Ashes Of Deep Sea Chapter 450

Chapter 450: Chapter 451: The History in the Mist and the Mist in History Chapter 450: Chapter 451: The History in the Mist and the Mist in History The team continued forward through the darkness, the ethereal Spiritual Fire forming a path, sketching the traces left behind by previous expeditions deep into this cave. Their lanterns and the light of the Spiritual Fire were barely enough to distinguish the surrounding environment.

And along this way, what Duncan and his companions saw the most was boiling gold.

High-purity boiling gold formed the terrain of this cave at every turn, dense rock layers stacking into a sturdy spherical shell structure, with a vast array of loose ore scattered at the bottom of the pit, their quantity beyond estimation.

These ores were the foundation of modern industry, the lifeblood of Frost–they appeared here, only serving to make the atmosphere grow even stranger.

But Duncan didn't care about this eerie atmosphere–he was a pragmatic man. Whether or not this was the work of ancient gods was a secondary concern; boiling gold was good as long as it could be used, even if it truly was a “product” of the Mysterious Deep Sea's The Saint, he didn't mind using it.

In fact, it could be said that if he were the Governor of the City-State, the only thing he would be thinking about now would probably be the feasibility of opening a branch mine in the Mysterious Deep Sea and devising a sustainable mining plan for The Saint.

However, he didn't voice these thoughts.

After all, for someone like Agatha, a commoner, this kind of development concept might be a bit extreme.

Duncan's mind raced with various thoughts, but just then, a vague shadow at the edge of his vision brought him to a sudden halt.

Others stopped in their tracks as well. Morris seemed to have seen something and, while lifting his lantern to illuminate the surroundings, said, “There seems to be something up ahead.”

Within the limited light cast by their lanterns and the Spiritual Fire, the boundless darkness of the cave faintly revealed a massive shadow. It appeared to be a column or the trunk of a towering tree standing in the distance, with its upper half vaguely spreading out, resembling branches that stretched into the darkness.

Even with an unclear view, just from that hazy silhouette, Agatha could sense the immensity of the object–it was like a column capable of supporting an entire mountain, its oppressive presence unceasingly emanating even across a vast distance.

Fenna clenched her massive sword and reminded everyone, “Proceed with caution.”

The group continued onward through the dark and, as they drew closer, the shadowy outline became progressively clearer to everyone.

A huge pillar, like the spire of a cathedral, stood at the center of an enormous cavern, striking a heart-stirring pose in the light of the lanterns!

“The Eye of Wisdom…”

Morris uttered an exclamation involuntarily, his lantern trembling in his hand. His eyes widened as he observed the pillar, noting its black skin, rough and bumpy, looking like some deep-sea creature's tentacle magnified countless times. Its lower half was buried deep in the ground, surrounded by numerous wrinkled, shattered rocks, as though it had grown from beneath the City-State, defiantly piercing through the island's foundation. The upper portion extended into the endless darkness above and, in that darkness, branched off into several small, dim forks, like an eerie giant tree weaving its way through the unknown depths, then coming to a silent end.

The scale was so vast that the lantern light was powerless to illuminate the whole pillar–it was even difficult to brighten even a small part of its face. Morris could only see the rough surface that the lantern's light reached, while the larger and more hazy structures were lit by the surrounding, flickering green fire. As for those parts the green fire couldn't illuminate… he had to rely on his imagination to discern what he could in the exceedingly vague shadows.

The sight deeply impressed even the normally inattentive puppet mistress.

Alice tilted her head back and then hugged it with both hands and yanked it down forcefully. With a “pop,” she pulled off her head and held it high, straining to see but still unable to discern clearly. She tossed it upward repeatedly–after several throws, she groped around to push her head back onto her neck and continued to gaze upward in awe: “Wow…”

Fenna turned to look at Alice: “…Wow.”

“What is this thing?” All of Morris's attention was on the magnificent yet frightening pillar. He couldn't help but step forward, carefully touching its pitted, uneven surface–a cold, rough sensation, like rock, transmitted to his fingertips, “It feels like stone to the touch, but it looks like some kind of…”

“Some kind of colossal limb,” Duncan suggested, tilting his head to see the upper part of the pillar. After a few seconds, he spoke softly, “It seems to be what's supporting this entire cave.”

