Chapter 354: Chapter 358: The End Chapter 354: Chapter 358: The End Counterfeits.
After learning from Duncan and others about what “counterfeits” were, and that an unknown number of them had recently appeared within the City-State, even possibly engulfing large areas with their corrosion and cognitive distortion traits, Nemo Wilkins’s face revealed an undisguisable horror.
Even the old ghost, whose mind flitted between clarity and confusion, sensed the terror behind this bizarre phenonon—he kept muttering about the Queen and the Queen’s Guard, displaying an anxious and restless deanor for a long ti before quieting down.
Following that, what Nemo felt was anger.
He could not accept that his long-ti companion “Crow” had died in such an obscure manner—nor could he accept that a Replication of the latter was simply created and was now lying before him, which was obviously an insult to the deceased.
“This matter seems to be influenced by the Eradication cultists. Now the City’s protectors should have already started a large-scale hunt, and I estimate there’ll be so progress soon,” Duncan noticed the change in Nemo’s emotions and spoke, “However, even if we find those heretics, it’s unlikely to resolve the root of the problem—the source behind those heretics is what truly matters.”
“The source behind the heretics?” Nemo woke abruptly from his aggravated state, as if suddenly connecting the dots, “Behind them… Could this involve a divine-level entity?”
The one who answered him was Fenna from the side, “Considering the continuous ergence of Replications from the depths of the Endless Sea, even the Frost Queen from fifty years ago wasn’t able to solve this crisis—do you really think a bunch of heretics could pull this off?”
“There’s evidence suggesting that this involves The Saint,” continued Morris, “His power, and possibly so parts of His limbs, might have manifested in the real world—but you better not ask about the specifics.”
Information pointing to a divine being wasn’t sothing a common person should delve too much into.
Nemo picked up on the subtle warning in the old scholar’s tone and quickly ca to his senses, nodding vigorously, “I understand… I won’t ask further.”
He sure didn’t want to be strangled by a tendril of The Saint in his dreams in the middle of the night for having heard what he shouldn’t.
Fenna then bent down to examine “Crow’s” body on the ground.
The counterfeit was lifelike, at least outwardly; it maintained an appearance almost identical to the original. Only at the edges, a dirty black “mud” was oozing out bit by bit, indicating that the decomposition process had just begun.
This was also the first ti Duncan had witnessed the counterfeit transition from being intact to decomposition, making this intel invaluable for him.
He reached out and flipped through “Crow’s” coat pocket—the paper transcribed with the mysterious “sacred script” had been in this pocket before.
The pocket was empty, and it too was gradually decomposing.
Fenna stretched out her hand, and the moisture in the air rapidly condensed into an ice blade, which appeared in her hand as a dagger. With this makeshift weapon, she pried open the clothing near “Crow’s” chest, only to find the inner layers of the garnt in a strange, fluffy state, with fibers and clumps sticking together, looking rged with the deeper structures of blood, flesh, and skin.
“That paper wasn’t replicated… The copy’s interior shows typical signs of disarray… no blood…” Duncan mumbled to himself and then reached out to touch the slowly writhing black mud-like substance on the ground next to him, only to see it suddenly contract and slink away as if alive, “…These things have yet to harden, but their movent is slowing.”
He slowly stood up and let out a soft sigh, “There’s nothing more to inspect. Better cleanse it to prevent future issues. Fenna, step back a bit.”
Upon hearing this, Fenna hastily retreated several steps to the side, pulling the bewildered Alice with her, and Mr. Morris joined in the retreat.
Nemo and the old ghost also stepped back—although they had no idea why Fenna and the others were suddenly so tense.
Then, they found out.
A faint green fla suddenly flared up beneath Duncan’s feet, and imdiately afterward, the fla leaped onto the nearby “counterfeit” like a predator sensing its prey—fiery flas soared as crackling sounds characteristic of divine wood burning echoed. In nearly an instant, the sinister black mud-ford corpse was reduced to a heap of ash; as the flas burned, the surrounding gas lamps on the wall, as well as the lanterns carried by the old ghost and Nemo, appeared to take on a ghostly green hue!
In reality, the entire process lasted only a few seconds, yet Nemo was drenched in a cold sweat—when the flas erupted, imnse fear perated his being, and he even felt his soul resonate and ignite in the presence of that fire, such that when the flas vanished, he was left with a deep sense of having narrowly escaped disaster.
Duncan turned his head to look at the group that had practically fled to the opposite corner of the corridor, “It’s done… Why did you hide so far away? Wouldn’t a couple of steps back have sufficed?”
