ASHES OF DEEP SEA

Chapter 305: Chapter 309: The Unfortunate Ah Dog

Duncan truly froze for several seconds before he could grasp the meaning behind A-Dog’s words—not that he didn’t understand the other’s language, but he needed to digest the shocking fact.

“Are you sure?” he asked, picking up the small piece of grayish-black flesh with a tinge of blue from the little iron box, and pinched it again, “This thing is a part of The Saint from the Mysterious Deep Sea?”

“You… You’re still touching it?!” A-Dog watched Duncan’s overly “bold and carefree” action, its voice changing pitch with alarm, “Don’t you feel the tremendous pressure and power it’s emitting?”

“No,” Duncan shook his head, then added, “And it’s not just me; Fenna and Morris didn’t react much either—they only felt that this thing is somewhat dangerous or unsettling, but nowhere near your level of agitation.”

Hearing Duncan’s words, A-Dog couldn’t help but crouch lower involuntarily, lying in a fully alert posture next to the table. The bloody glow in its eye sockets flickered dimly and brightly. After a while, it mumbled, “It seems to indeed have lost its vitality… or perhaps its vitality has been suppressed by you. But I can’t tell for sure. I am a Profound Demon, I have an inextricable link with The Saint of the Mysterious Deep Sea, and in my eyes… there is only endless shadow and pressure.”

“It could indeed be related to your constitution,” Duncan spoke as he snapped the tobacco box shut and casually shoved the item back into his pocket. He noticed as he did so, A-Dog visibly relaxed quite a bit, “I’ll keep it put away for now; you might feel better.”

“Thank… thank you, Captain,” A-Dog’s trembling finally eased a bit as it shakily stood up, still looking unsettledly at Duncan’s pocket, “Did you just say… that flesh was brought out from the deepest part of the Obsidian?”

“Yes, and it was from a mortal’s mouth,” Duncan sighed lightly, recounting the events after A-Dog and Sherry had been sent back to the Homeloss, “…we found this piece of flesh sample inside Cristo Babeli’s oral cavity.”

A-Dog’s astonishment was more than evident upon hearing the complete story.

It lifted its head to exchange a glance with Sherry, then for a long half minute, neither spoke. After some time, Sherry finally smacked her lips to break the silence, “Are you saying… the captain named Cristo… bit off a piece of flesh from a deity before he died… Does The Saint from the Mysterious Deep Sea count as a deity?”

“For mortals, there’s no difference. ‘As if a deity’ is an exceedingly broad concept,” A-Dog spoke solemnly, slowly shaking its head, “I… still can’t believe it, completely unable to imagine how he did it—Mortals have no strength to even move a finger in front of The Saint from the Mysterious Deep Sea, let alone fight or counterattack… Besides, how did he even come to see The Saint?”

“The Obsidian once entered the Mysterious Deep Sea?” Duncan frowned at that thought, “After it sank in the outer sea of Frost, it didn’t continue to sink in this dimension, but was teleported away? Or… does the deep sea beneath Frost actually lead to the domain of the Profound Demons?”

“I find that unlikely,” A-Dog shook its head immediately, “I’ve never heard of any place in the Mysterious Deep Sea that directly connects to our dimension, and if there were a leak between the two places, in six years, Frost City-State would have been torn apart by the demons that poured out—remember, the Obsidian sank six years ago.”

Duncan pondered for a moment.

But the information he had was far too limited, and no matter how much he speculated, it was hard to find a reasonable explanation.

One thing was certain: the “flesh” brought from the Obsidian was a very dangerous thing, best not to take it out casually.

Of course, he also considered whether to burn that piece of flesh outright or to load it into the main cannon of the Homeloss and fire it away—based on the feedback Duncan felt after coming into contact with the flesh, he believed it could also be burned as “Transcendent kindling” by the Spiritual Fire. But after a brief deliberation, he decided to hold onto it.

What if it proved useful in the future?

As he mused, Duncan’s attention returned to A-Dog.

The Abyssal Hound had calmed down for a moment and now consciously avoided paying attention to the location of that “Holy Master’s Flesh”, appearing much better.

“Do other Profound Demons react like you do?”

“Eh?” A-Dog was caught off guard, “You mean…”

“All Profound Demons come from ‘The Saint’. You’ve told me that the abodes of stronger ones like yourself are even close to ‘The Saint’,” Duncan watched the blood-colored glow in A-Dog’s eyes, “But you react like this when you’re close to The Saint’s essence—how do you guys normally live beside The Saint? Trembling every day?”

