Ashes Of Deep Sea
Chapter 510 - Chapter 510 Chapter 511 The Dietary Culture of Elves

Chapter 510: Chapter 511: The Dietary Culture of Elves Chapter 510: Chapter 511: The Dietary Culture of Elves The door to the captain’s quarters swung open, and Duncan stepped into the room. The goat-headed creature in charge of navigating the Homeloss immediately reacted, turning its head towards him with a squeaking creak.

“Duncan Ebnomal, I’ve answered ahead of time.” Duncan spoke proactively even before the creature had a chance, then headed straight to the corner liquor cabinet and casually poured himself a small glass of strong liquor which he downed in one gulp.

The spicy and stimulating flavor burned down his nerves, appearing to genuinely offer some comfort. Duncan breathed a small sigh of relief, feeling a slight calm settle over him before turning to scrutinize the navigational charts on display, displaying routes that continued to extend southward.

The goat-headed creature’s head slowly rotated with Duncan’s movements, seemingly watching the captain’s every move with caution. After a long while, it finally hesitated to break the silence, “Captain, you don’t seem to be in good spirits… do you need me to tell you a few jokes? I’m quite good at Elves-style humor. Many people think this race is solemn and serious, but in reality, they possess a unique sense of humor, such as…”

“It’s not about my mood, and I don’t want to hear jokes.” Duncan waved a hand dismissively, but he knew that the goat-head truly wanted to help lighten his mood, so he didn’t say much more; he simply sat down quietly, appearing to study the lines and markers on the sea chart with undivided attention.

Yet his thoughts unavoidably scattered.

In the end, he still hadn’t found more answers in his own bachelor apartment–the computer that had entered a strange state no longer responded to any further questions he inputted, maintaining its usual silence, as if the sudden appearance of the moon image before was nothing more than an illusion he had conjured up himself.

However, even without additional answers, Duncan had come to realize that he had indeed touched upon that crucial… part.

The “moon” of his home world appeared in this bizarre, twisted world, even if it was just a “model,” a painting, or even a concept, it was enough to prove one thing:

The “two worlds” he once believed to be completely isolated weren’t as distinct as he had imagined.

But there was no one to share these secrets with, no one to analyze this matter with him, including the unconditionally trusting Alice, or the looking ever-loyal goat-headed creature on the table.

Duncan exhaled softly, lifted his gaze, and saw the goat-head still watching him intently, its obsidian eyes seemingly deep with endless dark shadows.

“Captain, you can always trust your first officer,” it said seriously.

“I know, but you can’t help with all problems,” Duncan gently shook his head, but this time, his expression softened slightly, “Your heart is in the right place. Still, let’s discuss our journey–we’ll soon head to the southern Elven City-State. What do you know about the Elves?”

“I remember them…” the goat-head started speaking rapidly, as if it had been brewing words in its mind, but after a moment, it hesitated and then continued, “Ah well, I don’t have much contact with them, but I know that Elves have a high talent in mathematics and mechanics, as well as a unique historical heritage and some eccentric beliefs and customs. However, what Elves are more commonly known for is their peculiar understanding of ‘fine dining’…”

“Their understanding of ‘fine dining’?” Duncan furrowed his brows, “That seems quite meaningful?”

“Elves’ taste buds are different from other races, so they always make radical local modifications to any foreign cuisine that comes their way,” the goat-head explained diplomatically, “which is why I wanted to warn Miss Nina beforehand, hoping she wouldn’t have too high expectations for the sweet pancakes at Light Breeze Harbor. While people say Light Breeze Harbor brings together foods from city-states around the civilized world–they neglect to mention how Elves mix them all together.”

Duncan: “?”

“In short, Elves will stuff spicy peppers and fermented, bubbling-aged cheese into sweet pancakes–ending up with a flavor that shocks the soul. Personally, I think it’s quite creative, and at least it’s more normal than honey-glazed pork intestine and sour-spicy sheep eyeball pie.”

Duncan listened with a deadpan face, then slowly began to speak, “It seems Nina is going to be disappointed in the upcoming southern journey…”

…

Lucresia sat in Taran El’s study, watching across the table as the renowned Elven scholar flipped rapidly through a mountain of documents while stuffing egg rolls into his mouth with an expressionless face, devouring them.

The astounding odor of the egg rolls kept provoking the nerves of the “Sea Witch.”

