Chapter 304: Mud at the Bottom Cabin

That was the “captain” of the Obsidian, Christo Babelli—a mass of chaotic matter that was almost unrecognizable as a human, an accumulation of... imitations that had emerged from the deep sea.

He seemed to be oblivious to his own state, and... his thoughts appeared somewhat disjointed.

He lacked awareness of time and had no awareness of his own bodily distortion. Yet, despite lacking vision and touch, the creature seemed unusually composed, as if... he was trapped in some strange state of lethargy.

That slightly squirming, expanding, and contracting mass of biological tissue was still emitting a hoarse, low-pitched voice. “Christo Babelli” greeted those entering the room, inquiring about the current state of the Obsidian and what had transpired.

Upon witnessing this bizarre and frightening scene, Nina let out a muffled gasp of surprise before covering her mouth with one hand and retreating several steps back.

This scene was a bit too intense for the seventeen-year-old girl.

“The Obsidian had an accident, but we still don’t know the cause,” Duncan replied to the “Captain Christo” while contemplating how to address the situation. “We were just passing by.”

“Ah, that’s unfortunate... I’ve been trapped here, entirely unaware of the ship’s status,” the mass of biological tissue adhered to the door panel lamented. “Is everything else okay? What about the crew and passengers? Have you found them?”

“... No, but we haven’t found any bodies either. They might have already escaped,” Duncan said nonchalantly. “Only this room was locked, and we heard you knocking.”

“I’ve been knocking on this door; it’s the only thing I can touch in the darkness,” said Captain Christo. “May the storm goddess Gomona bless them, as long as the others are safe...”

The northern city-states were under the dominion of the god of death, Bartok, but on the Boundless Sea, the storm goddess’s authority was unquestionably supreme—captains would pray to the storm goddess regardless of their origin or faith.

Upon hearing the other party’s prayers, Vanna and Morris frowned in unison.

How could this warped... entity still correctly mention the deity’s name and even pray with a lucid mind?

Duncan noticed this as well and recalled some information about the Abyss Plan he had gleaned from his earlier conversation with Tyrian.

During the Abyss Plan’s loss of control, the clones that surfaced from the “Number Three Submersibles” emerging one after another from the deep sea had no reasoning or communication abilities.

Even the earliest clone, the one that appeared most human-like, had only uttered a few indistinct murmurs!

This had been a critical piece of information from the beginning. Based on this, Tyrian had deduced that the uncontrolled supernatural phenomenon in Frost’s ocean could only generate imitations devoid of reason or soul. However, despite seemingly having some cognitive impairments, this mass of... warped matter before them clearly possessed normal reasoning and memory and could even communicate effectively with others.

Where had the problem arisen?

Was it because the Obsidian was not like the “Number Three Submersibles,” as initially suspected, a duplicate? Was it because the twisted phenomena on this ship had a different cause? Or had the out-of-control supernatural phenomenon in Frost’s water undergone new changes after half a century, and the imitations it created now began to possess intelligence?

Or...

Duncan quietly glanced at the “Captain Christo” attached to the door panel.

Or was it that the captain’s consciousness was genuinely inside this mass of biological tissue—for whatever reason, his soul had been inserted into this distorted imitation.

The more Duncan pondered, the more he believed this was the most plausible explanation.

Morris raised his head, looked at the faintly discernible top of the passage in the interlaced light and shadow, and said thoughtfully.

Above the passage, the chaotic overlapping structures could be vaguely recognized: handrails of stairs, cabin doors from unknown origins, mechanical structures, pipes and wires, and even tables and chairs.

If the upper cabins could still reveal some semblance of a normal structure, this slope leading to the depths of the Obsidian was nothing short of a jumble of everything smashed and glued together, like a chaotic, interwoven nightmare, constantly extending into the bowels of this steel beast.

“It seems that the closer it is to the ‘duplicate’s’ center, the lower the accuracy of the duplication,” Vanna said, and then added, “If this ship is really a duplicate like the ‘Number Three Submersible.’”

“When we get back, I want to talk to Tyrian,” Duncan casually said ahead, “He might be interested in what happened to the Obsidian.”

“But I think he’ll be scared half to death by you first,” Vanna couldn’t help but mutter, “I’ve talked to him, and I feel like he has quite a significant psychological shadow.”

Duncan slowed down, looked back at Vanna.

Vanna suddenly felt a bit awkward: “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Duncan laughed, “I’m just amazed that you can finally talk to me normally—this feels right.”

Vanna opened her mouth as if she wanted to say something more, but at that moment, the light emitted by Ai in front suddenly dimmed, and then the field of view in everyone’s eyes widened.

The passage had come to an end.

There was indeed a large open space below.

“Is it a cargo hold?” Morris frowned, looking at the open and dim space in front of him. He saw that the space was flat and open, incredibly “neat” compared to the incredibly chaotic slope they had just traversed, but he couldn’t determine the space’s original purpose.

“Could it be that the deepest part of this ghost ship is just an empty cavity?” Nina looked around and muttered nervously, “With everything piled up on the upper two levels?”

No one could answer her question.

Alice looked around curiously, taking a few steps forward.

“Huh?”

Miss Puppet suddenly halted, emitted a brief gasp, and looked in astonishment at the ground beneath her feet while rubbing her shoe’s sole on the side.

“I think I stepped on something!” She turned her head back and innocently spoke to Duncan, “It’s sticky and somewhat nauseating...”

“Sticky?” Duncan furrowed his brow, promptly approached Alice’s side, and examined the spot where her foot had just landed.

He observed a dark, sludge-like substance, with Alice’s faint shoe print visible in the thick and sticky material.

However, the shoe print was vanishing quickly.

This “sludge” was squirming!

It was alive!