Deep Sea Embers

It seemed that nothing frightening would happen further.

Thus, the man, cloaked in a thick black overcoat, took a deep breath and then picked up the water cup handed to him by Duncan, intending to moisten his throat, which had become a bit dry from running all the way.

But as soon as he picked up the cup and saw the rippling water inside, he felt a little uncomfortable, and an inexplicable unease welled up from his heart. Consequently, he put the cup back down.

Clearly, this was an “aftereffect” of his terrifying experience. He felt that he should best avoid any beverages in a cup for at least a few hours — if it became unbearable, he would find a straw later.

“So, what exactly happened?” asked the yellow-haired, grim-faced cultist who had just handed over the cup, his tone filled with concern. “What trouble did you run into?”

Around the round table, other cultists of Annihilation also turned their eyes this way, all of their faces wearing expressions of curiosity and seriousness.

“That dream… the unnamed one’s dream that the Enders mentioned, with intricate structures and protected by a barrier,” the man in the black overcoat sighed, speaking with lingering fear. “The entrance did not ‘manifest naturally,’ and I don’t know how the other brethren who tried to enter fared. All I know is that I was blocked. Even the remnants of the sun were kept out. But that was not the worst part; the worst thing was…”

The man suddenly stopped, looking somewhat puzzled at the “comrade” seated beside him, his eyebrows slightly furrowed. “Duncan, are you alright? You look ghastly pale…”

“Me? I feel fine,” replied the yellow-haired “Annihilator,” laughing, his voice carrying a hint of hoarseness. “You’re just too tense.”

“You are indeed too tense. Duncan’s face has always looked sickly,” another person by the round table shook his head. “Keep going, what’s the worst thing? Ordinary matters wouldn’t make you react like this.”

“…Duncan Abnomar, the cursed ghost that returned from subspace,” the man in the black coat began, still with lingering fear in his voice, “he intervened in that ‘unnamed one’s dream.\'”

The assembly hall fell into an immediate silence as if an invisible freezing wind had blown through, making the air in the basement suddenly feel thick and stagnant.

In the suddenly descended and unbearable deathly silence, the man in black felt a heavy pressure but quickly adjusted his emotions and continued to speak: “First, I encountered a very troublesome psychiatrist who broke through the ‘mental chamber’ I had specifically set up. Then, in the open area of the ‘Dream of the Nameless One,’ I ran into an even more troublesome ‘Sea Witch’. Things weren’t too bad at this point, as the remnants of the sun slowed down the witch, but then suddenly, Duncan Abnomar appeared…”

“That ghost disrupted everything; those sun remnants and their ‘kin’ were no match at all. The information from the outside was wrong; Duncan Abnomar and the ‘Sea Witch’ were not adversaries at all — they communicated in front of me, their relationship far more harmonious than the outside world had speculated.”

“Do you remember the news that came from Frost? I even suspect… the fleet of the Vanished never truly disbanded. The Bright Star and the Sea Mist were secretly carrying out that ghost’s orders all along, and I, this time… just happened to stumble upon their secret. That ghost and his children are undoubtedly also interested in the ‘Dream of the Nameless One’…”

The man in black spoke rapidly, his mind becoming more active than ever before. The previous shocking experiences were beginning to reassemble and connect in his mind, further supplemented by various secret intelligence from different channels in recent times. Finally, it all came together into a highly convincing, at least to himself, logical chain. In this statement, he felt as if he had finally sorted out his messy thoughts — and understood everything.

However, a gaze, tangible as if it were real, suddenly fell upon him from across the round table, interrupting the man in black’s exposition.

“Wait,” the owner of that gaze spoke up; he was a dignified old man with white hair, piercing eyes, and a deep voice tinged with a leader’s gravity, “You’re saying you encountered that subspace shadow in the Dream of the Nameless One, and you’ve been targeted by It?”

“Yes… yes,” the man in black felt a wave of nervousness under the “Emissary’s” gaze, instinctively feeling some fear but still stubbornly answered, “It tracked me to the real world and attempted to invade my hiding place through mirrors, but I found the pattern of its invasion into the real world and sealed those ‘passages’…”

He spoke quickly and finally began to sense the coldness in the “Emissary’s” eyes. His sluggish, numb mind reacted, and he finally realized — the noise that had always been lingering in his mind and the invisible things that writhed and leaped at the edge of his vision.

