps… Martin… Brad… sergeant…”

“Sergeant Brad, why are you here?”

“Governor… Winston…” The man who called himself Sergeant Brad from the Guard Corps spoke in a hoarse voice. The sound under his mask grew weaker and weaker. He said the Governor’s name and struggled to lift his arm, as if trying to point somewhere. “Mr Winston… went into a secret chamber… we need… backup…”

He did not finish. His arm suddenly went limp. From under the respirator mask came one last hiss that faded very fast.

He died. In the very next second, as his life left him, Agatha saw foul black sludge slowly seeping from his wound and from under his mask. His body collapsed as if it were melting, making a sticky, squirming sound that chilled the blood.

“replica!”

The Guardians reacted at once. They backed away in a hurry, while the priest with them stepped forward. He threw a handful of prepared powder over the collapsing corpse and then hurled a pale fireball at it.

With a bang, pale flame leapt up. The replica’s corpse was swallowed in an instant. After a fast, fierce burn, all that was left was a heap of dried, no-longer-moving black sludge and the heat that still hung in the air.

Agatha watched calmly. When the figure had first appeared, she had already guessed that it might be another replica that had crawled out of the thick fog. Now she turned in thought, looking toward the place that “Sergeant Brad” had tried to point to before he died.

“In that direction…” she murmured.

“Lady Gatekeeper, that was only a replica trying to lure us,” the priest beside her said, unable to hold back a warning when he heard her. “It could be an enemy trap.”

“But it seemed not to know it was a replica,” Agatha said with a small shake of her head. “Do you remember the intel we had before? These replicas seem to come in three kinds. One kind is dull and mindless, attacking any living person. One kind seems to be under control and causes damage in the city in an organized way. And the last kind seems to keep the original’s memories and feelings, and does not even notice it is a fake.”

The priest froze for a moment and spoke in a hesitant tone: “You mean…”

For a second, Agatha’s eyes looked a little complicated, but no one noticed that brief pause. After a moment of quiet thought, she spoke in her usual calm voice: “This replica was copied not long ago. He may still have his memories from a few hours ago, or even more recent. On the other hand, since we came down into the mine, all the messages from City Hall have been relayed by the Confidential Secretary. Governor Winston’s whereabouts seem to be unknown.”

The priest reacted quickly. He understood what Agatha meant.

“The replica is fake, but its memories are real,” he said at once. “Not long ago, Governor Winston may really have come here with a squad of soldiers. One of them, a sergeant named Martin Brad, may have died in the tunnels. The thick fog then copied the newly dead sergeant and his memories.”

“Perhaps that is the truth.”

Agatha nodded slightly, then turned toward the tunnel that their hazy lamps lit.

No one knew what waited deeper in the extraction level. But Governor Winston clearly held truths that others did not. Now, at the key moment when the whole city was caught in Visions, he had led a squad of soldiers down into the depths of this mine. Without a doubt, the biggest clues were most likely in that direction.

“Thank you for showing the way.”

Agatha turned back and gave a solemn nod toward the dried sludge that no longer looked human at all. Then she swung her hand toward her subordinates and said: “Stay with me. We are going to find the Governor’s whereabouts.”

…

At the same time, on the endless sea under a chaotic, dim sky, the twin ghost ships swept over the waves like the wind, passing through countless ship shadows, half-real and half-illusory.

Lawrence stood at the bow of the White Oak, looking down at the rolling sea beneath him.

Between the rising and falling waves, he could already see the distant city-state’s reflection.