Deep Sea Embers chapter-820-forgery

In theory, Anomaly 077 didn’t conform to the traditional definition of a deceased being. Despite this, the crew unanimously agreed that it was worth an attempt – that they should at least try.

Therefore, approximately twelve minutes later, Sailor found himself unexpectedly jolted from his slumber in a secluded corner of the lower deck by a sudden surge of frantic and disorderly footsteps. As he opened his eyes, the sight that greeted him was the captain, urgently leading the entire crew in his direction. Before Sailor had a chance to gather his thoughts, Vanna swiftly approached and, grabbing him by the collar, lifted him off the ground.

Witnessing such an unprecedented scenario, Sailor experienced a chill of fear and anticipation run through him as he caught the eager and intense gazes of his shipmates. Attempting to retreat, he stammered, “I… I was merely seeking a quiet spot to rest, surely that doesn’t breach any crew regulations… And even if it somehow does, you can’t all possibly be thinking of reprimanding me through physical means, can you?”

“Quit your feigning; you’re incapable of sleep anyway,” Duncan emerged from the throng, scrutinizing Anomaly 077 closely, “There’s a matter of utmost importance that requires your attention.”

“A matter of utmost importance?” Sailor, puzzled, swiftly straightened his attire and adjusted his stance, alert to Vanna’s impending actions (he remained apprehensive that the formidable and attractive woman might unintentionally inflict harm on him with a mere touch) and inquired with curiosity, “What matter could that be? Haven’t we just reached the domain of the God of Death? Are we considering retreat already?”

Duncan dismissed the question with a gesture, cutting directly to the core of the issue: “The reason is precisely because we’ve arrived at the domain of the God of Death – we now necessitate a deceased individual to attempt to awaken the guide here.”

Confounded, Sailor needed a moment to digest this information, then, turning his bewildered gaze towards Dog in the corner, he uttered, “…What?”

“In simpler terms, due to the ‘decay’ affecting the God of Death, the process governing death in the mortal realm has ceased. Consequently, with the cessation of this process, no new deceased are arriving in this barren landscape, leading to the absence of both the gatekeeper and the Path of No Return,” Dog elucidated with patience, despite being unclear why he was the one providing the explanation, “The ‘entrance’ to the God of Death’s realm is concealed within a location that can only be accessed through a specific ‘guidance ritual’. Our current objective is to reawaken the gatekeeper here – to put it bluntly, we require a deceased individual.”

With a slightly better understanding, Sailor paused for a moment of silent contemplation before hesitantly pointing towards himself and stating, somewhat confusedly: “I’m not entirely deceased, though… although it’s true that I’ve been heading in that direction. Why not consider Lady Agatha for this task? She appears to be more deceased than I am, considering I still possess some physical form, whereas her soul seems even more diminished…”

“We’ve deliberated over it, and concluded that neither Agatha, Vanna, nor Shirley meet the necessary criteria,” Morris interjected with a sigh, his gaze fixed on the somewhat desiccated figure before him with a mixture of emotions, “However, it seems you don’t quite meet the criteria either – while you are technically a corpse, there are many like you who remain active in the mortal world today. Such ‘undead’ beings appear incapable of drawing the ‘gatekeeper’s’ notice.”

“Given the current situation, it’s uncertain whether the ‘gatekeeper’ of the realm of death still exists,” Sailor commented with a shrug. “They might have vanished along with the ‘decay’ that affected Bartok. After all, these ‘gatekeepers’ are fundamentally intertwined with the death mechanism itself…”

Morris wore a look of contemplation, his brow furrowed in thought, when Duncan’s attention was drawn to a shadow on the wall that appeared to tremble slightly. With curiosity sparking in his eyes, he inquired, “Agatha? Is something the matter?”

Breaking the lingering silence, Agatha proposed, “I was wondering… perhaps we could simulate a state of death using ‘Sailor’ as a model to determine if the ‘gatekeeper’ of this realm still lingers among us. It might just work.”

Duncan, caught off guard, questioned, “…You believe that’s possible?”

“I once served as a ‘gatekeeper,’ albeit in the realm of the living. However, there’s a sort of ‘mirror’ effect between the gatekeepers of the living and those of the dead, reflecting the ‘symmetry’ inherent to the God of Death,” Agatha elaborated. “During my training, which remains vivid in my memory, I learned how to ‘communicate’ with the gatekeepers of the dead world once a soul departs its mortal coil. These ‘conversations’ revealed that the judgments of the ‘other side’s gatekeepers’ concerning the deceased are not infallible. At times, they mistakenly linger around those who are not yet dead, and such ‘errors’… can be manipulated.”

Shirley, catching up with the conversation, expressed her concern: “Wait, is that even permissible? It sounds rather dark!”

“Absolutely not, it’s blasphemous,” Agatha responded with a casual shrug. “To deceive the emissary of divinity and disrupt the balance of life and death, to the extent of beckoning death itself – ordinarily, such acts would merit a death sentence.”

Shirley quickly interjected with a question: “I’m curious, for a priest of death, would such a sentence be considered a promotion or a dismissal…”

Duncan gestured for Shirley to hold her thoughts, silencing her speculative query (despite having pondered it himself), and then directed his gaze towards Agatha: “Is this really okay?”

