Ashes Of Deep Sea-Chapter 289 - 293: The Hunt and the Escape
Chapter 289 -293: The Hunt and the Escape
In the moment Duncan uttered the words “ignorance is bliss,” the woman in the black dress had already reacted!
But this time, she did not attempt any futile acts of combat. Instead, she grasped the chain beneath the Reaper Priest’s feet with one hand while swinging the other behind her, conjuring up a vague mist in the air, then turned and ran towards the entrance of the cemetery!
She could no longer worry about her companion whose body had been taken over, nor the other two accomplices who were entangled with the guard. The strange events of the night had surpassed her understanding, even as a Heretic in Demon Symbiosis with a Profound Demon, she was on the verge of losing her reason and courage.
Leave this place, the farther, the better, the faster, the better! Do not continue to stay within the invisible and indescribable sight of the invaders, do not continue to coexist with that horrifying shadow!
Duncan frowned, not yet fully accustomed to the new body he had just occupied. Although he could distinctly feel this body was in better health than the one in the coffin, he still found it difficult to keep up with the running figure.
Still, he stepped forward to give chase, cutting through the strange mist summoned by the fleeing figure while adapting to the new body and focusing his gaze on the woman’s shabby figure.
As he watched, the gas lamps she passed began to flicker, and a touch of dark green suddenly stained the previously bright and steady flames.
The gas lamps polluted by the Usurping Flame followed the escaping Heretic like invisible footsteps, rapidly stretching towards the entrance of the cemetery and sprinkling a trail of green sparks along the way, growing closer and more abundant!
But just as the green flames scattered among the street lamps were about to catch up with the Heretic, the Skeleton Monstrous Bird assembled from dark bone fragments suddenly shrieked and took to the air. Its angular skeletal wings scattered large swathes of smoke in the night sky, and its sharp cries seemed to tear a small rift in time and space. Duncan saw a series of vague fissures suddenly emerge from the shadows beside the Heretic, which then merged into a massive black hole—
The Skeleton Monstrous Bird screamed madly and desperately rushed toward the dark hole that had appeared out of nowhere. The chain extending from its foot was pulled taut in an instant, and, amidst the grating noise, the woman in the black dress was violently dragged toward the opening.
“Damn it! Stop! You bastard! You beast!” the Heretic struggled uncontrollably, her voice altered with uncontrollable fear and desperation, “No no no! Don’t—don’t take me to the Profound… Help, help! No! No—”
With a final scream, the Heretic was finally pulled into the pitch-black void by the chains, and the opening violently closed up, vanishing into a trembling shadow.
The tombstones whispered and flickered green in the empty cemetery path.
“That is quite an original escape route,” Duncan stated, somewhat bewildered by the abrupt scene. He smirked after a long pause, as if suddenly recalling something, “Did Sherry and Dog escape this way too… But I remember she wasn’t scared at all back then, was she?”
He furrowed his brows, looking in the direction where the Heretic had vanished, but after pondering for a moment, he came up with nothing and withdrew his gaze.
The gas lamps tinged with eerie green also returned to normal quickly as his gaze was retracted, like the reeling back of tendrils of shadow into the dark beneath his feet.
A faint crackling sound reached Duncan’s ears at that moment.
He looked towards the source of the noise in confusion only to discover it was coming from his own body—the fine crackling noise was emanating from all over, and through the gaps in his clothes, he could see whisps of fine black smoke seeping out and rising.
Duncan was momentarily stunned, unsure what this new development meant. He then hastily pulled open the clothes near his chest and finally saw the changes occurring in his body:
His flesh was gradually turning into a kind of black, charred substance, and his wrinkled skin was riddled with gaps from which black smoke and ashes were rising, as if emanating from a pile of smoldering charcoal.
If it weren’t for the fact that he had been baptized with “open-heartedness” from the start, the eerie and terrifying sight before him would have greatly impacted Duncan. But he had long grown accustomed to such strange and ominous events, and now he remained particularly calm, even reaching out to touch near his throat.
It seemed the changes had begun at the throat—the previously chain-linked spot that had been in Symbiosis with a Profound Demon.
