Chapter 461

Chapter 461: Convergence

Deep underground behind layer after layer of seals, a hidden facility that led straight to the sea, a vast project no one knew about, secrets buried under piles of truth and lies – half a century of concealment, hopes and dreams from the past, and fears and taboos that had stretched until today.

All of it now came together in front of Agatha, cast in cold metal and hanging in silence among beams that crossed like a skeleton, like frozen years that had somehow started to move again.

A Submersible, secretly built by the city-state’s authority.

Agatha stood quietly before the huge, silent machine. Through the thick black cloth over her eyes, she used her gaze on this mass of steel. A silent pressure seemed to skip at the edge of her senses. After a long time, she finally spoke in a hoarse voice and broke the silence: “How did you find it?”

“There was a lot of luck involved,” Tyrian said. “I believe that even among Governor Winston’s trusted aides, only a handful knew about this. Most of them likely died in the final defense. But after I took over the work at City Hall, I noticed some… abnormal movements of money and personnel, and they all pointed toward a ‘closed research project’ here in the Harbor.”

As he spoke, he turned his head and looked at the giant mass hanging between the steel beams.

“What came after is not very special. Since South Harbor had fallen completely, we decided to search the place from top to bottom,” he went on. “We found a suspicious warehouse, a suspicious shaft, a suspicious underground facility, and a suspicious Submersible.”

Tyrian sounded relaxed, almost light, as he told the story. Even as only a listener, Agatha could not help but admire the skill of this “Steel Vice Admiral”. He had taken over Frostholm and gotten a full picture of everything here so quickly. It was nothing like what a man who had stayed away from the city-state for half a century should be able to do.

A facility this secret could not be found by following a few random clues.

It was as if he had never left Frostholm at all.

“Can this machine still be used?” After a short silence, Agatha could not hold back the question.

“It needs to be checked,” Tyrian said with a shake of his head. “This Submersible was built from the blueprints the Queen of Frostholm left, but it also uses many modern and even current technologies. And there are lots of surface systems in this facility that support the Submersible – air pumps, steel cables, communication devices. We have to figure out their condition and how they work.

“The bad news is that the people who knew these technical details are probably all gone. They died in the defense of Frostholm. When we discovered this underground facility, it was locked from the inside. It seems the people down here were trying to lock those monsters in the quarantine chambers, but sadly… they had no idea how large that disaster really was.”

Tyrian shook his head lightly as he spoke.

“But there is also good news,” he raised his hand and pointed around. “The Submersible is intact. Everything in this hall is intact.”

Agatha did not answer. She only raised her head in silence and turned back toward the way she had come.

The heavy, slightly warped door stood there in her hazy sight. Blood on its surface faintly formed the shape of a handprint. The life in that blood had long since faded, but the outline still gave off a weak glow in her sight.

Tyrian’s voice came from beside her, pulling her thoughts back: “Next, I will try to find people who knew about this secret project. Maybe not all the technical staff were inside this facility at the time. If we really cannot find a single surviving technician, then we can only let some old hands in the Sea Mist Fleet try their luck.”

Agatha frowned in confusion: “Sea Mist Fleet?”

A faint smile appeared on Tyrian’s face: “The ones who took part in the Abyssal Trench Project back then. They will be very surprised when they see this Submersible.”

Agatha fell silent again.

Countless feelings rose and fell in her heart. She did not know whether she should sigh over history circling back, or be glad that somehow, everything seemed to be returning to where it should be.

Tyrian also became quiet. The Steel Vice Admiral slowly put away his smile, and his gaze, now solemn, swept slowly across the hall. At last, his eyes rested on the door that led back toward the shaft lift.

He nodded lightly, as if paying respect to these unknown acts of folly and bravery.

…

The sea breeze was gentle, and the white waves rolled.

The roaring power from the steam core pushed the ship forward. The cold wind from the sea drove the clutter from his mind. Lawrence stood on the high foredeck of the White Oak, wearing the captain’s coat he had used for many years, staring out at the sea ahead.

But the old captain’s heart was nothing like as calm as he appeared.

A gentle female voice came from the pocket mirror hanging on his chest: “Getting nervous?”

“This nervous feeling has not faded since we left Frostholm,” Lawrence clicked his tongue. “After all, we are going to meet that ship on purpose. For a hundred years, captains on the Boundless Sea have only tried their best to run away from that ship, and here we are, sailing toward it on purpose. If the folks at the Explorers’ Association heard about this, they would definitely think I have gone mad.”