A-Dog clearly froze, probably not expecting the captain’s imagination to be so vivid and detailed. After a moment of silence, it shook its head and admitted, “Normal Profound Demons… don’t react like I do.”

“Hm?”

“Rationality is the prerequisite to madness,” A-Dog sighed, “Only those with wisdom understand fear, and only those with humanity can discern beastliness—I deviated from the normal path of Profound Demons and thus lost the qualifications to be close to The Saint from the Mysterious Deep Sea.”

Sherry blinked, suddenly catching on, “A-Dog, did you just say something very philosophical?!”

“Rationality is the prerequisite to madness…” Duncan ignored Sherry’s fussing, murmuring thoughtfully, “So, now you can’t return to your ‘homeland’, but you can’t sever your link with The Saint. You can no longer approach The Saint’s essence, yet you are exquisitely sensitive to it?”

A-Dog hugged its head and sighed, “…That’s about right.”

“Then you’re pretty miserable.”

Dog’s voice sounded like he was on the verge of crying, “Normally, no one would just show up and start squishing a piece of Holy Master’s Flesh in front of me… This is supposed to be a safe and stable reality dimension!”

“My bad,” Duncan sincerely apologized, “I hadn’t considered that.”

“Don’t, please don’t apologize to me!” Dog immediately felt alarmed and scurried under the table in a rush, “Just a casual apology from you might get me tangled up with Subspace again…”

“…Alright, then,” Duncan paused, his face breaking into an odd smile before shaking his head and turning to leave, “I won’t disturb you further, continue with your reading.”

Sherry hastily got up to see him out, but Duncan suddenly stopped and turned back to look at her.

“You should learn from Dog, who can even read elementary school storybooks now. You spell your own name five times and still get it wrong three times, don’t you find that embarrassing?”

Sherry protested with full confidence, “Dog is a demon in pursuit of knowledge; it’s normal for it to learn quickly! How can I compare with it?”

“First of all, ‘in pursuit of knowledge’ is not to be used like that, and secondly, even if Dog is a demon in pursuit of knowledge–don’t just walk around it all day,” Duncan said with a hint of resignation, “I might have to arrange a test for you all in a few days. I want to see how much you’ve actually learned.”

After dropping that bombshell, he turned and left the room, closing the door behind him.

After waiting a few seconds at the door, Sherry’s wails and curses started up as expected.

A pleased smile appeared on Duncan’s face.

He walked on, heading towards the Captain’s room.

…

The night grew deeper.

In the mother harbor of the Mist Fleet, hidden by mist, floating ice, and strange currents, Tyrion walked slowly along a path at the edge of the harbor.

The cold night breeze blew in from the direction of the sea, with the sound of waves crashing against the shore undulating continuously. The cold and dim light of Creation of the World soaked the entire island, and from the distant air, one could faintly hear the boisterous noise from the plaza in the harbor.

The sailors were having a party, driving away the emptiness of lingering spirits with alcohol, tobacco, and rowdy instruments, using all-night noise to burn through their cold and endless energy—but for Tyrion, such gatherings were too noisy.

They were not conducive to his calm contemplation.

Another set of footsteps followed behind him.

It was his loyal first mate Aiden—now smelling like a slab of bacon, with added hints of cinnamon and clove.

This scent made Tyrion marvel at how many varieties the Plunders had in the tobacco industry.

“You can go and join the party in the plaza,” Tyrion suddenly said, “No need to accompany me on a walk in this deserted place.”

“I’m waiting for the late-night part,” Aiden spoke, “They’ve brought over a dozen Badica dancers from Cold Harbor—they’ve got some real energy.”

“…”

“Captain?”

“On such a cold night, going to dance on a pirate island occupied by the living dead, and it’s not until the second half of the night—be honest, what the hell kind of price did you offer?”

“Not that much, really,” Aiden chuckled, patting his shiny head, “The Sea Raven saved ‘Curved Blade’ Martin’s ship when it went out on business last week, you know, Martin owns a quarter of the theaters and dance troupes in Cold Harbor…”

Tyrion: “…”

The Fleet Commander of the Mist Fleet fell silent in the night wind for a few seconds, pinching the bridge of his nose. After a few moments, he regained his composure.

“Let’s talk about Dagger Island instead.”

“Alright, Captain.”

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