“I have a psychological shadow regarding these things,” Fenna bluntly stated.
Duncan: “…”
He stood awkwardly for a mont before touching the bandage near his nose and turning to walk deeper into the corridor, “Cough cough, let’s go, let’s see what else lies ahead.”
Several people hurried to keep up with Duncan, while Nemo watched the burly figure walking at the front with lingering fear. After a few steps, he turned back to look at the old ghost walking beside him, “Do you think… Captain Tyrion might also be very afraid of his father?”
The old ghost seed as if he didn’t hear, simply striding forward, a bit absent-minded as he looked up ahead, until Nemo could not help but call him twice more. Suddenly, the old ghost muttered an abrupt sentence: “That fire… I’ve seen it before…”
Nemo was imdiately stunned, “Seen it? You’re saying you’ve seen flas like the ones just now? Where have you seen them?”
But the old ghost didn’t answer again. With ropes hanging from his body and a pry bar in his hand, he walked on dreamily, then as if he suddenly rembered sothing, he hurried after Duncan and Alice who were up front while mumbling, “The queen is ahead, hurry up, hurry up…”
Nemo watched the old ghost’s back, scratched his head, and couldn’t help but murmur, “Okay, he’s having one of his episodes again…”
After what felt like an eternity, the group stopped once more.
There was no path ahead.
A pile of collapsed boulders and semi-lted steel debris accumulated together, completely blocking the road ahead—and it looked as if it had been like that for half a century.
“This is the end of this corridor,” Nemo pointed to the collapsed area ahead and said, “This was destroyed by the Queen’s Guard during their retreat. The entire collapsed area is likely hundreds of ters; it’s impossible for anyone to get through.”
“We’ve co to the end… but we haven’t found anything along the way…” Fenna couldn’t help but frown, turning back to look in the direction the group had co from, “Even the traces left behind by the movent of the ‘replication’ weren’t found.”
Duncan didn’t speak. He ca before the collapsed ruins, carefully examining these stacked rocks, concrete, and steel, with knitted brows, silent.
Seeing this, Alice couldn’t help but co over, “What are you looking for?”
“Possible gaps or channels,” Duncan said offhandedly, “A human can’t get through, but a mud-like fluid could seep through even the smallest of holes.”
“You suspect… that the replication first seeped through this collapsed area in the form of fluid ‘Pri Elent,’ then reford into human shape on the other side of the corridor and fell?” Morris quickly understood Duncan’s point, but the image that ford in his mind gave him goosebumps, “This sounds… truly chilling.”
Duncan didn’t respond; he stepped back two paces, then looked up, staring at the completely sealed end of the corridor.
There were indeed no signs of anything.
All the way they had co, there weren’t any abnormal traces.
How did the replication… appear in the corridor? Where had “Crow” gone before that, and how had he gotten there?
…
Above the vast and endless Endless Sea, a thin fog had risen.
A steamship with a beautiful white hull traveled through the wisps of fog, its bow cutting through the mist floating on the surrounding sea, leaving behind layers of small rippling wake.
Captain Lawrence, wearing a thick coat, ca onto the deck, staring distantly at the sea veiled in fog and the faintly undulating horizon and iceberg silhouettes within it.
It was dayti, the sun hung high in the sky, but its rays neither dispersed the sea mist nor the chill in the breeze. He only felt the cold gradually penetrating his coat, worming its way into his bones as if his entire body were slowly being soaked in icy seawater.
“The temperature of the north… is truly not kind to an old man born and raised in the central seas.”
Lawrence couldn’t help but mutter.
His first mate, Gus, approached, a tall and thin middle-aged man with curly brown hair. Hearing the captain’s mutter, he smiled, “The Chill Sea always has this kind of weather—more fog than other places, and sotis even during daylight, fog will rise, with chill filling the air. The City-State also has sudden snowfalls… it all makes it hard for outsiders to adapt.”
“I was planning to stay in Frost for a while longer, but now it seems best to head back after finishing the necessary work. Staying here too long will surely make one ill,” Captain Lawrence shook his head, “The fog is becoming a bigger problem. We need to recheck our course in an hour.”
The first mate nodded imdiately, “Yes, captain, I’ll go arrange that shortly.”
Lawrence humd in response, and then asked, “Any reply to the signals we sent to Frost?”
“Not yet,” the first mate replied, “But it’s normal, the efficiency of the northern City-State’s ports has always been like this—let’s wait until we’re closer. They will have to respond to our request to enter the port.”
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