Deep Sea Embers

Thud, thud, thud.

The quiet contemplation of the introspective man was suddenly interrupted by insistent knocking at the door. He had been deeply engrossed in observing a small strand of cotton, the delicate intricacy of which had momentarily captured his entire attention. But the persistent knocking redirected his focus. He immediately turned, looking towards the source of the sound.

Using his heightened senses, he tried to gauge the intention of the person on the other side. After a moment, he confidently made his way over and unlocked the door.

In the doorway stood a figure draped in a dark robe, the hood of which shrouded his face, leaving only his mouth and chin visible in the dim light. The man’s voice carried a clear tone of annoyance as he spoke, “What took you so long, Richard?”

“I don’t work on your whims, Dumont,” replied Richard, a hint of disdain evident in his voice. His eyebrows furrowed as he continued, “Just because the Saint favors you now doesn’t mean you can boss me around.”

Dumont, known to be an influential member of a group called the Annihilators, retorted with a nonchalant shrug, “Believe what you will, Richard. But your recent behavior has been noticeable. You’ve been overly cautious since you pulled back from the Dream of the Nameless One. The Saint has taken note. And while he hasn’t expressed any concerns yet, it would be unwise to attract unwanted attention.”

Interrupting Dumont, Richard’s temper flared as he stepped menacingly closer, his face inches from Dumont’s hooded face. He hissed, “Why don’t you dive into that Dream yourself? Then you’d know the horrors instead of just sitting here and passing judgment.”

Unruffled, Dumont took a deliberate step back, maintaining his composure, “That’s precisely what I plan to do. Tonight, I will be part of the chosen group to enter the Dream of the Nameless One alongside you.”

Richard’s anger subsided slightly, replaced by a mixture of surprise and apprehension, “Has the timeline changed? Is the Saint advancing our plan?”

Dumont nodded, “Your report on the disturbing occurrences within the Dream did not go unnoticed. The Saint believes that there’s a formidable adversary challenging us within that realm. Our supposed ‘allies’ have even confirmed skirmishes with this unknown foe.” He gestured in a placating manner, trying to calm Richard, “Put aside your skepticism and worries. We’re in this together, under the watchful eyes of the Nether Lord.”

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Richard replied more calmly, “May the Nether Lord guide us. My apologies for my earlier outburst.”

Dumont, showing a rare glimpse of empathy, responded, “It’s understandable. Your last missions were fraught with danger. Such traumatic experiences can take a toll.” His eyes shifted past Richard to a hazy figure in the room — a black, ethereal chain leading to a weakened death crow, which sat listlessly on a cabinet, “Considering your current state, perhaps you should take a short break. Missing a mission or two might not be a bad idea.”

“There’s no necessity,” Richard quickly interjected, dismissing the suggestion with a slight shake of his head. His gaze sharpened, reflecting a determination that betrayed his previous vulnerability. “The Nether Lord’s teachings empower me. Rest assured, I’ll be ready for tonight’s mission.”

Seeing Richard’s resolve, Dumont gave a nod of acknowledgment. “Very well. In that case, I’ll pass your message to the Saint. But ensure you’re prepared for tonight. Be at the assembly hall before dusk; the Saint has critical updates for all of us.”

Richard locked eyes with Dumont for a fleeting second, signaling his understanding with a nod. “I will be there.”

Dumont chose not to prolong the conversation. He took a step back, allowing the door to Richard’s quarters to close gently behind him. Only when he was sure he was out of Richard’s direct line of sight did Dumont allow a faint smile to play on his lips. He then resumed his journey down the ship’s dimly lit passageway.

From a concealed alcove, another figure emerged — a shorter man, his physique stocky and powerful, his identity hidden under a hood. He seamlessly joined Dumont’s side.

After walking side by side for a short while, Dumont finally broke the silence. “I’m deeply concerned about Richard. His symbiotic demon is deteriorating rapidly, and mentally, he seems on the edge. If he continues like this, the symbiotic bond they share might drag him to an early grave. Destiny seems intent on catching up with him.”

The shorter Annihilator responded in a subdued voice, “It’s the path he embraced. The Abyss will not forget his sacrifice. But we all have our time; we all eventually return to our beginning. What intrigues me, though, is why Richard’s mind has unraveled so drastically. Many of us have ventured into the Dream of the Nameless One and faced unimaginable horrors. Some have been ‘corroded’ to the point of near death. Yet, none seemed as mentally scarred as him…”

Dumont halted for a brief moment, glancing back at Richard’s door, pondering.

He resumed walking, his voice filled with gravity, “Every trauma leaves its unique mark.” He paused for dramatic effect before adding, “Being viciously attacked in the dream, nearly dying, and then waking up only requires one to heal and reclaim their honor. But to be humiliated within a dream, especially by a young girl wielding a creature named Dog, and then waking up screaming and tumbling out of bed—all in full view of everyone in the assembly hall with the Saint accessing and showcasing your memories to all—it’s a different level of torment.”

The two continued their journey in thoughtful silence. After what felt like an eternity, the shorter one whispered, almost to himself, “That sounds nightmarish…”

Dumont nodded solemnly, “It is. It truly is.”

