Deep Sea Embers Chapter 752: On the Road to the Apocalypse

Chapter 752: On the Road to the Apocalypse

The Pope’s reaction seemed to confuse the priest standing next to him, prompting him to begin with a note of caution. “Surely, the fact that the world hasn’t plunged into eternal winter despite the sun being absent for an extended period is a piece of good news, isn’t it?”

“Yes, if we consider only this aspect, it indeed is good news,” Lune, the Truth Pope, responded with a gentle shake of his head. “However, what does this say about the sun’s supposed influence? What about our fundamental understanding of the world, in terms of the ‘rules that are meant to be obeyed’?”

The priest, a man in his middle years, furrowed his brow slightly as he began to grasp the depth of the Pope’s concern.

“The sun is essential for providing light and warmth. Its rising heralds a gradual increase in temperature during the day, and its setting brings about the cool of the night. If the sun were absent for a significant period, we would expect the Boundless Seas to turn to ice. This follows the natural order as clearly as ice melting when exposed to fire. But now, it appears that the night’s temperature drop doesn’t depend on the sun,” Lune explained with a serious tone. “Do you understand the implication?”

Without waiting for the priest’s response, Lune continued after a short pause. “It’s as if we’re dealing with a machine that’s been taken over by malevolent forces—a spinning axle that doesn’t stop even when the steam core has gone cold, a different engine that continues to produce paper tape despite its gears being stuck. The way things work and their expected outcomes are increasingly at odds. It seems some of the natural laws… are breaking down.”

A heavy silence enveloped the temple for a moment until the middle-aged priest broke it. “Perhaps we should reach out to the other three Arks…”

“They’re already observing these anomalies; they probably don’t need our warning,” Lune interjected. “What’s more crucial… has our border fleet set sail yet?”

The priest nodded immediately, “Yes, they passed through the veil an hour ago, and we are still communicating with them. The fleets from the other three churches have also entered the border from various directions. So far, there have been no incidents.”

Lune nodded slowly, “…And what about the evacuation routes at sea?”

“We’ve established twenty-six rally points along the primary maritime routes, centrally positioning large church ships and supply vessels at each. Numerous ships that couldn’t make it back to the city-states in time have heeded our call and are now converging on these rally points for safety. According to our plans, these refuge ships will then be led to a ‘safe distance,’ a three-day sail away from the nearest city-state, where they’ll remain until the end of the night.”

“The true effectiveness of these makeshift ‘night shelters’ at sea remains uncertain. We have no way of predicting how the night might evolve over time. For now, our only option is to prepare as thoroughly as we can and brace ourselves for the possibility of the worst-case scenario unfolding…”

Lune listened in silence, nodding in understanding.

Suddenly, a series of bells rang out, cutting through their conversation—a sound that came from various sectors of the Ark, each ring infused with a palpable sense of urgency.

Caught off guard, Lune paused, then, as if a realization dawned on him, he listened more closely. A faint smile broke across his face as he said, “…They’ve returned.”CH𝒆Ck for 𝒏ew st𝒐ries on no/v/el/bin(.)c0m

Against the backdrop of the night-covered seas, the Vanished and the Bright Star made their presence known with their eerie green fires, appearing as beacons in the darkness. These two ghostly ships bypassed the warning lines set by the church and city-state fleets near the shore, making a beeline for Wind Harbor. Having been instructed beforehand, the patrolling fleets made no move to intercept them.

With no effort to hide or delay, the Vanished and the Bright Star made landfall on the eastern coast of Wind Harbor. Duncan, taking the lead, walked confidently into the city.

Nina, gripping Shirley’s hand, trailed behind Duncan and Morris. They navigated the deserted streets of the port area with furrowed brows.

“…The last time we were here, it was bustling with life…”

“Now, it’s only patrolled by guards,” Shirley responded quietly. She had blindfolded herself with a strip of black cloth to hide her unsettling eyes, but she quickly realized that such precautions were perhaps unnecessary. Upon entering the city, they scarcely encountered anyone, “I’ve heard the martial law could last a month or two.”

Under martial law, the city-state of Wind Harbor should have been teeming with activity by morning. Yet, aside from essential personnel and those in special positions, the majority of residents were adhering to directives to remain indoors. The dim, golden “sunlight” emanating from the sea cast a ghostly glow on the abandoned streets, evoking the atmosphere of a ghost town.

In contrast, the city’s other half, untouched by the glowing body’s “sunlight,” was engulfed in an even more oppressive darkness.

However, as they moved from the outskirts to the more populated areas of the city, they began to encounter the occasional hurried pedestrian and saw a few shops bravely opening their doors.

