Ashes Of Deep Sea-Chapter 359 - 363 Martha
Chapter 359: Chapter 363 Martha
Chapter 359: Chapter 363 Martha
“Slap!”
The document in his hand was smacked onto the desk as Lister suddenly stood up from behind his desk—it was almost a jump—this harbor defense commander glared with wide eyes at the subordinate in front of him, “Say that again! What happened to Dagger Island?!”
“Dagger Island… Dagger Island, it has disappeared!” The soldier who came to deliver the message stuttered, clearly unable to control himself even as a well-trained fighter under such circumstances, “Just now, we observed a series of explosions on Dagger Island, it’s suspected that the last remaining people on the island detonated various facilities… then, the fleet that was conducting surveillance nearby could only watch as the island quickly sank and vanished from the surface of the sea…”
“Were those fleets affected?” Lister immediately furrowed his brow, sensing that something was amiss.
“No,” shook the soldier, “there was almost no change to the sea surface as Dagger Island sank. The report from the front says… the island seemed to just quietly dissolve into the sea.”
Lister’s face turned especially grim, and after a few seconds of silence, he looked up at the doorkeeper who was still standing in the office, “Miss Agatha, in your knowledge, is there any known Divine Arts, miracles, or Transcendent artifacts that could cause this phenomenon?”
“No,” Agatha shook her head without hesitation, “Such a scale of abnormal change has surpassed the realm of Spells and should instead be classified as a divine sign—or some kind of anomaly.”
“Anyway, we’re in big trouble. The investigation has not yet started, and we have no clarity on the situation on Dagger Island, and the island has completely disappeared at sea. The City Hall will not like this news,” Lister’s brow was tightly knotted, his fingers tapping on the table. Then, as if remembering something, he abruptly looked up at the soldier, “Right, any reaction from the Mist Fleet?”
“They’re still in their old position, not crossing the near-sea warning line,” the soldier replied immediately, “But after Dagger Island disappeared, two of their fast boats briefly approached that area of the sea—stayed for about ten minutes, then quickly returned.”
“That sounds like they were observing the situation… it seems this matter was also unexpected for them,” Lister slowly said, “Damn it, it looks like we have to talk to that great pirate.”
“The Church will also take action,” continued Agatha, “At this point, the exploration plan for Dagger Island is meaningless. We will shift our efforts to thoroughly investigate within the city. The Guardians have already found some clues related to the Eradication Cultists and several possible meeting points. I will personally lead a team to deal with them.”
“I hope you can make some headway, Doorkeeper Miss,” Lister lifted his head, looking at the black-clothed priestess in front of him, “Things are getting out of control. We need assistance from the Transcendent realm more than ever, and the Church’s investigation progress has been very slow.”
“We will give it our all.”
Agatha nodded lightly, then picked up her staff and gently tapped the floor twice. Accompanied by the sound of her staff striking the ground, her figure suddenly turned into a gust of Grey Wind and spiraled directly into a pale crack that appeared out of nowhere in the floor.
Lister watched the place where Agatha disappeared, and after the crack had closed, he let out a sigh, heavily sitting back in his chair, and commanded the soldier, “Go out and close the door.”
He had to write an “urgent message” for the City Hall as quickly as possible, to properly explain the bizarre incident that happened at the doorstep of the City-State.
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The workers of the City-State harbor were guiding the ships to dock. Those wearing black or blue uniforms stood on the concrete quays, each busying themselves in the piercing cold wind, not interacting much with each other, appearing silent and preoccupied.
A bit further away, other ships that seemed to have been docked there for a while were visible, with only a few crew members moving about on them. Their loading or resupplying operations were already completed, perhaps waiting for the next departure procedures.
Further from the dock area, the main thoroughfare leading to the city area could be seen—a wide road extending towards the distant towering buildings. The gas lamps on either side of the road had not been lit yet, but as it was nearing nightfall, there were not many pedestrians visible on the road. Only an occasional carriage could be seen, hastily driving over the increasingly dim road.
Lawrence stood at the edge of the deck, gazing at the City-State buildings in the distance.