Back in his room, Richard was slumped on his bed, deep in thought, with every passing second making his face look more tormented.

Beside him, his demonic companion, the death crow, rested in a feeble state on a side table. From it emanated a mystical mist that wafted through the room, intensifying Richard’s sensory awareness.

After some time, Richard felt the overwhelming desire to push his sensory abilities even further. However, rationality took over, compelling him to suppress the emerging power of the death crow within him.

It was essential that both he and the demon bound to him recuperated their strength swiftly. With crucial missions on the horizon, Richard had to demonstrate his capabilities. The current era was nearing its end, and the impending twilight of their world was imminent. The future standing of the Abyss’s followers in the forthcoming age, succeeding the Deep Sea Era, would depend crucially on their deeds in the mystical realm known as the “Dream.”

To achieve everlasting glory, Richard recognized that proving himself in the “Dream” would be the most straightforward way.Thɪs chapter is updated by novelenglish.net . Fɪre.nᴇt

He took a deep breath to compose himself. However, his hand accidentally brushed against a delicate object on his bed.

He discovered it was a familiar strand of cotton.

Intrigued, Richard picked up the strand, surveying the cozy cabin in an attempt to figure out where this unexpected piece had come from.

Could it have come loose from the bed linen?

He meticulously searched every nook and cranny of the room but failed to find the cotton’s source. Feeling perplexed, he made his way to the window, scratching his head in deep thought.

What made this piece of cotton so intriguing to him?

Richard hesitated for a brief moment, lost in his thoughts. Then, dismissing it as a mere inconsequential piece of fluff, he decided not to overthink it.

He proceeded to unbutton his shirt, revealing a zipper on his skin. Nonchalantly, he unzipped it and placed the cotton strand inside against his pulsating flesh.

Suddenly, a gentle and playful laughter echoed through the room. The innocent laughter, reminiscent of a child around five or six years of age, seemed to emanate from the vicinity of the wardrobe. It felt as though a mischievous child was hiding, finding amusement in Richard’s earlier confusion.

The death crow, perched on a nearby cabinet, appeared to have detected something unusual. It momentarily lifted its head, casting a suspicious gaze towards the source of the laughter. However, after a brief moment, it seemed disinterested and lowered its head once again.

……

“Did Rabbi manage to locate the cultists’ stronghold?”

Inside the luxurious captain’s quarters of the Bright Star, Lucretia sat poised at her ornate vanity table. The mirror in front of her was no ordinary one; its edges were engulfed in mysterious green flames that emitted an otherworldly glow. A solitary candle, illuminating the room, flickered silently in tandem with the eerie flames. From within this enchanted mirror, the voice of her father, Duncan, could be heard.

Lucretia, her eyes meeting her reflection, responded, “Indeed, the hideout is onboard a ship. But it’s not just any ship. They’ve managed to gain complete dominion over it. There’s evidence to suggest it houses a significant number of those formidable Annihilators. It’s clearly a pivotal base for them.”

Duncan’s austere face, mirrored in the reflection, looked visibly impressed. “Rabbi has truly surpassed our expectations. Tracking down these cultists has always posed a challenge. They’re masterful at clandestine operations, especially within city-states. It’s indeed surprising they chose a ship as their primary assembly point. I would’ve never guessed.”

Lucretia’s voice held a note of concern, “The ship is an architectural marvel, but its design suggests a macabre purpose: dark rituals. Rabbi has detected a potent stench of blood, likely a byproduct of their continuous sacrificial ceremonies. A ship tainted with such malevolent energies couldn’t possibly moor in any typical city-state port. The dark energies would instantly alert the vigilant Church. There’s a high probability they have a concealed port for resupplying…”

Deep in thought, Duncan took a moment before querying, “And what of Rabbi? Is it still concealed onboard? Is its cover at risk?”

“Rabbi possesses exceptional stealth abilities. Unless it encounters top-tier cultists, like the one referred to as the ‘Saint’, it remains virtually invisible,” Lucretia elucidated. “Remember, Rabbi is an ethereal entity from the spirit realm. It can seamlessly blend with human emotions and perceptions, especially in places imbued with negative energies. The malevolent aura of the ship acts as a perfect cover.”

Duncan nodded appreciatively, “Excellent. Let Rabbi persist with its undercover mission. It’s vital to avoid any encounter with this ‘Saint’ and extract as much intelligence as feasible.”

Originally, once Rabbi had pinpointed the hideout, Duncan’s strategy was to employ a mirror ritual, facilitating his immediate presence at the location. Subsequently, he’d rapidly rally all his allies and launch a surprise attack on the cultists. Their strategy was to repeatedly immobilize the cultists before their protective demons could react. The primary objective: seize as many cultists alive as possible.

This tactical approach had garnered support, especially from Vanna.

However, given Rabbi’s latest revelation, it was evident the challenge they faced was far greater than initially presumed. The straightforward approach Duncan envisioned wouldn’t suffice.

Recognizing the complexity of the situation, akin to a seasoned fisherman, Duncan knew he needed a more nuanced approach.