Deep Sea Embers

In their shared surprise, they grasped the rationale behind the mission’s confidentiality, understanding why the gatekeeper had only disclosed the specifics once they were all safely tucked away within the mine.

Such information, even excluding the potential menace posed by any paranormal activities associated with it, could, on its own merit, incite a social uproar within the city-state, especially regarding the truth about the “exhaustion of the mines.”

“We can’t yet ascertain whether the mining tunnels were truly drained of resources decades ago, and neither can we determine the exact nature of what was transported out of the mine under the supposed conditions of mineral scarcity. What is clear, however, is that if all of this is indeed a product of some sort of ‘contamination’, and if the current irregularities within the city-state can be linked to this contamination, then we are currently positioned at the deepest, most concentrated point of this contamination.”

Agatha’s gaze roved over her subordinates, her voice as steady and composed as always.

“I’m aware that you all know the current situation above ground, and I realize you’ve had your doubts. You must be questioning why our top-tier team was dispatched to investigate a seemingly insignificant mine at such a pivotal moment. I understand your concerns for our comrades battling the monstrous entities in the fog and the skirmishes in the surrounding seas.”

“However, let’s not forget that we are also standing on a battlefield as we speak. Our inquiry into this mine could potentially provide our comrades in other locations with crucial assistance. It might allow us to pinpoint and eradicate the crisis at its root, a more strategic approach compared to the relentless and futile efforts against the monsters lurking within the dense fog.”

“So, does anyone have any questions?”

Her eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar sight of her subordinates’ composed and determined faces before nodding slightly in approval.

“Alright, let’s get moving. Our destination is the deepest level of the mine. Be vigilant in this dark environment, and continuously check the ventilation and lighting systems’ status. Each one of you was given a self-support device upon descent. Now, it’s time to put on your masks and activate the external circulation valve. I’m sure you all remember the usage instructions, right? If a crisis arises, switch the valve clockwise for internal circulation, activate the self-rescue device’s pin, and retreat swiftly back to the main tunnel, making self-preservation your top priority.”

Immediately upon instruction, the guardians, priests, and nuns sprang into action. They secured breathing masks over their faces, methodically inspecting the condition of the connecting tubes and the circulation valves. Furthermore, they affixed specially designed underground lanterns onto the clasps of their chest armor to prevent any impediment to their movements.

However, Agatha didn’t follow suit by wearing a mask. Being the gatekeeper of Bartok, her bodily constitution was vastly distinct from that of an average human, particularly in the aspect of “respiration.” The typical toxic gases and suffocating environments wouldn’t have any significant impact on her.

As her subordinates were gearing up to commence their journey, a soft hissing sound stealthily invaded Agatha’s auditory senses.

At first, Agatha surmised that the hissing originated from the sound of her subordinates inhaling and exhaling through their masks. Yet, soon enough, she discerned that the source of the noise was somewhat distant — beyond the cluster of her team members, rooted in the shadowy regions untouched by the illumination.

“Be on guard!” Agatha’s reaction was instantaneous as she vocally warned her crew. Within the next few seconds, several other guardians picked up on the hissing noise — seemingly a valve discharging air — emanating from the obscure depths, and multiple beams of light concurrently veered in that direction.

Within the nebulous mix of light and fog, Agatha glimpsed a silhouette gradually taking form from the shadowy recess — an individual clad in a dense black coat, wearing a gas mask, and seemingly bearing firearms.

This figure was lying amid an assortment of random objects, breathing heavily, with the hissing noise evidently issuing from his gas mask.

Why would there be someone here all of a sudden? The guardians had thoroughly scanned the entire embarkation point prior to this, and it would’ve been highly unlikely for them to overlook such a conspicuous presence!

Questions began swirling in Agatha’s mind, but they didn’t deter her immediate action. She swiftly moved towards the seemingly dying figure, her team of guardians tailing closely.

“…This is a city-state soldier,” one of the guardians promptly recognized the gear of the fallen individual, “A part of the governor’s personal guard.”

Agatha quickly surveyed the soldier, noticing a metallic breastplate layered over his hefty black coat. The power conduit that interconnected his breastplate and armguard was already fractured. An advanced military-grade breathing mask almost entirely obscured his face. It was only from his build that she could infer his gender as male, and the lethal wound was located near his chest – his internal organs were substantially damaged.

One of his arms was already shattered, while the other tightly clung to a rifle.

