Ashes Of Deep Sea Chapter 749

Chapter 749: Chapter 746: A Passing Illusion Chapter 749: Chapter 746: A Passing Illusion The shooting star that had been moving backward gradually disappeared from view.

On the vast coastline, only the figures of Tirian, Aiden, and Agatha remained.

The ancient “Lost Star” still quietly hovered above the sand, its surface flowing leisurely, emitting an intermittent, whimpering howl, while just a few meters away lay the calm sea–the water shimmering under the pale golden sunlight like a slowly undulating mirror, its tiny waves much calmer than usual.

In this prolonged dusk, Tirian finally broke the silence, “Gatekeeper, do you think if the sun truly disintegrates, the Church's power will still be sufficient to maintain order among the City-States?”

Agatha did not speak. Faced with this overly sharp question, she remained silent for a long time–but had it been a year earlier, she would have undoubtedly given a positive answer without hesitation.

Agatha knew that she was no longer as devout and resolute as before; a crack had formed in her unconditional faith during the Frost Mirror disaster, and doubts had seeped in.

But after hesitating, she lightly nodded, “I believe my brothers and sisters will do their utmost… They will as well.”

“The answer after careful thought is not as firm as a devotee's response, but in this situation, it's somewhat more reassuring,” Tirian sighed slowly, a slight smile appearing on his face, “Anyhow, we will all do our utmost, and I believe other City-States will do the same.”

Agatha did not speak, just silently nodded her head and then she turned, her figure dissolving into a swirling pale wind and disappeared with the breeze.

Aiden had been quietly watching by the side, and now he hesitated before speaking, “…What are your plans going forward?”

“First, ensure that the city hall makes all necessary preparations before sundown. I want every person in the City-State to safely get through the looming long night; second, command the fleet to be fully operational. I need every warship at its best, ready for battle at any moment, no matter how long the night may last; third…”
Tirian paused for a few seconds, looking down at the bag in his hand.

“Third, tell everyone to eat if it's time to eat, sleep if it's time to sleep, to keep living well–ten thousand years ago, the builders crafted the City-States from the ruins of the ancient kingdoms during the dark ages after their collapse. We too will certainly find a way through this crisis… The end is not here yet.”

“Yes, Captain!”

A flame streaked across the sunset, leaving a fleeting bright trail among the clouds before it fell on the path in front of the cemetery where the Spectral Flame gradually dispersed, and Duncan's figure solidified from the flames.

Alice had already returned to Homeloss, while Duncan walked back to the cemetery alone–he slowly ascended the path he had walked many times before; in the slanted and dim evening twilight, his shadow stretched long, wavering on the ancient stone pavement.

It was very quiet around, most of the city's inhabitants should have returned home by now, and almost no vehicles could be seen on the distant roads, only a few steam-powered walkers leisurely strolling through the streets, city hall workers checking street lamps and gas lines, and the black-clothed guards confirming the status of “Nightfall Shelters,” looking bustling.

Duncan withdrew his gaze from afar and continued to ascend slowly.

He stopped in front of the cemetery gate.

An unexpected yet familiar figure stood outside the gate–a girl about thirteen or fourteen years old, dressed in light gray heavy winter clothing, wearing a fuzzy woolen hat and gloves, wrapped up like a soft wool ball. She stood at the gate, occasionally stamping her feet, pacing back and forth, then looking up the path.

It was Annie. She seemed to have been waiting there for quite a while.

Duncan frowned slightly and hastened towards the cemetery gate–Annie saw him too, a delighted expression appearing on the young girl's face as she quickly ran down the path.

“Guardian Uncle!” Annie cheerfully greeted, stopping at the edge of the open space outside the cemetery gate, “I just came over and saw no one in the guard's cottage, and the black-clothed guard said you were out…”
“Curfew is about to start, the city hall has informed all residents to go home. Why did you still come here?” Duncan frowned, his voice low and stern under his bandages, sounding somewhat scary, “It's unsafe outside.”

“I know, I was just about to head home,” Annie immediately nodded, not frightened by Duncan's somber and serious demeanor clad in black and wrapped in bandages. Instead, she reached into her coat, rummaged, and handed a small packet to Duncan, “This is herbal tea… Take it, and then… I might not come back for a long time.”

Duncan looked surprised at the paper package handed over by Annie, and after a few seconds of silence, he softened his tone, “Do you know what's going to happen?”

