Chapter 418

Chapter 418: Nearing Midnight

Gunfire roared. The steam engine drove the heavy mechanical spider as it turned its body. The Six-Barrel Machine Gun spun and spat angry tongues of fire in all directions, sweeping like a reaper through the monsters that kept rising out of the fog. From time to time, bullets also came flying from the thick mist, smashing into the walker’s armor and the sandbags that made up the barricade.

Among the monsters there were also “soldiers”: some were fully armed soldiers, and there were even walking mechanical spiders with black sludge flowing over them.

As the battle went on, these dangerous enemies only grew in number.

“These sons of bitches are copying us!”

A soldier wearing a breathing mask hid behind the barricade. He squeezed the trigger like mad while shouting in rage. The metal armor on his body was covered in scars. The power tubes at the joints were damaged, hissing steam from broken valves. On the steam backpack on his back, the insignia of Frostholm’s elite garrison was clearly visible.

“They’re copying more than just us,” the squad commander shouted. His voice sounded hoarse and dull behind the breathing mask. The fog in the street was getting worse, and to avoid any possible poison in it, all garrison troops entering the combat zone now wore these fearsome masks. “Anything living that appears in the fog is the enemy, it’s all the enemy!”

“I just saw a group of people run past the crossroads up ahead!” another soldier suddenly yelled. “They looked like armed commoners—or sailors from a ship!”

“I saw them too. It was blurry, but they looked like they were burning, and the fire was green!”

The squad commander lifted his head when he heard this. But the next second, a strange whistling suddenly came from the other side of the thick fog, sharp and shrieking, wrapped in death.

A Grenade Shell tore through the fog, slipped through a gap between the barricades, and fell right at the feet of the Steam Walker. There was no time to react. The Grenade Shell exploded, and shrapnel burst out like rain.

The thin metal breastplates could not stop such a deadly blast at such close range. The squad commander and his soldiers were blown away together.

He did not know how much time passed before he slowly regained a bit of clarity. In the corner of his eye, he saw the Steam Walker sway and topple over. Its armor was torn open, every power tube spewed white mist, and the last remaining gun turret scattered one last burst of bullets as it fell.

Countless vague, shifting shapes came out of the fog and surged toward the next crossing.

The squad commander slowly tried to move his body. He found that his hand was clenched tight around a Hand Grenade with its pin already pulled. He could no longer remember when he had picked it up—maybe when he was thrown by the blast, or maybe during the time he was unconscious and his body just reacted on its own.

He felt as if he used up all his strength to throw the Hand Grenade into the fog.

But all he really did was let go.

The gray metal cylinder slipped from his hand, clattered as it rolled across the street, and its fuse spat thin smoke. It rolled to the side of the road and dropped into a dry drainage channel. It passed through the darkness, fell into a crack, slid along a slanted vent shaft, and dropped into Frostholm’s time-worn underground world, into the forgotten dark beneath the city, where it exploded.

“Boom!”

A muffled blast came from somewhere far overhead. The ceiling of the tunnel trembled a little, and a bit of dust and grit rained down.

The “sailor” shrank his neck at once. His shriveled face showed a hint of nervousness: “This place really isn’t going to collapse, right?!”

“It hasn’t collapsed for decades,” Lawrence said as he walked forward. The gas lamps set in the corridor walls on both sides gave off a weak glow that lit the way ahead. “And you’re a mummified corpse. How can you be so timid? You’re an Anomaly. You’re the one who’s supposed to scare other people.”

“I think… digging such a huge space under a city is already scary enough,” Anomaly 077 said with a tense voice. “What were you people thinking…”

Lawrence shrugged. “How would I know? I wasn’t the one who dug it.”

Then he ignored the mummified corpse and lowered his head to speak to the Pocket Mirror on his chest: “Martha, how is it on your side?”

“Very lively,” Martha’s voice came from the mirror. In the background, there were faint sounds of distant explosions and cannon fire. “After you entered the second waterway, the whole mirror world world went ‘crazy’—every ship in and around The Harbor is firing at me.”

“Are you all right?”

“I’m not that easy to sink. But the bad part is that the enemy isn’t easy to sink either. They keep getting reinforced from their reflections.”

Lawrence fell silent for a moment and looked into the deep, dark corridor ahead.

“How far is it from here to the deepest point?” he asked.

“Very far. But you can take a ‘shortcut’.”

Lawrence frowned. “Shortcut?”

