Ashes Of Deep Sea-Chapter 360 - 364 Leaving Secretly
Chapter 360: Chapter 364: Leaving Secretly
Chapter 360: Chapter 364: Leaving Secretly
Martha had disappeared, as if she had never existed from the start.
Yet the warm touch still lingered on his temples, the slightly lemon-scented breath still swirling around his nose—she seemed as if she had never come, yet also as if she had never left.
Lawrence felt his fingers trembling slightly. Bowing his head, he tried several times before successfully resealing the small bottle cap, and it took him a long while to place it back into his inner pocket. His heart pounded fiercely—even during great storms, it had never thumped like this.
Rationality arrived belatedly, as if awakening from a long dream. He realized that he had just brushed against madness and nearly fallen into a state of persistent delusion. For a captain who had been drifting on the Endless Sea for most of his life, once engulfed in such a state, retrieving his sanity would be impossible, yet at this moment, he felt neither the relief of a narrow escape nor the residual fear from facing madness.
He only felt a mild sorrow and regret.
And this mild sorrow and regret were also a warning—it meant that deep down, he was no longer entirely resistant to “madness” itself.
Lawrence took a deep breath, trying hard to expel all the thoughts entangling his reason from his mind. He glanced around; the White Oak was right beneath his feet, and here was a ship full of people waiting for him to lead them back to Plunder.
Now was not the time to succumb to madness.
“I really should retire…” sighed the old captain, slowly stepping towards the stairs in front of him, but he had only taken a few steps when he suddenly stopped, his expression turning grave.
He recalled the scene when “Martha” had appeared—although he knew that these “memories” were dangerous and could likely cause her to appear again, he couldn’t help but reminisce, because he suddenly realized there were parts of what “Martha” had said to him that were deeply concerning:
“Lawrence, be careful, you have come to the middle of the sea…”
“If I were you, I wouldn’t harbor any doubts at this moment, but would immediately depart from here… Your vigilance has decreased…”
Lawrence subconsciously repeated these two sentences in his mind, although he knew that they were the result of his memory disorder and cognitive instability. Yet, he couldn’t help but take them as some sort of warning—Martha might indeed not exist, but did he deep down feel some sort of danger through his intuition? Were these two sentences… warnings from his subconscious?
The old captain looked around, once again carefully examining his ship—the White Oak. Everything that met his eyes appeared normal. Then, he lifted his head, looking towards Plunder City-State nearby.
Plunder City-State also seemed entirely normal, the nearby port area calm and serene, with the city regions lighting up not far away and the tall sea cliffs overlooking the ocean, presenting rugged, powerful contours under the dim sky light.
But a faint sense of discord rose inside him, unstoppable like the gradually rising tide in his heart. Accompanied by this feeling of discord, Lawrence suddenly heard a soft sound of waves beside his ear—mingling with the waves around the White Oak. Initially, he couldn’t discern it, but soon he realized this sound was directly arising within his own mind.
The sound of waves… a warning? Was the blessing of the Storm Goddess Gomona taking effect?
Lawrence’s gaze sharpened immediately, and he abandoned his plans to go ashore, turning abruptly towards the direction of the bridge. The cold night wind howled past his ears, like blades stimulating his nerves.
“Captain?” The first officer on duty at the bridge looked startled upon seeing Lawrence appear so suddenly. He stood up from his chair and quickly approached the captain. “Weren’t you heading ashore…”
“The situation has changed,” Lawrence rapidly responded. “Something doesn’t feel right… How long have we been docked here? Has anyone sneaked ashore?”
“No,” the first officer immediately replied. “You had already ordered everyone to stay on board—everyone’s been quite honest. Additionally, we’ve been docked here for several hours now.”
“Good that no one went ashore,” Lawrence quickly nodded and then glanced towards the direction of the control station. “Ignite the steam core; we’re leaving this port.”
“Ah… What?” The first officer was taken aback, not comprehending at first. “Leaving the port? But we just…”
Lawrence interrupted him before he could finish, “Something’s off about this place; I can’t put my finger on it, but I feel very bad about it. Remember the issues with the Observatory earlier on? And earlier still, when we couldn’t contact Frost, our vigilance has lowered since then—something… is affecting all of us.”