“Shops are actually open here!” Shirley expressed her surprise upon “seeing” a few open storefronts along the way, “And there are people walking around…”

“You’ve mentioned it yourself; martial law is expected to span a month or two. During this period, some semblance of normalcy in daily life has to be preserved,” Morris explained, shaking his head. “It’s likely that each city-state has come up with a sort of ‘daily routine’ tailored to the prolonged night, permitting people to leave their homes for shopping or work despite the martial law… Life has to continue, after all.”

While Shirley and Morris exchanged thoughts, Duncan remained silent, his attention fixed on the deserted street ahead. Without joining the conversation, he simply stated, “We’ve seen what we needed to… Ai.”

Suddenly, a flame appeared out of thin air, and a fiery skeletal giant bird began to circle overhead, emitting a piercing screech: “Who summons the fleet?”

“Take us to 99 Crown Street,” Duncan instructed.

A trail of fire blazed through the sky above Wind Harbor, resembling a shooting star. It traversed the city part bathed in the artificial “sunlight” from the sea and headed directly towards the “Witch’s Mansion” in the upper city district.

This fiery spectacle caught the eye of many onlookers, but to those in the know, it was a sign of reassuring… good news.

Upon the flame’s descent, the scene before them came into focus, revealing Lucretia facing the unexpected visitors at her doorstep.

Among them were Helena, commanding presence in her sea-blue robe, Lune, somewhat stout in a scholar’s robe, and a group of unrecognizable clerics and scholars, appearing as attendants or aides accompanying the two high-ranking church figures.

It seemed they had been waiting there for some time.

“…Wow,” Nina whispered under her breath, observing the gathering, “Quite a crowd has shown up…”

“It’s not that surprising,” Duncan remarked, his tone nonchalant.

Lucretia’s initial response was a frown. She scrutinized the “guests” who had been waiting at her entrance and stepped forward without concealing her irritation, “I’m not fond of having visitors, especially not this many.”

However, Lune didn’t take offense to the “Sea Witch’s” forthright demeanor. It appeared he was well-acquainted with Miss Witch’s personality and quirks, and he gestured for his group to depart: “Then the rest of you may return now.”

Following suit, Helena signaled for her own clerics and guards to leave, then nodded towards Lucretia, “Now, you only have two ‘guests’ to entertain.”

With a glance at the two high clerics at her threshold, Lucretia exhaled a resigned sigh and moved aside, “…Fine, my father indeed wished to speak with you. Luni, please, open the door.”

The mechanical doll Luni immediately moved past the group to unlock the door, while Duncan gave a slight nod to Lune and Helena, “Let’s discuss this inside.”

The mansion was a beacon of light and warmth in the midst of the night’s darkness. The chill that had settled outside was no match for the cozy fireplace within. Loyal to the mansion’s mistress, mechanical dolls and tin servants had meticulously prepared the house for her return. The table now bore hot tea and freshly baked snacks, their warmth a testament to the oven’s recent use.

Inside this illuminated and inviting space, the outside world’s perpetual, unsettling night and its unraveling seams could easily be forgotten.

The living room became the setting for their gathering, with Duncan adopting a relaxed posture on the sofa. He acknowledged Helena and Lune, who were seated opposite him, with a nod, expressing his surprise at their personal presence. “I hadn’t anticipated you would wait here for me. I was under the impression that leaving the ‘Ark’ was a matter of great seriousness and caution for individuals of your stature.”

“Indeed, without a compelling reason, we would not venture from the Ark lightly. However, convening with you at the earliest opportunity constitutes such a reason,” Helena responded, acknowledging the gravity of their meeting, “particularly in light of the current situation.”

“What is it that you seek to understand now?” Duncan inquired, “Are you curious about the state of the world at present? The origins of this apocalypse? Or perhaps what the future holds?”

A moment of silent communication passed between Lune and Helena before they responded.

“We are eager to learn everything,” Lune declared, shifting in his seat to lean forward, his demeanor growing more earnest. “But foremost, we wish to hear about the occurrences on the Holy Island and your… interactions with the creator of this world.”

Helena chimed in, mentioning that they had received preliminary reports from the Tide, “But we suspect you possess a deeper knowledge of the truth.”

After a brief reflection, Duncan gave a slight nod.

“Then, let me start by presenting a fundamental premise,” he began, preparing them for what was to come.

At the mention of a ‘conclusion,’ a sense of foreboding enveloped Helena, “A conclusion?”

“Yes, a conclusion—the fate of our world is sealed. The possibility of mending is exhausted, and at best… any efforts can only delay the inevitable for a brief period.”

Duncan’s delivery was calm, his voice not raised, yet each word seemed imbued with an immense gravity.