Ashes Of Deep Sea Chapter 742

Chapter 742: Chapter 739: Figures Before the Apocalypse Chapter 742: Chapter 739: Figures Before the Apocalypse No words could describe the shock that Zhou Ming experienced at that moment.

The knock at the door wasn't loud–the kind of noise that under normal circumstances wouldn't be out of place–but when it sounded in his bachelor apartment, each knock seemed to resound like a thunderous roar as if a hefty hammer was striking Zhou Ming's ears!

His eyes widened in an instant, almost convinced it was a hallucination brought on by a string of events and disappointments. But then he snapped back to reality, realizing that the knocking was very much real–and it was continuing without pause.

He rushed to the door like a gust of wind, his hand reaching for the doorknob, but as he was about to turn it, he hesitated for two seconds.

Was it really safe to open the door? Could doing so blindly lead him into a trap?

If it had been in the first days of his confinement in this room, he wouldn't have had such worries; back then, he simply thought the dense fog was some kind of peculiar “phenomenon” and still firmly believed that beyond the fog lay the home he knew so well. Now, however, Zhou Ming was aware of what had happened to his world–his hometown had long since turned to dust, and the only thing left in the entire universe was his little abode, with nothing beyond the boundless fog but the ashes of the Annihilation of All Things.

After the world's demise, who would come knocking at his door?

No matter how he thought about it, it was unlikely to be a normal “living person.”

Zhou Ming weighed his options cautiously as the knocks persisted with patient repetition, every three to five seconds, neither hurried nor avoiding to display the knocker's patience and persistence, as if a polite yet obstinate visitor was determined to pay a visit.

…Opening the door might be a trap, but not opening it meant possibly missing out on this “visit”–whoever was outside, this was an unprecedented event that he had to investigate.

Countless thoughts flashed through Zhou Ming's mind until he finally took a slight breath, set his resolve, and placed one hand on the doorknob while the other brushed lightly over the doorframe.

A semi-translucent illusory flame spread over the doorframe, forming a hazy protective barrier of scorching mist.

After making his precautions and staying on full alert, he gripped the doorknob firmly, then swiftly turned it and yanked the door open with great speed.

Outside, there was no one, only the undulating, expanding, and contracting black fog, as always.

Zhou Ming took deep, labored breaths, feeling his heart pounding as he stared into the empty expanse of black fog, unable to snap back to reality for a long time.

Had he still been too late to open the door? Had the knocking visitor lost patience? Could it really be such a coincidence that the visitor left just as he opened the door?

Frowning, Zhou Ming was certain that the knocking persisted right up until he opened the door. Even if the person had lost patience, they shouldn't have disappeared in an instant.

As he pondered, suddenly, a noise interrupted his thoughts.

It was the knocking–once again, the sound reached his ears.

Zhou Ming's eyes widened, fixating on the swirling black fog in front of him, and he realized–the knocks were actually coming from within the fog.

The sound seemed so close, as if just beyond the veil of fog, touchable if he reached out. But no matter how wide he opened his eyes, Zhou Ming couldn't see anything through the fog, and when his hand ventured into its depths, all he felt was an empty, icy chill–there was nothing there.

Yet the knocking continued, still patient as ever.

Zhou Ming slowly withdrew his hand from the black fog, standing quietly at the doorway, listening to the incessant knocks that seemed like they'd never end, while calming the storm in his mind.

There was a visitor, on the other side of the black fog, attempting to gain entry to this “cottage,” but they were blocked by the outer shell of this “cocoon.”

After a long, silent contemplation, Zhou Ming suddenly lifted his head, struck by an idea, and quickly ran to his desk.

He hurriedly gathered a few items–whiteboard markers, paper, a soft tape measure, a ball of string, and many other bits and bobs, stuffing them all into a plastic bag and carrying it to the door.

Then he found a note and scribbled a message in Endless Sea's common tongue: “I heard you, who are you?”

He affixed the note to the mouth of the plastic bag and without hesitation tossed the bag into the twisting black fog.

The plastic bag, filled with miscellaneous items, was engulfed by the writhing mist in the blink of an eye, vanishing into the dark abyss.

Zhou Ming stared in the direction where the bag disappeared, his breath unconsciously slowed down considerably–he had never waited so tensely for something to happen, not even when the great fire flared up in Prand.

The knocking stopped. Just one second after the bag crossed into the fog, the knocks abruptly ceased.

