Ashes Of Deep Sea Chapter 671

Chapter 671: Chapter 668: Contained in the Starlight Chapter 671: Chapter 668: Contained in the Starlight In the many reflections cast in the chaotic, solitary eye of the King of the Pale Giants, there was one empty spot–was it coincidence, or a deliberate act by the ancient kings?

Duncan only knew that when he came to the ship's side and carefully observed the massive eye, he just happened to stand in front of that empty space–his reflection appeared there, and it was only after he recognized the other indescribable figures from the murky haze settling on the surface of the giant eye that he realized this.

Perhaps it was indeed just a coincidence–he wished to tell himself so, but in Subspace, before the carcass of an ancient deity, he did not believe in the existence of such coincidences.

Duncan frowned and cautiously, inch by inch, began to retreat as if fearful of awakening something in this place.

The deceased King of the Pale Giants, and the reflections of the kings in that lone eye–Duncan always felt as if these beings were silently watching him, observing every move he made, as if casting a distant gaze from the long river of years.

During his careful and slow retreat, he left the front of the eye.

But in the next moment, he saw his reflection emerge again, once more silently mirrored in that eye, among the kings.

Duncan's eyes widened slightly, his heart felt as if it had skipped a beat, and then, an even more startling sight unfolded:
The reflection he left in the giant's eye was gradually changing.

The vague figure wearing a captain's uniform and a dark, triangular hat, tall and authoritative, began to tremor and transform, as if some illusion was fading. This figure swiftly took on another form–an individual clothed in a white shirt and black pants, not particularly robust, with a face too blurred to recognize as “human.”

That was “Zhou Ming.”

Zhou Ming stood motionless on the deck, like a statue, staring intensely at the murky giant eye a mere arm's length from the ship's side, staring at the “self” reflected in that eye.

After an unknowable amount of time, he finally stepped forward, once more approaching the giant eye–separated by a layer of murky haze congealed on the surface of the eyeball, he looked at his murky reflection and slowly reached out his hand.

He knew he was venturing into danger, making a horrifying attempt in this eerie and perilous Subspace–but in the end, his fingers touched the surface of that eyeball.

A sensation of “nothingness” transpired from his fingertips, and in just an instant, Zhou Ming understood the “nothingness” that Lucresia had previously described to him, the sensation felt when touching that cylindrical shadow at the border.

He was certain he had touched something, but he felt no temperature, no hardness–fragmented and strange “sensations” came from his fingertips, leaving him momentarily dumbfounded.

In the next moment, Zhou Ming saw his reflection in the eyeball change abruptly–the “human” dressed in a white shirt disintegrated like an unstable illusion, each part of the image's colors faded and dissolved in the blink of an eye. Amid the fading colors, innumerable points of light surged forth!

A brilliant starlight replaced the swiftly vanishing figure and spread into the surrounding darkness. In the first second, they maintained the blurred tormented human contour, as if brimming and spilling over from the edges of that human form, the starlight flowed like a river of stars covering the entire eyeball in almost a blink and then continued to spill over, surging upward–the starlight finally overflowed the eyeball, spreading out from its surface!

The light flowed like a river, touching Zhou Ming's fingertips, and at the moment of “contact,” Zhou Ming heard a thunderous roar in his mind!

It was a multitude of overlapping booms, a “tremor” of vast amounts of information compressed into an instant, a staggering data set sufficient to explain the whole world's operations, an entrance, a door, and the billions of admonitions and thoughts of vast multitudes. In that transient moment that may have only lasted a Planck time, an eternal instant, Zhou Ming felt as if he were being torn apart, his consciousness fluctuating in this roar, struggling to discern the overlapped voices in the boom–he felt as if he was about to comprehend the meaning of those sounds, and many fragmented pieces flooded into his brain, resounding in his reason–
“…We are humans… we stand now at the terminal of all things.”

In the midst of that roar, amid those myriad fragments, one voice thus spoke.

Zhou Ming's eyes suddenly widened.

“…We have almost untangled all mysteries…

“…The laws of the stars… the fluctuations of time and space, information…

“Until we discovered that the end of time is destruction… an event beyond our cognitive model… occurring outside our universe…

“Moving forward in time is now pointless… within a limited model… the odds of resolving this event are zero… we decided to send #*#%Y=@ backwards to…

“…We… name… 'Reverse Singularity'… in our calculations… following the occurrence of this event, the only fragment of time that can remain intact is 0.002 seconds…

“You are Zhou Ming, from the old calendar timestamp 2022-07-10-07-10-00-000… to 2022-07-10-07-10-00-002 the end…

“Now is 41765-12c-32-15b, all things have concluded before our eyes.