He spoke rapidly, knowing how abnormal his commands were—aside from a slight discord in his intuition, he had no evidence to support the correctness of his command. The White Oak had just endured a long voyage, both crew and machinery needing repairs at this moment, making his order to depart seem foolish.
Moreover, departing required coordination with the port authority, and re-igniting the steam core without prior notification was a serious violation. He had to take responsibility for his decision.
But the intense warning throbbed within his heart, the increasingly strong sounds of the waves echoing in his mind. Gomona’s blessing was warning him, urging him to avoid any further contact with the “port” authorities—even an extra word would be too much.
The first mate stared intently at the captain before him, and after nearly half a minute, he suddenly stood upright and said loudly, “Yes, Captain!”
On board, the word of the captain was law.
A captain who had lost his sanity could lead to the demise of everyone on the ship—yet more likely, an experienced captain could save all aboard from a crisis.
The orders were swiftly relayed throughout the ship, the puzzled sailors hurried into action, and soon made ready to set sail again as if by reflex.
A new Boiling Gold Catalyst was inserted into the steam core, and low mechanical vibrations began to awaken deep within the White Oak. The sailors quietly released the mooring ropes from the ship’s side and retracted the gangplank onto the deck. Lawrence stood on the bridge, intently observing the dockside through the expansive glass—
There were figures moving on the dock, vague under the dim gaslight, their forms indistinct, and some loading vehicles passed by a little farther away, casting long, dense shadows on the road.
They seemed completely unaware that a ship had just reignited its steam core under the cover of night, nor did any “thing” suddenly appear to intercept the White Oak as it prepared to stealthily depart.
The situation was better than Lawrence had imagined. In his worst scenario, he even worried that the moment the steam core was relit, hundreds of sea monster tentacles would suddenly emerge from the surrounding waters and drag the White Oak down.
“Keep the lights out, and don’t sound the steam whistle,” Lawrence quickly instructed the first mate beside him, then stepped forward to take the helm himself, “I’ll take the wheel—keep the boiler at high pressure, ready for overload at any moment.”
“Yes, Captain.”
Though still puzzled, everyone on the ship executed the old captain’s orders without hesitation. Lawrence could feel the steel behemoth beneath his feet slowly stirring to life.
The ship maintained its light-out status, the propeller under the water began to rotate, and the White Oak gradually moved away from the port. The sound of water churning could be heard, tension mounting among everyone, their gazes fixed on the City-State shrouded in the darkness beside them.
Lawrence’s palms were sweaty.
But there was still no abnormal reaction from the City-State—even though the movements of the White Oak could no longer be concealed, no one came to inspect.
He glanced at the adjacent radio station; the telegraph was as silent as death.
Theoretically, the Port Authority should have sent an urgent communication by now, questioning why the White Oak was leaving port all of a sudden—but nothing happened.
This only firmed up Lawrence’s conviction that his judgment was correct.
Something was definitely off here!
The power of the steam core was raised a level, the speed of the propellers gradually increased, and the White Oak moved away from the dock area faster, with the open sea appearing directly ahead on the bridge, the surface shimmering with light.
Lawrence took a deep breath and gripped the wheel tightly: “Full speed ahead!”
…
A Grey Wind swept across the courtyard, coalescing in the front hall of the cathedral, from which Agatha stepped out briskly, sprinting through the porch and the hall to reach the “Sanctum of Contemplation” where Bishop Ivan of the City-State resided.
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The holy icon of death god Bartok stood silently at the end of the sanctum; a gloomy black coffin lay horizontally on the platform at the foot of the icon, its lid open. Bishop Ivan, usually resting inside the coffin, stood next to it, looking up towards Agatha.
This bishop, mummified in bandages with only one eye exposed, was today clad in a black robe with golden edges, holding a crosier in his hand. As Agatha approached, he initiated the conversation: “I’ve already heard about the situation on Dagger Island.”
“It seems so, you are personally overseeing the meeting,” Agatha nodded, but with a hint of concern, “Can your body withstand it?”
Bishop Ivan raised his hand, from between the gaps in the bandages, a pale white mist seemed to slowly drift out.
“As long as one holds up—body or will.”
