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Deep Sea Emberschapter 308: dog’s fierce reaction

In the room behind the blue door, Duncan and his companions stood silently while the twisted mass of organic tissue clinging to the door panel remained quiet for a long time.

After an undetermined amount of time had passed, Duncan broke the silence: “Is there anything else you need our assistance with?”

“I don’t seem to have any regrets,” Cristo’s voice came through, “and I can’t think of anything to ask for. What can you do for a soul that has been dead for so many years, kind people?”

“What about your family?” Vanna inquired from the side.

“Family…” Cristo hesitated momentarily, as if memories were surfacing within his twisted “shell,” “Oh, right, family… My wife and daughter, they live in Frost, at the end of Fireplace Street…”

Cristo murmured softly, his voice growing fainter as if he was drifting to sleep. But suddenly, he awakened, and his voice became more distinct: “Ah, if you have a chance, please visit them on my behalf, even just to deliver a message. They probably already know what happened to the Obsidian.”

“Is there a specific message you want to convey?” Vanna asked.

Cristo thought for a long while. Just as Vanna assumed he was falling asleep again, the writhing mass of organic tissue abruptly spoke: “I can’t think of any. I can’t even remember their faces anymore… Just say good morning to them, and tell them I left without regrets or pain. That’s it.”

“We will pass on your message if they still live at that address,” Duncan nodded gently, and at the same time, his gaze fell on Cristo’s slightly swelling and contracting shell.

It wasn’t an illusion; the life force within the organic tissue was gradually diminishing. Cristo’s consciousness seemed to be slowly leaving this shell, and a faint layer of gray was spreading along the edge of the tissue.

All these changes might be related to the heart in the depths of the Obsidian ceasing to beat.

It was time to leave.

“We should go,” Duncan said calmly.

“It’s about time…” Cristo’s voice grew slower and more indistinct, but it remained clear, “I wish you a smooth journey from here on out. Leave me here; a captain should be with his ship.”

“… Actually, we’re going to sink this ship before we leave,” Duncan hesitated for a few seconds but chose to tell the truth about their next course of action. “Captain Cristo, you must realize that the Obsidian has been contaminated. We can’t allow this ship to continue drifting on the Boundless Sea. It’s a threat to ordinary sailors.”

Cristo was silent for a moment and then spoke softly, “Thank you, kind person.”

Duncan looked at the captain for a few seconds, nodded silently, and prepared to leave.

But just as he was about to cross the door, Cristo’s voice suddenly reached his ears again: “Among you, is there a follower of the god of death, Bartok?”

“… I’m sorry, we don’t have any,” Vanna shook her head, “Why do you ask?”

“Ah, I was just hoping that a follower of the god of death could assist me with a prayer for my soul’s passing. After all I’ve experienced, my soul is tainted, and I doubt I can pass through Bartok’s door of life and death. If there’s a prayer, perhaps my soul can dissipate more quickly… But if not, then so be it. Life is always full of disappointments, isn’t it?”

Vanna and Morris exchanged glances involuntarily. After a brief hesitation, the latter couldn’t help but speak up: “We are clerics of the storm goddess and the god of wisdom. We will pray for you after we leave. Although it may not be as effective for a follower of the god of death.”

“I’m not familiar with the god of death Bartok, but if what you’re saying is the greatest wish of a dying follower of the god of death…” Duncan said, stepping forward to grasp the hand attached to the door panel, “I hope your wish comes true.”

“… Thank you, kind people.”

The writhing mass of flesh finally fell silent, its movements slowing down and the gray color of death spreading everywhere. He was not yet completely dead, but the last of his vitality could no longer support further conversation.

Duncan silently nodded to the captain of the Obsidian and stepped through the door.

The group left the captain’s quarters, navigated the twisted, chaotic corridor, and crossed the three nested gates to return to the deck of the ghost ship.

Outside, the sun had already begun to set for the evening.

Accompanied by the sound of flapping wings, a spectral undead bird wrapped in flames flew in from the direction of the Vanished, circling above Duncan and his companions.

A faint green flame rose from the Obsidian and transformed into a meteor streaking back to the nearby Vanished.