“So this is the real reason why the cave hasn't collapsed…” Morris murmured to himself, moving closer to examine the surface of the pillar under the light, “Judging by the texture, it also looks a bit like boiling gold ore, but it's not quite like any ore described in the books… It seems to have impurities mixed in.”

“Wild guess, maybe this is a part of The Saint's body,” Duncan said offhandedly, “It extended into the City-State and was then burnt into stone here.”

The area went quiet instantly, and it took several seconds before Fenna broke the silence with a twitch of her mouth, “That sounds a bit frightening…”

“Frightening, but very possible–I only said 'maybe' earlier to spare your feelings,” Duncan shook his head, “Don't forget, my fire once spread to here. Although the situation was chaotic and I didn't have time to notice in detail, I remember… whatever is here, it is highly fire-resistant.”

As he spoke, he stepped forward and extended his hand to touch the rough, rock-like surface of the enormous pillar.

On the other side, Agatha groped her way to the vicinity of the “gigantic pillar.”

In her “vision,” everything was still trembling, disrupted by some resonating force. The vast and empty cave presented itself to her as a place filled with chaotic ripples. But even amidst this boundless interference, she clearly “saw” the “pillar” before her.

A faint attraction drew her closer.

Agatha reached out cautiously, her hand brushing against the pillar. Her fingers moved across its cold surface as if flipping through a book carved from stone, reading the memories left within the rocks…

A set of indentations caught her attention.

She touched them, tracing their contours in her mind, placing her palm against them. She found that each of her fingers fit perfectly into the grooves.

They were handprints.

After a moment of bewilderment, she extended her other hand and, following a seemingly unfounded guidance in her mind, she found another handprint.

In the handprints, there seemed to linger some fine ash.

Agatha suddenly stopped, instinctively wanting to turn and tell Duncan about her discovery, but in the next second, many intricate shadows and lights began to emerge in her dark, chaotic field of view.

Memories surfaced in her heart, thin yet real emotions intermingled with them, and a flood of information entered her mind–as if it had been slumbering there all along, as if it was her own experience that violently awoke in the depths of her heart the moment she touched the two handprints!

In the darkness of exploration… crossing echoes with Governor Winston… the true nature of the Deep Abyss project… preparations of the past Governors… the ancient gods that invaded the City-State, their thoughts that wavered between illusion and reality, and…

This is a counterfeit.

“Ah–”
Agatha suddenly let out a soft cry, then almost stumbled and fell.

But a hand reached out from beside her and steadied her in time, with Duncan's voice following in the darkness, “What's wrong?”

Agatha was disoriented for a moment before regaining her clarity. She then realized the new fragments of information added to her mind. She quickly steadied herself, her words rushing out, “I came into contact with some memories… They're 'hers'!”

“'Hers'?” Duncan frowned, immediately grasping the significance in her words, “That replication? Her memories linger here?”

“Yes, listen, it's important–she met Governor Winston here, learned the truth about the Deep Abyss project…”

Agatha spoke hurriedly, as if afraid she would forget those memories that had just flooded her mind, rapidly spilling out everything she had just seen and heard, without caring whether the others around her had time to react, from the last words of a Governor to the root of the Frost Queen's obsession of yesteryear, and lastly, the most powerful idea–“She” before vanishing, the most persistent thought she left behind.

The crucial message “she” wanted to pass on–the “ancient god” that invaded the Frost City-State was counterfeit.

It was the replication of the Mysterious Deep Sea Saint.

Everyone fell silent, no one interrupted Agatha no matter how bizarre and thrilling the content was.

Until Agatha finished the last word, and the place went silent again for a dozen seconds, Morris was the first to break the silence.

“…The fog within history, and the enigma within the annals…”

The elder scholar couldn't help but lament in such a manner.

Meanwhile, on the side, Duncan's gaze had already fallen on the enormous “pillar.”

His expression was more somber than ever before.

Chapter end

Report