Ashes Of Deep Sea Chapter 412

Chapter 412: Chapter 416: The Governor's Whereabouts Chapter 412: Chapter 416: The Governor's Whereabouts The deepest mines of the Frost mountain had already run dry decades ago, yet the “blood” that the City-State relied on for its survival could merely be the result of some twisted outcome. Buried deep at the bottom of the boiling gold mine was a door left by the first municipal government, and the current municipal government and Governor might also be participants and maintainers of this secret–
Even the well-trained and highly disciplined guards, who often dealt with all sorts of dangerous and bizarre creatures, couldn't help falling into silence and astonishment upon hearing these pieces of news.

In their astonishment, they also understood why this operation had been categorized as secret and why the gatekeeper had waited until everyone had descended the mine to disclose the specifics of the situation.

Such news, even without considering the threats posed by the “Transcendent” phenomena behind it, merely the truth of the “mines running dry” alone was enough to stir up a storm in the City-State!

“We cannot yet confirm if all the mines were depleted decades ago, nor can we confirm what has been transported out of this mine under the circumstances of the mines being depleted–the only certainty is that if all this is indeed the result of some 'pollution' and the anomalies in the City-State are related to this pollution, then we are now at the pollution's origin and its deepest point.”

Agatha's gaze swept over her subordinates, her tone as calm and composed as ever.

“I believe everyone is aware of the current situation on the surface, and I know you've wondered why at such a crucial juncture, an elite squad is dispatched here to investigate some mine tunnels–I share your concerns for the brethren combating monsters in the fog and the battles on the surrounding seas.

“However, we are also in battle right now– to thoroughly investigate the situation in this mine is to assist our comrades elsewhere to the best of our capability, to root out the crisis at its source, which is better than the endless depletion against those creatures in the thick fog.

“That is the situation, does anyone have questions?”

She looked around and saw the same calm and steadfast expressions on her subordinates' faces, so she lightly nodded her head.

“Alright, then let's begin our mission. Our objective is the deepest mining layer. Along the way, pay attention to the dark environment, and constantly check the ventilation and lighting equipment. Each person has received a set of mine rescue devices when coming down–put on your masks now and open the external circulation valves–remember how to use them, right? In any event, rotate the valve clockwise to the internal circulation and pull out the rescue device pin while quickly retreating to the main tunnel, prioritizing your own safety.”

The guards, priests, and nuns immediately executed the command, putting on the respiratory masks over their mouth and nose, checking the condition of the connecting tubes and circulation valves, and securing the special underground lanterns to clips on their chests to avoid hindering their movements.

Agatha, however, didn't wear a mask–being a gatekeeper of the god of death, her constitution was already quite different from that of ordinary humans, especially in terms of “breathing,” ordinary toxic gases and suffocating environments wouldn't affect her actions.

While her subordinates were preparing to set off, a faint hissing sound suddenly entered Agatha's ears.

At first, she thought it was just the sound of the circulation valves as her subordinates breathed through their masks, but it quickly became apparent that the hissing was coming from someplace further away–outside the crowd, in the shadows where light couldn't reach.

“Be alert!” Agatha instantly reacted and alerted them, and in the next second, a few other guards also noticed the sound of air leaking from valves in the dark, and several beams of light aimed in that direction at once.

In the swirling mist entangled with the light, Agatha saw a figure emerge from the dark corner–a figure wearing a thick black coat, a gas mask, and seemingly carrying firearms.

The figure was lying amidst a pile of miscellaneous items, breathing with difficulty, the hissing sound coming from their gas mask.

Why would a person suddenly appear here? The guards had checked the whole transit point earlier, and it was impossible to miss such an obvious figure!

Questions arose in Agatha's mind, but without hesitation, she swiftly moved toward the figure that seemed on the verge of death, the guards following close behind her.

“…It's a City-State soldier,” one of the guards identified the fallen person's equipment in an instant, “from the Governor's personal guard.”

Agatha quickly scanned the soldier, noting that over his black thick coat, he was wearing a metal breastplate, and the power conduit connecting the breastplate and arm guards was broken. The military respiratory mask obscured almost all of his face, only his physique indicated he was a male soldier–his fatal injury appeared to be near his chest, seemingly having severely damaged his internal organs.

