Deep Sea Embers

Upon hearing the priest of the god of death speak before him, the elderly caretaker didn’t comply immediately as an ordinary gravedigger might. Instead, he furrowed his brow in displeasure, “I am this graveyard’s caretaker, and I’ve never been told the caretaker must leave during any events here.”

“Sir, this is an exceptional circumstance,” interjected the short man in black, speaking with sincerity and gravity. Noticing the resolute expression on the old caretaker’s face, he eventually sighed, “Alright, I wasn’t meant to divulge this, but the body is being transported to the Silent Cathedral.”

“The Silent Cathedral?” the old caretaker inquired reflexively, “What’s going on?”

“An extreme, unidentified contamination, potentially linked to something deep within the mines. A unique purification ritual is required, and it’s best if fewer living people are present,” the short man stated gravely. “Not only must you leave, but my colleague and I will also need to accompany you.”

As he spoke, the tall, muscular man in black also came forward and stood quietly beside the short man.

The old caretaker glanced at the pair of black-garbed priests before him and then at the woman in black near the corpse platform. She had already removed the herbs and holy oil for the ritual, setting up a makeshift altar on the ground in front of the platform.

“Fine, since this involves mines and contamination, it’s not my concern,” the old man finally relented. He shrugged, grabbed his shotgun, and headed towards the graveyard path while calling back to the tall and short men in black, “Follow me, there’s hot tea in my hut. You can also warm yourselves by the fire; the graveyard gets colder at night than outside.”

The two men in black exchanged looks and casually expressed their gratitude as they trailed the old man, “Thank you for your hospitality, sir.”

With the old caretaker and the two men in black gone, only the thin-lipped woman in black and the taciturn, gaunt man remained near the corpse platform.

And a now-silent casket of course.

Duncan lay still in the coffin, pondering his conversation with the caretaker while speculating on the background of the unanticipated guests who arrived later.

During the journey to Frost… things indeed differed from his time with Pland. Though it didn’t seem to be going smoothly, it possessed its own distinct allure.

His only dissatisfaction stemmed from the inefficiency of his current body.

Inside, Duncan raised his hand and watched a small green flame flicker on his fingertip, casting light in the confined space.

Thankfully, the ghost fire’s efficacy remained unaffected.

In the dim green glow, he observed the cheap, low-quality wooden boards, the rough linen lining, the intricate runes on the coffin lid, and the triangular emblem at the center of the runes. This symbol likely represented Bartok, the god of death.

The runes and emblem were evidently not some “refined craftsmanship” either but more likely machine-printed; the outcome was essentially the same.

Duncan strained to listen intently to the sounds outside the coffin.

The coffin was quite thin, and the seal wasn’t secure, allowing Duncan to clearly hear the conversations outside. He had just heard the caretaker and the two uninvited guests departing, and now he detected rustling noises as though the remaining individuals were moving around the coffin.

What were they planning to do? The woman in black halted her preparations of the altar in front of the corpse table.

She rose, glanced in the direction the caretaker had departed, and after confirming the obstinate old man was far enough away, she spat on the ground before coming towards the coffin and knocking over the “alter” she had arranged.

The silent man in black had already approached the coffin, flicking his staff so that the metal hook on the end sprung out, transforming into a crowbar.

“Wait a moment,” the woman in black stopped her companion, then came to the coffin and tapped it with her fingers. “Are you still in there?”

“Ah, yes,” Duncan responded promptly. “Need something?”

The woman in black furrowed her brow, appearing slightly puzzled, but then spoke impassively, “Do you know who you are?”

“…I’m not certain,” Duncan casually lied. “Actually, I’m still baffled about how I ended up here, and just now a graveyard caretaker informed me that I was dead and would be cremated in three days… What happened? And what are you doing here?”

“Ah, we’re here to assist you,” the woman in black stated indifferently. “You don’t want to be cremated, right?”

“Of course not—although Frost’s winters are indeed frigid, warming up in the crematorium is excessively extreme. Are you going to let me out?”

“Your chilly joke is as cold as this night, sir,” the woman in black chuckled. “Naturally, we’ll release you. All you need to do afterward is accompany us, and you won’t have to worry about anyone bothering you again.”

“Thank you.” The voice inside the coffin expressed gratitude politely.

The woman in black composed herself, stepped back slightly, and gestured to the quiet man wielding the crowbar: “Pry it open.”

The silent man advanced, and with a creaking noise, the already fragile coffin was soon unlocked. He then pushed the dark coffin lid aside using his staff, allowing the cover to drop heavily to the gravel. However, instead of making a loud thud from the act, the coffin lid instantly disintegrated into dust at the woman’s silencing gesture.

Subsequently, the two imposters now had a clear view of the coffin and its occupant – a pallid man with large hands and feet, dressed in a dark brown coat, sat up from within and studied them curiously.

“Ah, this is becoming interesting.” After a moment, a faint smile appeared on Duncan’s face, and he sighed as if appreciating the sight.

“What did you just say?” The woman in black frowned, then immediately adopted a stern expression and commanded in a deep voice imbued with a peculiar power, “First, step out of the coffin and depart with us.”

“There’s no rush,” Duncan sat in the coffin, shaking his head with a smile, “Your chains are quite distinctive, as are your shadow demons; I thought they only existed in legends.”

Upon hearing this, the man and woman in black appeared momentarily stunned. In the next instant, they looked shocked, and the thin-lipped woman even subconsciously took a step back, gazing at Duncan with a blend of astonishment and caution, “You can see through our disguises?!”

“Disguise?” Duncan raised his eyebrows, his gaze sweeping over the two individuals before him.

A woman clad in a long dark-colored skirt, her face thin and harsh. A black chain emerged between her neck and collarbone, evidently attached to her body, as though it extended directly from her collarbone. At the end of the chain was a grotesque creature composed of twisted black bone plates.

The creature, an odd bird, was enveloped in black smoke and perched steadily on the woman’s shoulder. Its two blood-red hollows stared intently at Duncan, and each bone plate on its body quivered slightly.

The other person was a thin man wearing a thick gray-blue coat. A chain extended directly from his throat, the other end connected to a massive floating jellyfish. The jellyfish appeared insubstantial, its entire body comprised of drifting smoke, with a blood-red core pulsating like a heart at its center.

Black chains and eerie, smoke-shrouded creatures lived symbiotically.

Undoubtedly, they were two members of the Annihilation Sect.

And at this moment, both cultists appeared astonished.

“Ah, yes, the disguise,” Duncan eventually nodded, then slowly rose from the coffin and cautiously descended from the platform. His movements were sluggish because this body wasn’t particularly useful. “It seems that disrupting cognition and aiding symbiotes in concealing their identities is a talent of yours. Is this a common technique for all of you? However, I must say, your disguising skill is not very reliable. I’ve never seen a flawless execution…”

“Stop!” The female cultist finally reacted. She abruptly retreated several steps, then pointed at Duncan, her voice mingled with another deep, raspy tone, as if another spellcaster was reciting a curse through her throat, “I strip you of your ability to move and command you to halt right here!”

Duncan ultimately stepped down from the platform, took two more leisurely strides forward, and curiously observed the woman not far away, “So, this is the so-called ‘curse’ that the Annihilation Sect borrowed from the demons?

“Well, I must admit, it is indeed more sophisticated than I anticipated.

“However, it appears that its effectiveness is not as impressive as I had imagined—at least it doesn’t startle me as much as it should like Meteor Dog would.”