Moments later, the Vanished slowly adjusted its position. The gun port covers on the side of the ship were lifted, and dark gun barrels extended from the firing holes.

Gunfire roared, and fiery meteors rained down. Under the increasingly slanted and pale bloody sunset, the Obsidian was almost immediately engulfed in raging green flames and rapidly took on water, disintegrated, and sank amidst a spectacular series of burning and explosions.

This ghost ship, which had been thoroughly eroded by supernatural forces, sank into the deep sea in an incredibly short time, leaving only a few whirlpools of various sizes on the surface.

At the edge of the Vanished’s deck, Duncan faced the setting sun, watching the direction in which the Obsidian sank, and saw the ghost ship off until the last moment.

It wasn’t until it had completely sunk that he turned his gaze back to Vanna and Morris, who was standing behind him.

“Sailing on the Boundless Sea is one of the most dangerous jobs in the world, and being a captain of an ocean-going ship is the most perilous position,” Morris said with some emotion, “More than half of ocean-going captains meet a tragic end. Even if they retire alive and settle on land, they struggle to integrate into ordinary life due to various reasons. Most of them suffer from curses and mental abnormalities, with hallucinations, visions, and even scrambled memories haunting them for the rest of their lives. My daughter, Heidi… deals with this kind of thing often.”

Duncan didn’t respond to the old scholar’s sigh.

After all, from the perspective of the people, this ship, the Vanished, and he, as “Captain Duncan”… were actually just another example of those who didn’t meet a good end.

It was just that his “bad end” was too intense.

“How are Shirley and Dog?” Duncan suddenly asked.

“I just went to see them,” Alice immediately raised her hand, “Dog said it’s fine now and is currently studying Nina’s textbooks from elementary school. Shirley said Dog needed someone to take care of him, so she is dozing off next to Dog.”

“… The enigmatic knowledge-seeking hound and its illiterate owner, huh,” Duncan’s mouth twitched as he walked towards the cabin, “I’ll go check on them.”

He went straight to the cabin where Shirley and Dog were staying, knocked on the door, and found it was slightly ajar. Pushing the door open, he saw a dog sitting on its hind legs at the desk, engrossed in a primary school textbook, held by his two front paws, and the illiterate Shirley, who was fast asleep on the bed behind Dog.

Duncan’s mouth twitched, and although he had just heard Alice say this, seeing this scene for himself made it feel even more surreal. Dog, hearing the noise at the door, looked up, “Oh, Captain you… Ahh, damn!”

Before it could finish its greeting, the enigmatic hound suddenly let out a loud, cracking scream, and Dog’s entire body jumped up from the chair, almost reaching the ceiling!

With a clatter, the black chain connecting Dog and Shirley instantly tightened. Shirley, who had been sleeping soundly on the bed, was pulled into the air by the act and slammed into the wall beside her with a loud “thud.”

“Dog, have you lost your mind?” Disoriented from the impact, Shirley immediately jumped up and pounced on Dog, “Why did you suddenly…”

She finally noticed Duncan standing at the door and Dog’s terrified expression.

“Dog, are you alright?”

Both Shirley and Duncan spoke almost simultaneously.

“I’m fine, I’m fine… No, wait, there’s something…” Dog seemed not to have recovered yet, still trembling all over, its eyes constantly shifting as if trying to look at Duncan but instinctively avoiding him. After a long pause, it managed to say, “Captain, are you carrying something… in your left pocket…”

“Something?” Duncan was startled, then realized what Dog was talking about. He reached into his left pocket and pulled out a small metal box that had once held tobacco.

Opening the metal box, a thumb-sized, dull-colored strange “flesh piece” came into everyone’s view.

“I, I, I… Damn!” Dog became even more anxious when it saw the object and scurried to the corner of the room, “Where… where did this come from?!”

“From the depths of the Obsidian,” Duncan frowned, “Why are you reacting like this? Can you sense something from this…?”

“Nether Lord! The aura of the Nether Lord!” Dog trembled as if in vibration mode, “This is the flesh and blood of the Nether Lord!”