Ashes Of Deep Sea
Chapter 414 - Chapter 414 Chapter 418 Approaching Midnight

Chapter 414: Chapter 418: Approaching Midnight Chapter 414: Chapter 418: Approaching Midnight Gunshots roared. Steam mechanisms powered the heavy mechanical spiders as they twisted their bodies. The six-barreled machine guns rotated, spewing angry tongues of fire, sweeping through the monsters that continually emerged from the mist. Every now and then, bullets flew from the dense fog, striking the walker’s armor and the sandbags lining the barricaded streets.

Among the monsters were also “soldiers,” fully armed troops, and even walkers oozing with black sludge.

As the battle dragged on, these dangerous enemies became more numerous.

“These damn things are replicating us!”

A soldier wearing a breathing mask shouted angrily from behind the barricade, wildly pulling the trigger. His metal armor was already scarred; the power tubing at the joints was damaged and hissing steam gushed from the valves while the insignia of the elite guard of the Frost City-State could be seen on the steam backpack behind him.

“They’re replicating more than just us,” the squad commander shouted loudly, his voice hoarse and somber behind the breathing mask–as the dense fog on the streets worsened, hormonal agents in the mist were suspected, so the guarding troops entering the battle zone now all wore these daunting breathing masks. “Every living thing that appears in the mist is an enemy, all of them!”

“I just saw a crowd run past the intersection ahead!” another solider suddenly yelled. “They looked like armed civilians–or perhaps sailors from a ship!”

“I saw them too, it was blurry, but they seemed ablaze, only the fire was green!”

Upon hearing this, the squad leader looked up. However, the next moment, a strange whistling sound suddenly came from the other side of the thick fog, carrying a sharp sound of death.

A grenade pierced through the mist, crossed the gap between the barricades, and plummeted right beneath the feet of the steam walker–there was no time to react. The grenade exploded, and shrapnel burst like rain.

The thin metal chest plate couldn’t block such a close deadly impact; the squad commander and his soldiers were blown away together.

After an indefinable period, he slightly regained consciousness; from the corner of his eye, he saw the steam walker wobbling as it fell, its armor torn, all its power tubing spewing white mist while the remaining turret snarled out its last spray of bullets.

Countless shadowy figures emerged from the fog, surging towards the next intersection.

The squad commander moved his body slowly, his hand firmly holding a grenade with the pin already pulled, unable to recall when he had grabbed it–perhaps it had been during the blast, or perhaps it was a subconscious reaction as he lost consciousness.

He felt as if he had used up all his strength, trying to throw the grenade toward that mist.

But he merely weakly released his grip.

The gray metallic cylinder slipped from his hand, clanging as it rolled down the street, its fuse hissing smoke as it rolled to the side of the road and fell into a dry gutter–passing through darkness, falling into a crack, sliding down an inclined ventilation shaft, plunging into the weathered underground world of the Frost City-State, where it detonated in the forgotten darkness with a roar.

“Boom!”

A muffled sound came from far above, the roof of the tunnel seemed to tremble slightly, shedding a bit of sand and floating dust.

The “sailor” suddenly shrank his neck, his gaunt face showing a hint of nervousness, “Is this place really not going to collapse?!”

“It hasn’t collapsed for the past few decades,” Lawrence strode forward, the gas lamps embedded in the walls of the corridors on both sides emitted a dim glow, lighting the way ahead, “As a mummy, how come you’re so timid? Shouldn’t you be the kind of ‘anomaly’ that scares others?”

“I think… digging such a huge underground space beneath the City-State is scary enough itself!” Anomaly 077’s tone was nervous, “What were you guys thinking…”

Lawrence shrugged, “How should I know? I wasn’t the one who dug it.”

Then he ignored the mummy and lowered his head to speak to the small mirror on his chest, “Martha, how’s it looking on your end?”

“Quite lively,” Martha’s voice came from the mirror, with the sound of distant explosions and cannon fire in the background, “After you entered the second waterway, the entire mirrored world went ‘crazy’–all the ships inside and outside the harbor have been firing at me.”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m not so easily sunk–but the problem is, the enemies don’t seem to sink that easily either, they keep replenishing from the reflections.”

Lawrence paused for a moment, then looked up towards the dark, deep corridor ahead.

“How far is it from here to the deepest part?” he asked.

“Quite far, but you can take a ‘shortcut.'”

