Deep Sea Embers

No matter how insane and misguided the heretics were, and regardless of how their warped theories defied morality, as a member of the Orthodox Church, the old caretaker had to comprehend the heretics’ information, their fanatical doctrines, and their highly tainted knowledge system. At the heart of the Annihilation cultists’ entire heretical system was one thing: The shadowy Nether Lord and the various “miracles” he created.

The Annihilation cultists firmly believed that the world, now blessed by the gods, was not a “peaceful paradise” but a deeply corroded and twisted “land of exiles” at its core. They believed that the real world’s prosperity was an illusion crafted by the gods and that the true destination of human souls and the “untarnished real world” was not here but in the depths of the world—the Abyss Realm.

Based on this belief, they considered the Nether Lord and the demons to represent the purest, most primal, and uncontaminated state of the world. They thought that humans could only “return” to the Abyss Realm and regain their original purity by purifying their tainted flesh.

However, the mortal world was sealed by the gods, and there was a barrier between the “distorted real world” and the “true real world (the Abyss Deep Sea).” The flesh and blood of mortals represented this barrier. As long as human souls were trapped in this shell and continuously subjected to “contamination” throughout their lives, they could not return to the Abyss Realm.

Therefore, the Nether Lord would bestow a miracle called the “primal essence”—the heretics believed that this sacred substance was the foundation of everything at the beginning of the world. The blueprint for the “real world” was hidden in the microscopic scale of the “primal essence.” Only the “primal essence” could counteract the curse in the flesh and blood of mortals and bring them back to the “pure state of their birth.”

As for the substance called “primal essence,” the Annihilation cultists described it like this:

“… it will display all the characteristics of everything in the world and will always be in a constant cycle of evolution. It represents all the plans and blueprints of the Nether Lord when shaping reality. Shortsighted mortals can never measure any accurate nature of the primal essence…”

The old caretaker abruptly looked up, staring into Agatha’s eyes: “…So that is the ‘primal essence’?”

Agatha replied without hesitation: “The primal essence is just nonsense from those heretics. It’s likely just a new substance that we can’t explain with our current knowledge system. Its property changes may be a natural phenomenon or perhaps some extraordinary power, but it can’t be a ‘miracle’ bestowed by the Nether Lord.”

However, faced with such an answer, the old caretaker’s expression didn’t change at all, still quietly gazing into the gatekeeper’s eyes: “But do you believe that is the ‘primal essence’?”

Confronted with the question a second time, Agatha finally fell silent for a brief moment. After two or three seconds, she let out a gentle sigh, “I must admit, at least in terms of properties… the samples we brought back do match the description provided by those heretics.”

The old caretaker looked up, gazing at the distant morgue. The fine snow had grown larger after nightfall, with snowflakes continuously falling from the dark night sky. Staves stood in the dim cemetery, their lanterns at the top illuminating the surrounding scattered snowflakes, as if adding a hazy texture to everything.

His gaze, however, went through these scattered snowflakes and lights, landing on an empty autopsy table not far away. There was once a unique corpse placed there.

“Those samples… used to be a person, or at least looked like one,” the old caretaker said, as if talking to himself, “You personally led the team to bring him here. You should still remember.”

“Of course I remember,” Agatha said softly, “Very few corpses require the ‘Gatekeeper’ to transport personally, and that body was found in the deepest part of the mine – the deepest place in the entire city-state. The deceased brought out from there… were very special.”

“But the extent of his uniqueness still exceeded everyone’s expectations,” the old caretaker turned his head, looking at the young gatekeeper, “You found the actual victim of the fall on the second day, so that corpse was clearly just a ‘copy’ of the real victim… A copy made of ‘primordial matter,’ no wonder it attracted the attention of those Annihilation heretics.”

“Perhaps it wasn’t that it attracted their attention, but rather the whole incident was their doing,” Agatha shook her head, “We suspect that the fall accident was the work of the cultists, with the purpose of using the victims to create ‘copies’ in the depths of the mine, like some kind of sacrificial ritual. However, their plan obviously went awry, leading to the accidental discovery of the copy, which was even sent to your cemetery.”