It was a traditional Elven convenience food, the main ingredients being dough, eggs, fermented cheese, and a type of fungi known as “Blackfinger Mushrooms.” It smelt a bit like severely rotten wood and tasted similar; the pickled “Blackfinger Mushrooms” had a terrible texture and smell akin to that of an old rag–by Lucresia’s standards, it was hardly considered food.

But it was Master Taran El’s favorite, not only because it suited the Elven palate but also because it was quick and easy to eat–a scholar unafraid of sudden death could solve a meal in three minutes, satisfying basic nutritional needs with three servings a day, leaving all remaining time for ceaseless research work and wits’ games with doctors.

“Oh, found it–I told you it was here…”

Taran El finally crammed the last bite of the egg roll into his mouth, speaking inarticulately as he struggled to swallow, while carefully extracting some bound documents from the teetering “little mountain” of mess. The pile swayed dangerously with his movements, looking like it might collapse at any moment, but ultimately regained balance in an even more precarious position than before.

“Here you go, Miss Lucresia, the materials you requested regarding the Ancient Crete Kingdom and the anomaly

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are all here–if you had come to me yesterday, I would have found them immediately, before they got buried in this ‘mountain’…”

Lucresia reached out to take the documents, but couldn’t help glancing at the elf scholar opposite her. By age, Taran El was in an elf’s “golden age.” He had just entered middle age and, with a bit of grooming, there was no doubt he would be an elegant scholar that captivated countless young girls. However, his work habits of neglecting sleep and food had completely ruined all that.

In most cases (like now), the elf master’s image was characterized by huge bags under his eyes, dark circles, messy hair that fell out daily (once golden, but now more like yellowing straw in texture and color), and a ghastly pallor.

Lucresia had worried more than once that the esteemed scholar might drop dead right in front of her, but fortunately or miraculously, Mr. Taran El was still tenaciously alive today.

“I highly, highly suggest you pay attention to your health,” the “Witch of the Sea” sighed, casually flipping through the materials in her hand while speaking, “even if it’s just to extend your lifespan for research, it’s time you took care of yourself.”

“I do pay attention,” Taran El responded offhandedly, then corrected himself with precision, “I mean, at least more attention than before–but special times call for special measures, Miss Lucresia. You should know what the fragments shedding from the anomaly

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mean to the civilized world. We must understand its secrets, and the sooner, the better…”

“But it’s quite clear we’ve hit a bottleneck now, and until a new breakthrough emerges, your ‘neglecting sleep and food’ seems largely futile,” Lucresia lifted her eyelids, “unless we find someone from the Ancient Crete Kingdom, or a manual that directly explains the process of the anomaly

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birth. Otherwise, I suggest you rest for a few days.”

Taran El waved his hand in annoyance, as if to offer a rebuttal but finding no arguments to counter with. After a few seconds of sulky silence, he suddenly recalled something, raising his head hesitantly, “Miss Lucresia, as far as I know… your father is coming, and he’s coming for that ‘fallen object’?”

“Yes, he set off immediately after hearing about the ‘extraterrestrial object,’ seemingly attaching great importance to it,” Lucresia said, her expression somewhat awkward, “I was completely unprepared for it–in fact, I still haven’t come to terms with it mentally. But why do you suddenly bring this up?”

“Your father immediately set off upon learning about the ‘fallen object.’ Clearly, he knows something. Miss Lucresia, do you think… he could be the ‘breakthrough’? Perhaps he knows what the stone sphere at the center of the Luminous Geometric Body is, or maybe he understands the specific link between the Ancient Crete Kingdom and the anomaly

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, or even…”

“Master Taran El,” Lucresia interrupted the elf scholar, “You might be mistaken about something. My father is an outstanding adventurer; he might just be interested in the ‘curiosity’ itself. And please don’t forget, he has spent a century in Subspace. Even I and my brother have to be extremely cautious in dealing with him, and yet your attitude right now is way too… optimistic and bold.”

Taran El laughed, “Ah, then in your opinion, which has a higher mortality rate–my unhealthy lifestyle or the bold interaction with your father?”

Lucresia’s eye twitched, she opened her mouth as if to say something, but just at that moment, a sudden noise and shouts coming in from outside interrupted what she was about to say.

“The sun! The sun has been extinguished!”