This wasn’t his first visit to Frost, but it had been years since his last visit. The long time away, coupled with the decline in memory with age, made him forget the appearance of the city from those days. Now, looking at the distant spires and towers standing in the twilight, he felt particularly unfamiliar.
But anyhow, the Oakwood had finally docked safely at the City-State—although the sky had looked particularly grim along the way, they did not encounter any terrible conditions like a Storm.
Footsteps came from behind, and the old captain turned his head to see it was his first mate.
“The check is nearly over,” said the first mate, “and everyone is asking me if we can go into town today. They’ve been cooped up on the ship for far too long.”
Lawrence looked up at the sky, and although the Creation of the World had not yet appeared, the last remnants of twilight had dimmed to the point of nearly vanishing. He frowned and shook his head, “It’s too late. After nightfall, the districts impose a maritime curfew, and there’s nowhere to go if we disembark now. Let’s all just stay on board—later, I’ll go to the port office by myself to finish the remaining procedures, and tomorrow morning, the others can go ashore.”
“Alright, I’ll pass the message on to them,” the first mate chuckled, then casually asked, “But are you going alone? Should I send someone with you?”
“No need, I can already see the main entrance of the port office—it’s right beside the pier,” Lawrence waved his hand dismissively and pointed towards a place on the shore not far off, where lights were visible, “Make sure to check all the storerooms on the ship after the port inspectors leave, especially the hold where the Sacred Relic is kept and the sealed rooms, to prevent any careless individual from tampering with the setup.”
“Yes, Captain.”
The first mate left, and Lawrence took a deep breath in the night air. The cold northerly wind filled his lungs and jolted him into a bit more alertness.
The old captain then shook his head and complained a bit about the lousy weather, before stepping towards the nearby staircase.
A figure stood at the entrance of the staircase, arms crossed and standing in the dim light where shadows intertwined, watching Lawrence calmly.
Lawrence hesitated for a moment before finally speaking tentatively, “…Martha? What are you doing here too?”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t be asking any questions at this moment, but would be setting sail and leaving this place immediately,” the female mariner with folded arms gazed at the old captain, her tone carrying a hint of helplessness, “Your vigilance has decreased, Lawrence.”
“Martha, I…” Lawrence unconsciously took a half step forward, feeling that something was not quite right, but the multitude of words stuck in his throat, and he could only clumsily extend a hand towards her, “I’ve missed you a little… How have you been lately?”
But Martha did not answer him. She just looked over with calm eyes, her gaze seemingly focused on a point far away. In the gentle sea breeze and the sound of the surf, she slowly started to sing—
“Set sail, set sail, the sailor away from home continues forth…
Through gusts and clamor, we’re but a plank away from death.
Furl the jibs, hoist the mainsail, release the mooring ropes, cling to the gunwales—we are now amid the sea…”
Martha’s voice gradually deepened, and she finally stopped, focusing her eyes on Lawrence, and said in a tone as if talking to herself, “Lawrence, be careful, you’re in the middle of the sea.”
Lawrence suddenly inhaled sharply, the cold air invigorating his mind, and then as if he had remembered something, he quickly reached for his chest, fumbling frantically in his pocket.
Martha took slow steps towards him.
“Lawrence, why have you grown so old?” The female mariner reached out her hand, her raspy voice tinged with softness; she still looked young, despite some signs of life at sea etched on her face, just as beautiful as Lawrence remembered, “Many years have passed, right? You are not young anymore… Neither am I…”
“Martha…” Lawrence’s throat worked as he felt his fingers about to touch the vial, yet missed it again and again.
He could almost smell Martha’s fragrance—the familiar scent with a hint of lemon, her favorite aroma.
Then he touched the small vial.
“Martha…”
He held it in his hand, his feet rooted to the deck as if planted firm. He watched as the person from his memories extended a hand towards him, as in countless dreams, the hand with familiar warmth slowly reaching his hair, and he saw the person from his memories smile, as if about to relate a tale of nostalgia from many years apart…
“Martha, I’m sorry.”
Lawrence clenched the vial, pouring the bitter potion into his mouth.
Martha disappeared.
