Ashes Of Deep Sea
Chapter 533 - Chapter 533 Chapter 534 Moment of Prayer

Chapter 533: Chapter 534: Moment of Prayer Chapter 533: Chapter 534: Moment of Prayer The man’s heart finally settled down.

He had fled the building corroded by the Subspace Shadow, fleeing those terrifying mirrors and the burning flames, and arrived at a gathering place watched over and blessed by The Saint. Trusted comrades surrounded him now, the flickering lights transmitting a comforting power while like-minded individuals gradually dissolved all his panic and tension.

It seemed that nothing frightening would happen.

Thus, the man in the black thick coat took a long breath, then picked up the cup of water Duncan had handed him, ready to moisten his somewhat dry throat from all the running.

But just as he picked up the cup and saw the rippling water, he felt a bit uneasy, a vague anxiety rising from the depths of his heart, so he put the cup back down.

Clearly, this was a “hangover” from the previous terrifying experience. He figured he’d better not touch any drinks in cups for at least a few hours–if really necessary, he would find a straw later.

“So, what exactly happened?” asked the heretic with straw-colored hair and a grim face, who had just handed him the water, quite concerned, “What trouble did you run into?”

Around the round table, other believers also turned their gaze this way, all with curious yet serious expressions on their faces.

“That Dreamscape… the one the Doomsday Preacher mentioned, ‘The Dream of the Nameless,’ it had intricate structures and was protected by a barrier,” the man in the black coat sighed, his voice trembling, “The entrance didn’t ‘naturally present itself,’ and I don’t know how it went for other comrades who tried to enter, but I was blocked, even the solar remnants were kept out, but that’s not the worst part…”

The man suddenly stopped, looking somewhat puzzled at the “comrade” sitting next to him, his brows slightly furrowing, “Duncan, are you alright? You look rather pale…”

“Me? I feel fine,” the heretic with straw-colored hair laughed, his laugh sounding a bit hoarse, “You’re too tense.”

“You really are too tense. Duncan has always looked this sickly,” another person beside the round table shook his head, “Go on, what was the worst part–common situations wouldn’t make you react this way.”

“…Duncan Ebnomal, the curse ghost from Subspace,” the man in black began with a shudder, “he interfered in the ‘The Dream of the Nameless.'”

The meeting room fell suddenly silent, as if an invisible frost wind swept through, making the air in this basement suddenly appear dense and still.

In this unbearable sudden silence, the man in black felt an overwhelming pressure, but he quickly adjusted his emotions and continued, “I first encountered a tricky psychiatrist who broke through my ‘psychology chamber,’ and later in the open area of The Dream of the Nameless, I met an even trickier ‘Sea Witch’–things didn’t seem too bad yet, the solar remnants stalled the witch’s actions, but suddenly, Duncan Ebnomal appeared…

“The ghost messed up everything, those solar remnants and their ‘blood kin’ were no match at all, the outside information was wrong, Duncan Ebnomal and the ‘Sea Witch’ are not enemies–they communicated in front of me, their relationship much more amicable than outsiders speculate.

“Do you remember the message from Frost? I even suspect… that the Exiled Fleet has never disbanded at all, that the Brilliant Starship and Sea Mist had been executing the ghost’s orders in secret all along, and this time… I accidentally uncovered their secret, that ghost and his two children were certainly also paying attention to ‘The Dream of the Nameless’…”

The man in black spoke rapidly; his mind was more active than ever, recasting and interconnecting the previous terrifying experiences with various pieces of intelligence subtly transmitted through various channels lately, finally forming a convincing–at least to himself–chain of logic. In this statement, he felt he had finally straightened out his messy thoughts–and understood everything.

However, a gaze as substantial as matter suddenly cast from across the round table interrupted the man in black’s discourse.

“Wait,” the owner of the gaze, an authoritative elderly man with white-flecked hair and piercing eyes, his voice deep yet bearing a hint of severity of a leader spoke, “Are you saying you encountered that Subspace Shadow in The Dream of the Nameless, and that It has marked you?”