“Good luck to you.

“Good luck to them.

“May we…”

“Boom–”
Zhou Ming felt as if he had suddenly stopped from an eternal fall, breaking free from some moment frozen in time. The deafening roars that had stacked upon each other faded to a distant, blurry impression in his mind. The rational part of him that belonged to “humans” momentarily returned, and in that brief, fragile rationality, he abruptly recoiled.

But the brilliant starlight had already dissipated without a trace.

The light that had spilled from the giant's lone eye was gone, and the reflections on the surface of the eye vanished–not only the reflections of “Duncan,” “Zhou Ming,” and the “Starlight Giant” but also those figures that once stood in the darkness, symbolizing ancient kings.

The “shadows” that had condensed in this eye over a hundred centuries seemed to have been “cleansed” in the roaring moment just past. They were replaced by a murky haze, suggesting death, with no distinguishable information left.

Clearly, this eyeball was merely some kind of “carrier of information,” and now, after a vigorous release and washing of information, everything that had condensed on its surface had been thoroughly removed.

Surrounding him was silence, devoid of noise and roaring sounds; subspace seemed to return to its eternal stillness, while aboard the shattered deck of Homeloss, all was quiet.

However, the fragmented “pieces” that had emerged in the roaring moment still hovered in Zhou Ming's consciousness, like a relentless hurricane roaring through his reason and thoughts, again and again. It took a long while for this “hurricane” to subside and become a profound impression and memory, permanently embedded in his mind.

Zhou Ming took a few steps back, lifted his hand to his forehead, panting, as his wildly beating heart gradually calmed.

His capacity for thought returned to him.

Zhou Ming stood for a long time in the dim chaos of subspace, letting its meaningless time trickle away. He pondered in this everlasting silence until, after an indeterminate period, he finally moved again.

He lifted his head, gazing into the darkness beyond.

The boundless subspace swallowed his gaze.

In that limitless darkness, surely hid countless secrets–but he was tired.

The “boom” had nearly drained his strength. He no longer had the energy to steer the Ghost Ship to challenge the endless dark.

“It's time to go back.”

Zhou Ming muttered softly, taking steps toward the captain's cabin door. He remembered the way to return from subspace to the real world: simply push open the “Door of the Displaced,” step into another dark space, and then open the door once more from within that dark space to return to the real dimension.

As he placed his hand on the doorknob of the “Door of the Displaced,” he paused, then turned to glance back at the infinite chaos.

He knew he would eventually return.

Without hesitation, he completed the “double-door” operation smoothly and quickly.

When the familiar sound of waves entered his ears once more and the salty, cool night breeze brushed against his face, Duncan felt his heart settle again–he was back in the familiar real world.

Looking up, the cool light of Creation of the World cascaded from the sky onto the ocean. The feeble golden rays spreading from the distant sea intertwined with that light in the sky, outlining the unique, eerie yet enchanting nightscape near Light Breeze Harbor.

A slight creaking noise mixed with the nearby sound of the waves, along with the friction of the ropes automatically adjusting on the masts.

Everything he'd experienced in subspace seemed like a bizarre Dreamscape.

Duncan shook his head, knowing, of course, it wasn't a dreamscape–it was vital information, even the “truth” about his very essence.

But for now, he had to push these turbulent thoughts to the back of his mind–too much crucial information was missing, and idle speculation wouldn't lead to any conclusions.

Voices from the other side of the door, in the captain's cabin–it was his familiar “First Mate.”

“…I've finished telling about the customs of the northern seas, let me tell you about the central seas. I'm an experienced sailor, and the City-States of the central seas…”

A smile involuntarily formed on his face. Duncan felt his heart relax a little more. Then he took a deep breath and opened the door to the captain's cabin.

At the edge of the navigation table, the talking goat head that had been incessantly chatting with another skull immediately stopped and turned to look at the captain standing in the doorway.

“Duncan Ebnomal,” Duncan preemptively said, before the creature could ask.

The goat head paused, then its tone turned cheerful: “Ah! The captain's back!”

Chapter end

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