Perhaps the sudden influx of light around him triggered some physiological response. After Agatha approached, the masked soldier made a slight movement as if attempting to lift his head.

The guardians surrounding her were immediately taken aback, their hands instinctively reaching for their weapons. However, Agatha signaled them with a calm wave of her hand, stepped forward, and slightly stooped down to the level of the fallen man.

“Identify yourself,” she commanded.

“Governor’s Guard… Martin… Blythe… Sergeant…” came the strained response.

“Sergeant Blythe, what brings you here?”

“Governor… Winston…” The soldier, who now identified himself as Sergeant Blythe, spoke in a raspy voice. The words uttered beneath his breathing mask were progressively labored. He referred to the governor’s name and strenuously attempted to raise his arm, seemingly pointing towards an area, “Mr. Winston… entered a secret chamber… we require… reinforcement…”

His voice trailed off, his arm suddenly drooping as if drained of energy, and a final faint hiss echoed from beneath his mask.

His life was extinguished, and in the immediate aftermath of his demise, Agatha noted a tainted black sludge slowly seeping from his wound and the area under his mask — his body began a rapid decomposition process, almost appearing as if it was melting, producing an eerie, squishy noise.

“A doppelganger!”

The guardians in the vicinity instantaneously reacted, retreating swiftly. Simultaneously, the brave priest accompanying them advanced, sprinkling a pre-mixed concoction of powder on the disintegrating body while casting a pale fireball onto the corpse.

With a resonating blast, a pale flame ignited, rapidly enveloping the doppelganger within its grasp. After a swift and intense combustion, all that remained was a mound of dried, motionless black sludge and the lingering warmth in the surrounding air.

Agatha observed this sequence of events with composed demeanor. From the moment the figure materialized, she had surmised that he could potentially be a doppelganger borne from the dense fog. Now, her gaze pensively wandered towards the direction “Sergeant Blythe” had indicated just before his expiration.

“So, it’s this way, huh…” she murmured under her breath.

“Gatekeeper, that could merely have been the trickery of a doppelganger,” the priest adjacent to her felt compelled to caution her after hearing her mumble, “It might well be a trap laid by the adversary.”

“Yet, it appeared not to realize it was a doppelganger,” Agatha mildly shook her head, “Do you recall the intelligence we had gathered earlier? These ‘doppelgangers’ seem to fall into three categories. One type is oblivious, attacking all living beings indiscriminately. Another appears to be under external control, systematically wreaking havoc within the city. And the third type seems to preserve the original’s memories and emotions, without even a hint of awareness that they’re fraudulent…”

The priest looked stunned, his tone wavering, “You’re suggesting…”

Agatha’s expression briefly turned contemplative, but her fleeting moment of indecision went unnoticed by those around. After a brief period of thought, she spoke in her usual calm manner, “This ‘doppelganger’ was duplicated not long ago. It may possess memories from a few hours or even less prior. On the other hand, when we commenced our descent into the mine, the news from City Hall was always relayed by the secretary. Governor Winston seems to have vanished.”

The priest quickly grasped Agatha’s inference.

“So, while the ‘doppelganger’ is a fabrication, its memories are authentic,” he articulated swiftly. “Governor Winston might have indeed ventured here with a contingent of soldiers not long ago, and a sergeant named Martin Blythe may have met his end in these mining tunnels. This thick fog might have replicated the recently deceased sergeant and his memory!”

“That might indeed be the case.”

Agatha responded with a gentle nod, then cast her gaze towards the mining tunnel, dimly illuminated by the diffuse light.

The mysteries unfolding deep within the mine’s layers were unknown to all, yet it was clear that Governor Winston held information others did not. Now, when the entire city was entangled in this phenomenon at this critical stage, he had led a squad of soldiers into this mine. The most substantial lead undoubtedly lay in this direction.

“Thank you for the enlightenment.” Agatha turned her gaze towards the pile of dried sludge, which bore no resemblance to a human form anymore, and acknowledged it solemnly. Then she beckoned her subordinates, “Follow me — we’re going to locate the governor!”

…

Simultaneously, on the vast expanse of the ocean blanketed by a chaotically dark sky, a spectral double-masted ship was gliding over the waves like a swift gust, deftly maneuvering amidst countless tangible and illusory ship shadows.

Lawrence stood at the prow of the White Oak, peering down at the undulating sea beneath him.

Amid those heaving waves, he could already glimpse the reflected silhouette of the distant city-state.