“Yes… yes,” the man in black replied nervously, instinctually fearful under the “messenger’s” scrutinous eye but still forging ahead with his response, “It tracked me to the real world and tried to infiltrate my hideout through mirrors, but I managed to discover the pattern of its invasion into the real world and blocked those ‘channels’…”

He said this quickly, and finally began to feel that icy chill from the “messenger’s” gaze. His dull, numb mind finally caught on–he finally noticed the persistent noise in his own mind and the invisible writhing at the edges of his vision.

Slowly, he stood up, his muscles trembling slightly. He inadvertently brushed against the nearest “comrade”–that person looked up at him, offering a friendly smile. However, within that smile lay an indistinct, undefinable flavor.

The man in black felt an inexplicable tightness in his heart and began hesitantly and nervously, “Duncan, why does your complexion look even worse than before…”

The withered-haired, sickly-featured “Annihilator Heretic” sighed, somewhat regretfully shaking his head.

“Annihilator Heretics– from a certain perspective, your peculiar ‘symbiotic ecology’ actually has a natural resistance to me, because Profound Demons are very sensitive and lack sufficient intelligence to weigh pros and cons. So, it only takes a very short time for these demons to collapse, and then, ‘vessels’ transformed from you as materials will be damaged. At best, they can only last for about ten minutes…”

The one called “Duncan” spoke unhurriedly, and as he did, a slight crackling noise emanated from his entire body. A dimly discernible dark shadow seemed to struggle and dissipate behind him, while his body quickly became covered in black cracks, crumbling and falling away bit by bit.

Duncan slowly spread his hands; the Profound Demon symbiotic with this body had died, and the body was gradually turning to ashes.

“But the good news is, even though it was a short time, I still heard quite a few useful things.”

The body completely crumbled to ash, and in the flickering dim light, countless specks of black ash silently scattered.

The man in black watched this scene in terror. In those brief seconds, he couldn’t make out whether fear, remorse, or anger surged first in his heart, but then he suddenly snapped to his senses and looked up at the “messenger” sitting across the round table, “I am guilty–”

“You are guilty.”

The white-haired “messenger” spoke emotionlessly, raising his hand and pointing forward. In the darkness, silent and invisible shadows abruptly appeared, then quietly vanished in the meeting hall. In just that brief instant, the “guilty” man in black had already bowed his head, slumping lifelessly in his chair.

A few seconds later, his body burst into flames quickly, and black flames engulfed his flesh, emitting bursts of nauseating smells.

The heretics in the meeting hall watched silently, not a single sound uttered until the burning black ashes completely collapsed. Then, a tall figure hesitantly broke the silence, “Messenger, we…”

The person called “messenger” did not respond. This pale-haired cult leader just serenely swept his gaze over everyone in the room, then expressionlessly stood up and moved to close the entrance of the meeting hall, locking the emergency escape door, and then muttered prayers in front of both doors–a dark thorn bush quickly grew with his prayer and instantly sealed the doors.

Seeing this, the skinny heretic who had guided the guests earlier stood up quickly, “Messenger! What are you doing–”

“Duncan was one of our earliest members,” the cult leader said calmly, his eyes sweeping past the two piles of black ashes around the round table, “when do you think he was ‘transformed’?”

The room was filled with looks of realization mingling with horror as the Annihilator Heretics looked at each other, finally catching on one by one.

“He’s among us,” the messenger returned to the front of the round table, looking at the believers gathered there, slowly stating, “at any moment, any person, any face–he has already infiltrated.”

“What should we do?” someone at the round table asked.

“From now on, don’t discuss the secrets of the Saint, don’t share information about the cult–with our mundane bodies, we cannot contend with the Subspace Shadow, but the Saint will still witness our courage and resilience. We will not reveal any information to that ghost, no matter what kinds of threats and deceits he imposes here…”

The messenger spoke slowly, then spread his hands wide, continuing solemnly as if preaching–

“I will find a way to transmit information about that Subspace Phantom, including his methods of infiltration and powers of deception, while I will stay here with you, as you see, I’ve already sealed all the passages.

“Believers, the time to prove your loyalty to the Saint has come; let us pray–in the profound depths of his realm, the Saint’s blessings will grant our souls eternity. All of today’s suffering will be compensated in that eternal realm.

“Now, begin praying.”