On the small metal chest badge, the name “Cristo Babelli” was etched in steel, identifying him as the captain of the Obsidian.
This badge left the atmosphere at the scene eerie and silent, with the only sound in the spacious cabin being a heart pounding.
“Is his name Cristo?” Alice broke the silence after a while, scratching her head, looking puzzled. “But the… ‘person’ we saw behind that blue door also said his name was Cristo, right?”
“If this ship is from Frost’s deep sea, then everything on board could be distorted replicas. Each pile of twisted things here might represent Cristo or anyone else on the Obsidian at that time,” Duncan said calmly, his gaze falling on the wide-eyed middle-aged man on the ground with a hand covering his mouth. “The key is this… this corpse, which is clearly unique.”
“Do you think he’s the original?” Vanna quickly reacted, looking at Duncan in astonishment. “But… how could the original be here when the whole ship is obviously twisted and replicated?”
“Our understanding of Frost’s deep sea is based on Tyrian’s limited memories, and even what Tyrian knows is only part of the information from the early stages of the entire Abyss Plan. The entire project has never truly uncovered the secrets of the seabed below one thousand meters,” Duncan shook his head. “We know very little about Frost’s waters, and our assumptions about the rules for these ‘replicas’ may be incorrect. Perhaps the original is hidden within the counterfeit shell, or maybe every counterfeit is a manifestation of the original split apart, or even perhaps in the deep sea, there is no distinction between counterfeits and originals.”
As Vanna listened to Duncan’s words, she couldn’t help but glance at Alice beside her.
But Alice didn’t give it much thought. She was just curiously observing the “Cristo Babelli” on the ground. After pondering for a while, she suddenly asked, “Why is he covering his mouth?”
“People often react like that when they’re scared,” Morris said casually, “it’s not strange.”
However, as soon as he finished speaking, Duncan’s voice chimed in, “No, it’s quite strange… it’s not because of fear.”
Morris looked at Duncan in surprise, only to see him squatting down beside the eerie corpse, even bringing his face close to it, carefully examining something.
Thump, thump, thump.
Cristo Babelli’s heart continued to pound with Duncan’s approach – it beat even faster and more forcefully than before.
Duncan noticed the change in the heart, but his main focus was still on Captain Cristo’s face. After careful observation, he suddenly discovered something.
“There’s something in his mouth.”
“Something in his mouth?” Morris was taken aback, then saw Duncan reach out to try to pry the corpse’s hand away from its mouth.
The resistance from the hand surprised Duncan.
This corpse was tightly covering its own mouth, as if, even after years of death, it was still consciously resisting something!
Initially, Duncan didn’t use much force, and as a result, he failed to pry open the hand. He knew that with more force, he should be able to easily overcome the dead man’s grip, but he hesitated before continuing.
“Mr. Babelli, if you’re guarding a secret, you can let go now,” Duncan said calmly, looking into the wide, angry eyes. “Leave the rest to me.”
The hand loosened.
Next, the tightly clenched mouth relaxed as well.
Vanna and Morris exchanged surprised glances, and then they saw Duncan reaching out, searching for something in Cristo’s slightly open mouth.
A soft, somewhat repulsive sensation met his fingertips. Duncan frowned, suppressing his discomfort as he extracted a lump from the dead man’s mouth.
It was a thumb-sized piece, dark with faint blue lines, very soft to the touch… like a piece of flesh torn from a larger being.
“What is this thing?” Alice was the first to curiously approach, clinging to Duncan’s arm as she examined the motionless, black, and blue piece of flesh. Then, her face revealed some revulsion. “Yuck… I don’t like this thing…”
Duncan looked at Alice in surprise. The usually cheerful doll rarely displayed such immediate and clear disgust.
As Alice spoke, Vanna quickly frowned as well. “I sense a very disturbing aura from this thing. It reminds me of pollution that has risen from the depths of the world into reality.”
“My intuition tells me that it’s best not to keep staring at this thing,” Morris added. “This is likely a warning from the god of wisdom. Don’t you feel anything holding it?”
“Feel? No,” Duncan pinched the piece of flesh in his hand. “The touch is a bit repulsive, but I don’t experience the exaggerated reaction you’re describing.”
“Oh, that’s normal, as your status is different from ours,” Morris showed no surprise, then continued, “But one thing is certain, what you hold in your hand is not meant to exist in the real world. It should be the most important clue in this ghost ship…”
But then his words were cut off midway because everyone had heard the pulsating heart in the air rapidly weakening.
Duncan lowered his head, staring at Cristo’s corroded and twisted chest, and saw the heart that had been forcefully beating just moments ago now covered in a layer of gray. The pounding sound weakened to near silence within a few seconds, and then, under his gaze, the heart suddenly ignited and turned to ashes in the blink of an eye.
Simultaneously, a low, hoarse, and somewhat familiar voice entered everyone’s ears. The source of the voice was unclear, and it seemed as if the entire ship was sighing: “Ah, so that’s how it is…”
Vanna was the first to react, “It’s the voice from behind the blue door!”
Duncan looked at the body on the floor, witnessing the remains of “Captain Cristo” melting like wax. The remnants, which should have been eroded by seawater six years ago, appeared to be compensating for the lost time, turning into jagged bone fragments in an instant.
He made up his mind immediately and turned back in the direction they had come from: “Let’s retrace our steps.”
Their return was much quicker than their exploration.
The group rapidly moved through the eerily silent and open cabin, through the chaotic and twisted sloping passage, and soon arrived back at the “Captain’s Quarters” with the blue door.
The door was slightly open, and behind it, the creature claiming to be “Cristo Babelli” still quietly clung to the wooden plank.
Vanna stepped forward, and almost immediately, the creature seemed to sense their presence. Its surface began to wriggle, and it spoke in a hoarse, low voice: “Ah, you’re back.”
“… Captain Cristo,” Vanna steadied herself, trying to keep her tone calm, “We have some matters to discuss…”
But before she could finish, “Cristo” interrupted her: “I already know, madam, I have remembered.”
Despite harboring a vague suspicion, Vanna couldn’t help but ask: “You… remembered?”
“If you’re referring to my death, then I remember, albeit only partially,” Cristo said in a low voice, “I am dead, right? Certainly… the Obsidian sank, we encountered a storm and an iceberg, we sank down, descending into the boundless darkness. I had no chance of survival.”
Duncan was silent for a few seconds before abruptly stepping forward: “Do you know what happened in the depths of this ship?”
“Depths?” Cristo’s voice seemed somewhat confused.
“Do you recall the specifics of your death?” Duncan asked again, “Did you ever struggle with something? Did anything occur on the ship after it sank into the deep sea?”
Cristo fell silent as if in thought, then a slightly regretful voice emerged from the creature: “I’m sorry, I don’t remember those details. All I recall is…the ship sinking, sinking for a very, very long time. Everyone died, and I should have died too, but I kept drifting in the darkness, surrounded by cold and darkness. It was as if I was searching for something in the dark. I don’t know how long this chaotic state lasted. When I finally regained my memory, I was knocking on this door.”
Duncan exchanged glances with the others.
“Captain Cristo” had no reason to lie.
The captain had only realized that he was dead, but he didn’t remember what had transpired in the depths of the Obsidian, nor did he know about the demise of “the other self” in the mysterious space at the bottom of the ship, let alone the origin of the mysterious piece of flesh.
The clues seemed to have run dry.
But Duncan glanced at the palm of his hand—the dark-colored piece of flesh still lay silently in his hand.
He had already made a significant discovery.