One of his arms was already severed, while his other hand was still tightly grasping a rifle.

Perhaps stimulated by the sudden appearance of light around him, the soldier with the breathing mask stirred upon Agatha's approach, as if he was struggling to lift his head.

The surrounding guards were startled, instinctively picking up their weapons, but Agatha gestured for them to stop, stepped forward, and bent down slightly.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“The Governor's Guard… Martin… Braid… Sergeant…”

“Sergeant Braid, why are you here?”

“Governor… Winston…” the soldier who claimed to be Sergeant Braid spoke hoarsely, the voice beneath the breathing mask growing increasingly strained. He mentioned the Governor's name, and struggled to lift his arm as if wanting to point somewhere, “Mr. Winston… entered a chamber… we need… support…”

He couldn't finish his sentence before that arm suddenly lost its strength, the last fading hiss coming from beneath the breathing mask.

He died, and in the second that life left him, Agatha saw foul black sludge slowly seeping out from his wounds and beneath the mask–his body rapidly disintegrated as if melting, emitting a skin-crawling, viscous slithering sound.

“A fake!”

The surrounding guardians immediately reacted, hastily retreating, while the accompanying priest stepped forward decisively, sprinkling a prepared mixture of powder onto the disintegrating corpse and hurling a pale fireball at it.

With a roar, the pale flame surged into the air, the fake's body consumed by fire in the blink of an eye. After the fierce and brief blaze, all that remained was a pile of dried, no longer writhing black sludge, and the lingering heat in the air.

Agatha watched the scene with a calm expression. She had suspected the figure that had just appeared might also be a Replication emerging from the thick fog, and now, she thoughtfully turned her head toward the direction that “Sergeant Braid” had pointed to with his dying gesture.

“In this direction, then…” she murmured softly.

“Gatekeeper Your Grace, that was merely a fake's deception,” the priest intervened upon hearing her murmur, stepping forward to warn, “It could be an enemy's trap.”

“But it didn't seem to know it was a fake,” Agatha shook her head gently, “Remember the intelligence we've had before? These 'fakes' appear to come in three varieties: one is oblivious, attacking all living beings, one seems to be controlled and organizes destruction within the city, and a third kind, as if retaining the original's memories and emotions, might not even realize they are counterfeit…”

The priest hesitated for a moment, his tone uncertain, “You mean…”

Agatha's gaze turned momentarily complex, a flicker of indecision that went unnoticed. After a brief pause, she spoke calmly, “This 'fake' was Replicated not long ago. It might retain memories from only a few hours ago, maybe even less–meanwhile, when we descended the mine, all messages from the city hall were being conveyed by the confidential secretary. Governor Winston seems to be missing.”

The priest quickly grasped her meaning.

“'Fakes' are counterfeit, but their memories are real,” he spoke rapidly, “Governor Winston might indeed have led a group of soldiers here not long ago, and among them, a Sergeant named Martin Braid died in the mining tunnels–this fog has Replicated the recently deceased Sergeant and his memories!”

“Perhaps that is the truth.”

Agatha nodded slightly and turned her gaze to the mine tunnel, dimly lit by hazy lamps.

No one knew exactly what lay deep within the mining layers, but Governor Winston was clearly privy to some truths unknown to others–now he had entered the depths of this mine with a squad of soldiers at the critical moment when the city-state was engulfed in supernatural phenomena, undoubtedly, the biggest clue might lie in this direction.

“Thank you for the guidance.”

Agatha turned her head and formally nodded to the pile of completely desiccated sludge that once resembled a human, then waved to her subordinates, “Follow me–we're going to find Governor Winston!”

Simultaneously, on the boundless ocean shrouded by a chaotic and dim sky, the Ghost Ship with its twin shadows flitted over the waves like the wind, weaving through countless, indistinct images of ships.

Lawrence stood at the prow of the White Oak, gazing down at the undulating sea below.

Amidst those rolling waves, he could now see the… reflection of the distant city-state.

Chapter end

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