Clearly, the “visitor” on the other side of the mist had received the “gift” he sent and had reacted to it–but then Zhou Ming waited a long time without any further response.

Except for the cessation of knocking, no more information came through.

Until the very end.

The goat-headed figure on the navigation table suddenly sensed something and began to squeak and creak as it turned its neck toward the captain's quarters–a tall, authoritative figure opened the door and walked in, with a slightly heavy step.

“Name?”

“Duncan Ebnomal.”

Duncan slowly made his way to the chart table, sat down in the high-backed chair, and took a deep breath as if to expel all his exhaustion and chaotic thoughts with that single murky exhale.

The goat-headed figure instantly perceived the captain's state; it had already been brewing a nearly five-minute-long aria with which to greet the captain and incidentally discuss the unique climate of the boundary environment. At this moment, all that was suddenly suppressed, and after a moment of hesitation, it cautiously spoke up, “You… Are you alright? You seem to be in a bad mood?”

Duncan glanced at the goat head and said offhand, “Someone knocked on the door and stood me up.”

The goat head pondered for a moment, “…Does this have anything to do with Ai Yi?”

Duncan waved his hand, long accustomed to this incongruous situation.

“It seems unrelated to Ai Yi,” the goat head was even more used to it, quickly adjusting its mood and switching the topic after realizing the captain didn't want to elaborate, “We're about to pass through the thick fog of the Eternal Veil, Captain. Are we heading straight back to Light Breeze Harbor afterward, or do you have other plans?”

“…Back to Light Breeze Harbor. I need to organize my thoughts during this time and also discuss some matters with those ecclesiastics–they should all be staying in the City-State for now.”

“Understood, Captain,” promptly responded the goat head. It then opened its mouth, obviously hesitating before continuing, “Additionally, what do you make of the situation reported by Fenna and Morris?”

“You mean those 'figures' they saw before evacuating Holy Land Island?”

“Yes,” said the goat head, “cloaked in tattered robes, resembling phantoms of Doomsday Preachers, but they made no contact with anyone, as if existing independently in another dimension of time and space… This doesn't seem quite like the Doomsday Preachers we know of in the past, appearing on Holy Land Island… It all strikes me as unusual.”

Duncan pondered for a moment, then casually pulled out a palm-sized photograph and laid it on the chart table for a closer examination.

This was something Morris had given him during a meeting in the cabin– the only piece of evidence gathered by the old scholar when those suspicious figures had suddenly emerged on Holy Land Island.

The image on the photograph was not very clear, a fine pattern of stripes covered the image like some interference or veil, but one could still make out the large black door deep within the cave, alongside the blurry white figure next to the door.

The white figure draped in a tattered robe had indistinct features, blurred into a mass; one could only discern from its posture and position that it seemed to be carefully observing something–the black door, or something behind it.

“…The Doomsday Preachers that used to appear before people were either madmen who had lost their minds, babbling incessantly about their apocalyptic theories, or still lucid scholars, attempting to convey messages to the witnesses or to guide certain events,” the goat head murmured beside him, “This is the first time such phantoms that do not interact with people have appeared, as though they're each preoccupied with their own matters, completely oblivious to the bustling scene nearby, as if…”

Duncan spoke softly, “As if hurried travelers, mid-journey on their trek.”

The goat head was taken aback, “You mean to say…”

“Just a sudden association,” Duncan lifted his head, “They seem immersed in their work, showing no reaction to their surrounding environment, perhaps… what we're seeing is a Doomsday survey team traversing and observing within the stream of time–their appearance 'on the road.'”
The goat head opened its mouth, “…So you're saying, the phantoms that Fenna and Morris saw are the echoes left by those Cretans as they travel through time? But there have never been such sightings before…”

“Maybe it has to do with the special environment of the boundary, or perhaps…”

Duncan paused, fell silent for a moment, then shook his head.

“Or perhaps it's another omen.”

The goat head didn't catch on immediately, “Another omen?”

“The Doomsday survey team that set out during the Deep Sea Era once reached 'the end of time,' which is the final moment of the Shelter,” Duncan said calmly, looking into the goat head's eyes, “That also means…”

He didn't finish speaking, but the goat head had already caught on, “That is to say, we will see them at the end of time, the apocalypse, the only moment when our time streams truly converge…”

Duncan didn't speak, just quietly stared at the photograph on the chart table, at the vague figure standing next to the black door, seemingly observing something carefully.

It might have been an illusion, but he felt that the vague figure seemed to grow a bit clearer.

Chapter end

Report