Lawrence frowned, “Shortcut?”

“Notice those puddles on the ground? Find a road sign, then find the puddle closest to the road sign and look at the reflection inside.”

Puzzled, Lawrence followed Martha’s instructions and arrived at a required puddle, bending down to look at the reflection.

The reflection showed a crossroads, next to which on the wall hung a plaque that could vaguely be seen reading “Upper City District Main Drainage.”

He widened his eyes and looked up at the wall beside him.

On the wall next to him, the weathered plaque clearly read “Port Area Drainage.”

Martha’s voice came from the mirror, “Do you see? The world in the mirror is discontinuous.”

“…Unbelievable… just like a dreamscape…” Lawrence muttered to himself, looking down again at the puddle beneath his feet. Despite being one of the most experienced captains of the Endless Sea, he had to admit that everything in this mirrored city was beyond his imagination. However, he quickly regained his composure, “Then how should we use these ‘shortcuts’?”

“You have already arrived,” Martha said with a smile, “When you stand in front of this ‘mirror’ long enough, you are already there.”

Lawrence was startled and hurriedly looked up.

Before him was a crossroad, the dimly flickering gas lamps embedded in the corridor walls. According to the closest plaque, the mottled inscriptions were barely legible–

Upper City District Main Sewage Pipeline.

Exception 077 stared in astonishment at the suddenly changed surroundings, his eyes quickly scanning between the roadside plaque and the reflections in the puddle. It took him a while before he suddenly exclaimed, “Does this make sense?!”

A circle of sailors simultaneously turned their gaze toward this mummified body.

However, Lawrence was not concerned with the sailors’ reactions. He stared thoughtfully at the dimly lit corridor ahead, furrowing his brows after a long while and addressing Martha in confusion, “We are already on the second water route, but what about the ‘helpers’ you mentioned earlier? The Queen’s Guard who fight on the second water route?”

Gunfire echoed from the mirror, and Martha’s voice was delayed by a few seconds before reaching Lawrence’s ears, “Take the left fork, follow the red markers all the way, and stop when there is no more road… They will appear. When the time comes, they will appear.”

Lawrence frowned, “Time?”

“… The Queen’s Guard’s attack time is at midnight–every midnight. Before that time, they are invisible.”

…

In the “Golden Flute” tavern, in the secret room of the underground contact station, “Old Ghost” lying on the bed suddenly opened his eyes.

“What time is it…”

The old man’s gaze seemed a bit dazed, mumbling as if in a dream. Yet in the dimly lit room, his only response was a sporadic “beep” from some monitoring equipment and the faint, indistinct sound of gunfire coming from an unknown place.

The next second, Old Ghost’s eyes widened.

Faint, indistinct gunfire?

Gunfire!

The old man instantly awoke, the gunfire reaching his ears, ethereal and blurry, as if separated not just by thick walls and floors but also by decades of time–He quickly climbed out of bed and immediately grabbed something placed beside it.

It was a large wrench that he kept by his side even while sleeping.

It was both his tool and his weapon.

“The battle has started… There’s no time to sleep… It’s time to gather…”

Old Ghost muttered to himself, shivering as he put on his shoes and draped over a coat lying on the chair nearby before raising his head to look at the room he had just been sleeping in.

This was a secret room for communicating with the Mist Fleet. Nemo had arranged for him to rest here while keeping an eye on the equipment.

But the next second, Old Ghost seemed to forget everything related to this room. His eyes clouded over again, and he looked doubtfully toward the door not far from him.

“Oh! The door is here!”

Realization dawned on Old Ghost, a joyful expression appearing on his face. He quickly walked over and flung open the iron door leading to the underground passageway.

On the other side of the door was a narrow, chilly corridor, the lights within flickering intermittently, mixed with the hissing sound of insufficient gas supply from the pipes.

“The gas pipes are acting up… Not enough pressure? No, no, this isn’t the time to worry about that…” Old Ghost muttered to himself as he looked at the lights in the corridor, taking a step forward but then seeming to remember something. He turned back to look at the secret room he had just been resting in.

The room was empty.

Maybe everyone had gathered at the tavern underground.

“Crow, I’m heading out. Stay at home and be good!”

Old Ghost called out to the empty room, then turned around, carrying his ever-present large wrench, and slowly walked toward the deep, dark passageway.

He was heading toward the second water route.

The time for the Queen’s Guard to counterattack had come.