“…Something is wrong with the sun, right?” Annie looked up, gazing into Duncan's somber, sunken eyes, “The sunset has lasted for a very long time now and still hasn't completely set… I heard from a nun that if the sunset this time goes down, it might be a very long time before it rises again… Mom says that the temperature may keep dropping, or it might stop after dropping halfway, and the worst case has to do with the farms…”
She stopped there, seemingly finding the knowledge beyond that point too complex to understand or recount.

Duncan was silent for a moment, then bent slightly, “Are you afraid?”

Anne shook her head, but then stopped and hesitated, nodding cautiously.

She didn't really understand what was happening now, nor could she imagine what would happen next–compared to the straightforward threat of the mud monsters spreading through the city, a slowly sinking sun was an even more incomprehensible disaster for a thirteen-year-old child.

But she could sense that same tense pressure among the adults, similar to the early “Mirror Disaster”–she had experienced it once before.

“If the sun doesn't come up, will we have to carry lanterns and tattoo runes on our eyelids to go outside?” Anne asked, “Like those ascetic monks–who always linger in darkness…”

Duncan didn't know how to answer this question at first, pondering for a long time before softly speaking, “…The sun will rise, if the sun doesn't rise, something else will light up the sky.”

Anne didn't seem to understand, but then seemed to think of something and widened her eyes in surprise, “Is it you? Will you light up the sky?”

“…Go home,” Duncan smiled, though his smile was covered by layers of bandages, revealing only a slight curve at the corners of his eyes. He brushed off some dust from Anne's clothes that had settled there at some point while looking up at the fading twilight on the roofs in the distance, “It's getting dark–also, thank you for the herbal tea.”

“Yes!”

It was getting dark–although it might still be some time.

Outside the antique shop window, the remnants of the sunset were already fading–but had not completely darkened yet.

Duncan shifted his gaze from watching Anne leave at the slope in front of the northern cemetery and looked through the old shop window at the streets of Plunder at evening.

The streets were already deserted, even the noisiest children had been taken home by adults, the alleys of the Lower City District, usually too crowded and lively, now seemed cold and deserted, as if it had become a ghost city.

But then a steam walker broke the silence outside the window–with the clattering sound of the steam engine running, the massive spider machine slowly crossed the street, steam hissing from the exhaust of the walker's tail, banners of scripture fluttering from its armor plates in the wind, two guards dressed in Deep Sea Church uniforms stood on the back of the walker, announcing the newly issued “Nightfall Notice” from the cathedral–including new curfew orders, and adjustments to the city's functions during the night period.

Even after the Black Sun incident brought a safe dusk, an air of tension still lingered over the Plunder City-State.

For no one knew whether the “safe dusk” would continue to be safe after the night stretched into days, nor did anyone know what else might breed in the dark sea under a prolonged absence of sunlight, crawling up the beaches to invade the City-State under cover of darkness.

If even Plunder was charged with this atmosphere, what might be happening in other City-States on the Endless Sea?

In the increasingly dim sunset, Duncan's thoughts began to drift; he set aside the newspaper in his hand and prepared to rise and turn on the light near the staircase.

Just then, a figure appeared in the corner of his eye.

Right there by a shelf in the corner on the first floor of the antique shop, the figure suddenly emerged–as if he were a stooped traveler, on a journey so long he no longer knew how much time had passed, clothed in a tattered white robe that no longer retained its original form, his body slightly leaning forward, he walked step by step toward the counter.

Duncan slowly stood up and stared fixedly at the figure approaching him.

However, the figure seemed not to see Duncan, walking as though in another parallel dimension, his gaze focused on a distant and invisible place, he walked straight through the shelf, like a ghost slowly moving forward.

During this process, Duncan gradually made out the traveler's face–he saw an aged face, deep wrinkles, and skin that seemed almost wilted like frozen time, but suddenly, that aged face regained its youth, transforming into the appearance of a young man at the start of a journey, even his stooped posture became upright.

The next second, he turned into an old man again, his figure passing through the counter, about to brush past Duncan.

But abruptly, he stopped.

He seemed to see Duncan–or perhaps just saw an illusionary figure, he froze stiffly, his eyes bulging, staring straight over here.

Duncan found himself unable to discern any definitive emotion from that trembling face–was it surprise? fear? despair? or had he suddenly seen hope?

As if all the emotions a person could possess were compressed in that brief gaze–the weary traveler just stared intently at him, and then his figure gradually faded.

Chapter end

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