The old caretaker shrugged, “It also attracted the attention of an indescribable ‘visitor’.”

“…Yes, an indescribable visitor,” Agatha’s usually calm expression finally showed some change, and her tone became cautious, “We still don’t know what its intentions are.”

The old caretaker looked up at the sky and said after a moment of silence, “The night is deep.”

The cemetery fell quiet for a while, with a creepy and tranquil atmosphere enveloping the paths and platforms, permeating the night wind carrying snowflakes.

Everyone was waiting – waiting for an indescribable visitor or a peaceful sunrise.

The silence lasted for an unknown amount of time, just as Agatha was about to persuade the old caretaker to rest in the cabin first, a gentle knocking sound suddenly rang out in the darkness.

From a nearby coffin, a clear and low voice emerged:

“Why did you stop talking?”

As such a voice suddenly came from the silent cemetery, even the well-trained church guardians couldn’t help but be momentarily startled and taken aback. Agatha even felt that the snowflakes floating in the lamplight seemed to stagnate for a second or two – the next second, all the guardians swiftly gathered around the coffin that emitted the sound, with the noise of boots stepping on the snow intensifying.

Agatha almost instantly transformed into a pale shadow, appearing next to the autopsy table in the blink of an eye, staring intently at the coffin that had made the sound. After taking a couple of deep breaths, she managed to ask in as calm a voice as possible, “Are you… the visitor from two days ago?”

“Please excuse my intrusion, I hope I didn’t scare you,” Duncan thought for a moment, then casually greeted from inside the coffin, “I did come by a couple of days ago, but there were some cultists causing trouble, so my interaction with the caretaker wasn’t very smooth.”

Footsteps sounded nearby, and the old caretaker, with a cautious look in his eyes, carefully approached the coffin. He quickly glanced at the dark wooden coffin and then just as quickly looked away.

Although this time he was not affected by the incense, his clairvoyance didn’t spiral out of control, and he even took a potion to resist spiritual contamination in advance. However, the psychological shadow from the last “contact” was severe, making the experienced old soldier extremely cautious.

“…Did you just arrive?” After calming down a bit, the old caretaker finally broke the silence.

“I’ve been here since you started discussing that essence thing,” Duncan’s voice came from the coffin, “I felt like I heard some interesting information—but you suddenly stopped talking.”

Agatha looked up, puzzled, and exchanged glances with the old caretaker.

Her lips moved slightly, but her voice went directly into the old caretaker’s mind: “Is this visitor… really so approachable?”

The old caretaker shrugged, also moving his lips slightly: “How would I know?”

The two church officials briefly communicated before Agatha gestured gently to their surroundings, signaling the guardians to step back.

Duncan had actually sensed the atmosphere around him from inside the coffin long before. He had been lying there for more than a few minutes, listening patiently and curiously since the old caretaker and the young woman started discussing the “essence”. Now, feeling the atmosphere dissipating, he casually said with a smile, “There are quite a few people here tonight.”

“…We mean no offense,” Agatha immediately responded cautiously, as she could not yet determine the origins of this “visitor.” But at least the other party had not shown any initial hostility, so being polite was the first step in dealing with a superior, non-hostile “god-like” existence, “The arrangements here are just to protect our own sanity.”

“Oh, I understand. People often start talking to me and suddenly go crazy. To be honest, it’s quite troublesome,” Duncan’s voice carried a hint of amusement, “It’s good that you know how to protect yourselves.”

Agatha furrowed her brow.

She had dealt with many supernatural beings before, some of which were extremely malicious or chaotic and dangerous, but this was the first time she had ever encountered one that was chatting with her so casually.

“May we know who… you are?” After a moment’s hesitation, she finally mustered the courage to ask.

Duncan pondered seriously inside the coffin.

Then he recalled the glorious achievement of the Vanished dragging the thirteen islands of Witherland into subspace and the connection between the thirteen islands and the Death Church.

“Just an unnamed traveler. Don’t be curious about my name—it’s better for both of us.”