“There are not many captains on the Boundless Sea who are not mad. And you are about to become the brightest legend among these mad captains,” Martha said with a laugh in her voice. “Isn’t that a little motivating?”

Lawrence sighed: “You are saying that to a man about to be led to the gallows. You tell him that his noose is the best-looking rope in the world – you might even tie it in a bow for him. Do you think that would be comforting?”

Martha in the mirror opened her mouth, about to answer, when a hoarse, noisy voice suddenly came from the mast nearby: “Of course it would! As long as the noose works, you can tie me into a bow if you like!”

The corner of Lawrence’s mouth twitched. He turned his head toward the sound.

At the top of the prow, a noose hung from the tall mast. Anomaly 077 had put its own neck through that noose and now dangled there, swinging back and forth with the motion of the ship. It looked eerie and wrong.

“Are you still not coming down?” Lawrence snapped, looking up at the mummified corpse hanging on the mast. “You have been hanging there all day.”

“What if it suddenly starts working? I think I already felt a little sleepy just now,” the mummified corpse shouted, still hanging from the rope. “Let me hang there a bit longer – you already agreed I could choose where I sleep.”

“…I did agree that you could choose where to rest as long as you did not disturb others. But at the time, you did not say you would hang yourself from the mast,” Lawrence glared. “You should give it up. Your sealing method has clearly failed. Going with me to report to the Vanished is your only choice.”

The corpse hanging from the mast let out an exaggerated wail, but Lawrence had no mood to bother with it anymore. He lowered his head again and spoke to the pocket mirror at his chest: “Do you think it will go smoothly?”

“Why are you asking me?”

“Your instincts are always sharp. Back in the day, you were the one who chose the date of every departure.”

“…You even remember that…” Martha’s voice held a sigh, then she gave a small laugh. “Stop worrying so much. You have already accepted your new identity as a member of the Vanished Fleet, haven’t you? And this is not your first time meeting that ship.”

“That is true, but I am still nervous,” Lawrence sighed and straightened his collar without thinking. “Besides, my last meeting with that ship is not worth remembering at all. That scene would be a nightmare for any captain.”

“Look at it this way: at least this time the Vanished will not sail straight toward you and ram you aga—”

A harsh creaking sound suddenly broke in, making Lawrence’s teeth hurt.

In the next second, Lawrence saw layers of ghostly green flame appear out of thin air around the White Oak. At the same time came the deafening roar of the engines and a violent lurch as the helm suddenly turned.

In the blink of an eye, the once calm sea changed completely. On the blue surface, countless terrifying black shadows rose up like strands of hair. The sunlight in the sky dimmed and turned unreal. Thick clouds and mist fell from above like a collapsing curtain, and the whole sea was stained black by those “hair-like” corruptions.

The mummified corpse hanging from the mast almost started screaming at once.

In the corpse’s shrill screams and the sailors’ shouts, Lawrence realized that the White Oak had been dragged into the Spirit Realm by some powerful force. With a heart-shaking roar and a sudden rise of waves ahead, a towering ship burning with fierce flames burst out of the dense fog!

The Vanished had appeared.

Like a burning cliff, it came crashing down toward them, filling the sky.

Anomaly 077’s screams almost shook the whole sea: “It’s going to hit us, it’s going to hit us! Damn it, it really is going to hit us again! I’m done! I want to go home! Let me down! I want to go home! Aaaah—”

Then, right in the middle of the corpse’s shrill cry and the sailors’ panic, the bow of the Vanished suddenly stopped.

It stopped less than half a meter from the starboard bow of the White Oak, in a way that made no sense at all.

Lawrence stood there at the prow, stunned. After a long moment, his eyes finally moved. He slowly tilted his head back and looked up at the ghost ship towering above him in the blazing flames.

The nightmare scene in his memory overlapped with reality in the Mortal Realm. He had once again come to this position and once again saw this doomsday view.

The Vanished had come.

A tall figure appeared in his sight. Duncan Abnomar, the eternal Master of the Vanished, stood high at the ship’s rail, looking down at them.

This was the second time Lawrence had faced this legendary being.

Then he heard Duncan speak. The deep voice rolled like solemn thunder across the sea:

“Lawrence, what in the world is all that racket on your ship?”