Duncan immediately thought back to the Profound Demon resembling a jellyfish and spontaneously combusting earlier.
After he had taken over this body, that “jellyfish” seemed to have gone on a hardcore strike due to unbearable stress, and now this Heretic body was starting to disintegrate, beginning at the chain-linked spot… Could it be that if the Symbiosis Demon died, the body would crumble too?
Was this a Trait of the Heretics?
Duncan instantaneously connected to the most likely possibility and even thought of Sherry and Dog—could the relationship between those two be similar?
He could ask Sherry for details after returning.
But first, he needed to think about what to do now.
Duncan looked at his rapidly disintegrating body somewhat helplessly, also recalling the body he had inhabited on rising from the coffin.
Although the reasons for disintegration were different, that body also seemed to experience the flesh falling apart in the end.
“…Finding a usable body is just so difficult,” he couldn’t help sighing, lamenting his bad luck, “It was much smoother back in Prand.”
He lifted his head, looking towards the wrought iron fence at the horizon—the cemetery entrance was just ahead, and beyond it seemed to be a vast expanse of desolate road. He would need to cross that deserted area before reaching the brightly lit, bustling city.
Frost’s civilized world was within sight, but this continuously decaying body would hardly hold up for the journey, and even if he made it to the city area now, his honor, crumbling and smoking with every step, could surely not gather any information without first attracting the night watchman.
He turned to glance at the cemetery again.
There were plenty lying in the morgue—but, first, it was hard to guarantee the quality, and second, opening the coffins was quite a hassle.
This was a true blind box experience, and he had already had enough trouble for one night.
After a brief moment of weighing his options, Duncan looked up towards the light at the other end of the path.
That should be in the direction of the watchman’s cabin.
Duncan remembered that there were two Heretics disguised as Reaper Priests, who had gone to the cabin with the watchman—although the man seemed stubborn and unfriendly, at least he was dedicated to his duty.
The Heretics, however, were not of the benevolent sort.
He started walking towards the lights at the end of the path.
…
Outside, there seemed to be some noise.
In the warm cabin of the watchman, the kettle on the stove was hissing, the gas lamp beside it illuminating the room with a bright light, as the old watchman leisurely fiddled with the bottles and jars on the wooden shelf, and his trustworthy double-barreled shotgun hung from a hook by the shelf.
Two men in black stood inside, watching the old man’s actions—one standing by the door, the other by the window.
But their attention was clearly not entirely on the watchman.
They were listening for any sounds coming from the direction of the cemetery entrance, waiting for a certain signal.
Instead of getting the “job done, time to evacuate” code, they only heard some faint and indistinct strange sounds coming from the direction of the path.
The last sound, a vague scream, was particularly unsettling.
“Did you hear anything?”
The old watchman suddenly stopped, looked up at the dirty, dim window that had weathered the years, and listened to the night sounds outside—there seemed to be nothing but the hollow howling of the wind.
“There’s no sound,” the tall and burly man by the door replied immediately, although he too felt somewhat uneasy, keeping the watchman inside the cabin was the higher priority at the moment, “Probably just a crow.”
This content is taken from fгee𝑤ebɳoveɭ.cøm.
“Oh, crows,” the old watchman muttered, “Crows are such a nuisance. They steal your food and then perch smugly on a branch, cawing loudly… I hate thieves, as well as unwelcome guests who impose themselves, and crows embody both.”
The two men in black exchanged a puzzled look, as if the old man’s sudden change of topic was somewhat nonsensical.
The old watchman, as if oblivious to their reaction, simply continued: “Did I ever tell you why I heeded that lady’s suggestion and brought you two to my cabin?”
The shorter man in black seemed to grow more alert, fixing his gaze on the watchman’s eyes: “Why?”
Finally finding what he was looking for among the array of jars and bottles, the old watchman twisted off a lid and began dumping some ground herbs into the stove, casually saying: “Because generally speaking, two are easier to handle than four.”
(First of all, thanks to “Zuo Yong The Motherland and Right Hold the KongHDaijiansen Ancient Moon” for the Silver Moe! That name is long…
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