He slowly rose to his feet, his muscles trembling slightly, accidentally brushing against the “brethren” seated closest to him — the latter lifted his head, offering a friendly smile. However, that smile concealed an indescribable, enigmatic essence.

The man in black felt an inexplicable tightening in his heart and hesitated as he nervously began to speak: “Duncan, why is your complexion even more…”

The person with dry yellow hair and a morbid, gloomy appearance, referred to as a “Follower of Annihilation,” sighed and shook his head regretfully.

“From a certain perspective, your unique ‘symbiotic ecology’ actually provides me with a natural resistance because the perception of the shadow demons is very keen, without enough intelligence to weigh pros and cons. Thus, it takes only a short time for these demons to collapse. Then, the ‘carriers’ transformed from your material will be damaged, and in the best cases, it only lasts for a few minutes…”

The one called “Duncan,” a “Follower of Annihilation” spoke unhurriedly. As he continued, a faint, crackling sound started to emit from his body, followed by the struggling dissipation of a shadowy chain behind him.

Duncan slowly spread his arms, “The shadow demon that had been symbiotically living with this body had died, and the body itself is now gradually turning to ashes. But the good news is that despite the short time, I still heard plenty of useful things.” After those words, the body was wholly reduced to crumbling ashes, scattering under the dim illumination into the air.

The man in black watched this scene in horror. In those brief seconds, he couldn’t articulate whether the emotion flooding his heart was fear, regret, or anger. Quickly, he reacted, looking up at the “Emissary” seated across the round table: “I am guilty—”

“You are guilty.” The white-haired “Emissary ” spoke emotionlessly, raising a hand and pointing forward. A silent, invisible shadow suddenly emerged in the darkness, then quietly vanished in the gathering place. In just that brief moment, the “guilty” man in black had already bowed his head, his body slumping lifelessly into his chair.

Several seconds later, that body rapidly ignited, and black flames instantly consumed his flesh and emitted waves of nauseating smell.

The cultists in the gathering place silently watched all of this, not a single person making a sound until the burning black ashes had utterly dispersed. Then a tall figure hesitated before breaking the silence: “Emissary, we…”

The person referred to as the “Emissary” remained silent. This white-haired cult leader calmly swept his gaze over everyone in the room, then emotionlessly stood up. He went to close the entrance to the gathering place and locked the hidden exit used for emergency evacuations. Afterward, he silently prayed in front of both doors — black thorns rapidly grew from his prayers, sealing the doors shut in the blink of an eye.

The thin and small cultist who had been responsible for guiding visitors stood up immediately, alarmed: “Emissary! What are you doing?”

“Duncan was one of our earliest members,” the cult leader said calmly, his eyes glancing at the smoldering small pile of ashes beside the round table. “When do you think he was ‘converted’?”

The Followers of Annihilation in the room exchanged looks, gradually coming to a realization, their faces turning to expressions of horror.

“He is among us,” the Emissary returned to the round table and slowly said, looking at the gathered followers, “inside any one of us..”

“What should we do then?” someone beside the round table asked.

“From now on, do not discuss the secrets of our lord, do not share information about the cult. With our mortal bodies, we cannot stand against the shadows of subspace. But our lord will witness our courage and resilience. We will not reveal any information to that ghost, regardless of what terror or deception He wishes to impose here…” the Emissary slowly declared. He then spread his hands open, continuing in a solemn, preaching manner.

“I will find a way to disseminate information about that subspace ghost, including his invasion methods and deceptive powers. In the meantime, I will stay here with you. As you can see, I have sealed all the passages here. Believers, the moment to prove your loyalty to the lord has come. Let us pray — in the profound depths of the kingdom, the lord’s blessings will grant our souls eternal life. All of today’s suffering will be compensated in that eternal realm. Now, begin your prayers.”

His voice resonated within the chamber, filled with authority and commitment. The atmosphere grew solemn, a mixture of fear and determination settling over the assembled followers. Each person understood the gravity of their situation and the immense challenge they faced. Together, they prepared to follow their Emissary’s guidance, united in purpose and belief, ready to face the unknown that awaited them.