“It’s fine. Given that the very fabric of life and death has unraveled, along with the old doctrines and the authority they once held… who besides me even remembers them?” Agatha mused, her shadow casting a seemingly rueful smile in the flickering light, “Besides, no one is left to pass such a sentence on me.”

After a brief pause, observing the indistinct shadow, Duncan nodded in agreement: “Alright, let’s proceed. What are our first steps?”

“Firstly, we must distance ourselves from the Vanished. Aboard this vessel, not even the ‘gatekeeper’s’ gaze can pierce through,” Agatha stated promptly. “Next, we require ‘Sailor’s’ cooperation. I will transform him into the likeness of a ‘deceased,’ though he need not do anything except follow my guidance. And finally… this is for Sailor.”

Her attention then shifted to Anomaly 077, who was nearby: “You must remember, regardless of what appears before you, do not follow it – the allure of the gatekeeper’s beckoning is irresistible to the deceased. Even though you aren’t truly dead and possess the capacity to resist, it will undoubtedly be a formidable challenge.”

“Rest assured, I won’t be lured away,” Anomaly 077 declared with confidence, patting his chest for emphasis, “I’ve found my place here on the Vanished; there’s no reason for me to leave it…”

“But what if, at the journey’s end along the Path of No Return, you encounter the crew of the Sea Song?” Agatha posed the question with a serene tone. “What if you come face to face with the captain of the Sea Song?”

The atmosphere became noticeably more somber at her inquiry.

Sailor, too, fell into silence, the figure of the desiccated corpse remaining motionless. However, just as Duncan anticipated a moment of doubt, Sailor instead shook his head with even greater resolve, stating, “I won’t be swayed to follow her.”

“Are you certain? We must treat this with utmost seriousness,” Agatha pressed further for assurance.

“I’m certain,” Sailor affirmed with a grin, an air of confidence about him, “Captain Caraline entrusted me with a message for the city-state, along with the navigation course – she would never expect me to follow her. That’s not what she would have wanted.”

“…Very well, then we have no issue.” Agatha acknowledged with a nod.

Amidst the chaotic whisper of the cold wind under the night sky, the black and white tall grasses danced in the wind. A paper boat descended gracefully from the Vanished, coming to rest on the barren ground. Here, Duncan was the first to disembark, stepping onto the desolate terrain of the realm of death.

Following him, Agatha’s indistinct silhouette seemed to barely touch down as she “floated” from the ship, landing gracefully beside him.

Sailor was the last to leave the ship – his exit less graceful, resulting in a tumble that produced an odd crack from his hip upon landing.

“Damn… I really should have considered metal joints before embarking on this journey,” Sailor grumbled, readjusting his dislocated joint before limping over, “Is this the place? What comes next?”

Agatha glanced back at the small boat, now silent among the wild grass, with only Lucretia’s silhouette visible on it. The rest of the crew remained on the Vanished, a precaution to avoid a recurrence of the “Island of Ashes” incident.

Turning her attention to their surroundings, Agatha pointed to a specific spot: “Simple, just lie down here.”

Sailor, without any hesitation or objection, complied and lay down in the designated spot, indifferent to the chill of the ground as the tall black and white grasses enveloped him.

“…This feels like my own funeral,” Sailor commented, a tinge of somberness in his voice, “These grasses encircling me, they’re like the walls of a coffin.”

Agatha didn’t acknowledge Sailor’s musings.

After ensuring he was positioned correctly, she took a moment to center herself, focusing her energy. Gradually, her initially indistinct and ghostly figure began to gain clarity.

A faint green glow emerged within her, momentarily casting a light upon her form, transforming her from a mere shadowy presence into a semi-transparent, spectral being. Though still ethereal, she now appeared capable of performing the next “ritual”.

A staff, conjured from the depths of her memory, materialized in her hand.

“…This feels oddly familiar,” Agatha murmured to herself, looking at the staff with a mixture of nostalgia and resolve. She then commenced circling Sailor, her staff lightly touching the ground as she moved.

As Agatha traced her path along the ground, pale flames ignited from the lines she drew, ascending to form a triangular shape against the monochrome backdrop of the black, white, and gray terrain.

Sailor, positioned at the heart of the triangle, became enveloped in a silence born of apprehension, his anticipation rendering him still as he braced for the imminent proceedings.

With deliberate care, Agatha commenced the inscription of numerous arcane runes encircling the triangle. Each symbol was crafted with precision, marking a ritual she hadn’t performed in ages.

“From this point forward, remain silent and avoid wandering eyes; the dead neither speak nor gaze upon the world around them. You might perceive someone calling your name or witness strange lights before you, yet these are mere deceptions, unworthy of your focus,” Agatha paused momentarily, standing over Sailor’s prone form at the triangle’s epicenter, her gaze fixed upon the desiccated figure, “Eventually, a twilight-like glow, the sole ‘hue’ amidst this realm of death, will emerge. Subsequently, the ‘gatekeeper’ of this domain shall make an appearance. Heed my instructions carefully; do not succumb to his allure – leave the negotiations to the captain and myself.”