“Did you notice the pools of water on the floor? Find a signpost, then find the puddle closest to that sign. Look at the scene in the reflection.”

Puzzled, Lawrence followed Martha’s instructions. He walked to a puddle that matched what she said and looked down at the reflection.

In the reflection he saw a crossroads. On the wall beside the crossing, a metal plaque hung. He could faintly read the words “Upper City Main Sewage Conduit” on it.

He opened his eyes wide and looked up at the wall beside him.

On the wall next to him, the worn plaque clearly said “The Harbor District Sewage.”

Martha’s voice came from the mirror: “Do you see? The world inside the mirror world is not continuous.”

“…Unbelievable… it’s like a dream…” Lawrence murmured. He looked down again at the puddle at his feet. Even as one of the most experienced captains on the Boundless Sea, he had to admit that everything in this city of mirror world was far beyond his imagination. But soon he calmed himself. “So how do we use these ‘shortcuts’?”

“You already have,” Martha said with a laugh. “Once you stand in front of this ‘mirror’ long enough, you’re already there.”

Lawrence stared for a moment, then hurriedly looked up.

In front of him was a crossroads. Dim, yellow gas lamps were mounted on the corridor walls at the intersection. On the nearest plaque, faded letters could still be read:

Upper City Main Sewage Conduit.

Anomaly 077 stared in shock at the suddenly changed surroundings. His gaze darted between the plaques on the wall and the reflections in the puddles. After a long moment, he suddenly shouted: “Is this reasonable?!”

All the sailors around them turned their eyes to the mummified corpse at the same time.

Lawrence paid no attention to the “sailor’s” reaction. He just looked thoughtfully at the dark corridor ahead, and after a long while he frowned and spoke to Martha: “We’re already in the second waterway, but where are the ‘helpers’ you mentioned before? Where are the Queenguard Corps who are fighting in the second waterway?”

The sound of distant cannon fire came from the mirror. Martha’s voice took a few seconds to reach Lawrence’s ears: “Take the left fork. Follow the red markers. Walk until there’s no road left, then stop and wait… They’ll appear. When the time comes, they’ll appear.”

Lawrence frowned. “The time?”

“…The Queenguard Corps attack at midnight, at zero o’clock—every night at zero o’clock. Before that time, they can’t be seen.”

…

In the secret room of the underground contact point beneath the “Golden Flute” tavern, the “Old Ghost” lying on the bed suddenly opened his eyes.

“What time is it…”

The old man’s eyes were still a bit blank. He muttered like someone talking in his sleep. But in the dim room, the only answer was the occasional beep from some listening device, and faint, far-off gunfire coming from who knew where.

The next second, the Old Ghost’s eyes widened.

Faint, far-off gunfire?

Gunfire!

The old man woke up at once. The gunshots reached his ears, thin and hazy, as if they passed not only through thick walls and floors, but also through several decades of time. He scrambled up from the bed and grabbed the thing leaning against the bedside.

It was a Heavy Wrench that he kept by his side even when he slept.

It was his tool, and also his weapon.

“It’s started… it’s started… I can’t sleep here… it’s time to assemble…”

The Old Ghost muttered to himself. His hands shook as he put on his shoes, then he threw on the coat that hung on the nearby chair. After that he lifted his head and looked at the room where he had just been sleeping.

This was the secret room used to communicate with the Sea Mist Fleet. Nemo had arranged for him to rest here and keep an eye on the equipment.

But the next second, the Old Ghost seemed to forget everything about this room. His eyes went cloudy again, and he looked in confusion toward the door not far away.

“Oh! The door is here!”

The Old Ghost suddenly understood and looked pleased. He rushed over and pulled open the iron door that led into the underground passage.

On the other side of the door was a narrow, cold corridor. The lights in the corridor flickered on and off, and a hissing sound came from the gas pipes due to low pressure.

“The gas line isn’t working right… not enough pressure… no, no, this isn’t the time to worry about that…” The Old Ghost stared at the lights in the corridor while he muttered quickly. He stepped forward, but then seemed to remember something and turned back to look at the secret room where he had rested.

The room was empty.

Everyone else was probably gathered upstairs in the tavern.

“Crow, I’m heading out. You stay home and behave yourself!”

The Old Ghost shouted into the empty room. Then he turned around, picked up his Heavy Wrench that never left him, and slowly walked into the deep, dark passage.

He walked toward the second waterway.

The time for the Queenguard Corps to counterattack had come.

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