Ashes Of Deep Sea

Chapter 310: Chapter 314: On Dagger Island

East of Frost City-State, one could see a towering, rocky island from the cliffs at the edge of their vision—it was long and bent, resembling a slender curved knife or a strangely shaped dagger, its entirety covered with jagged rocks and barren sand. Consequently, the Frostfolk directly named this island based on its shape and called it “Dagger Island.”

Even in the vast Endless Sea, land was the most valuable resource, and no matter how desolate or narrow an isolated island might be, people would always find a way to make use of it. Dagger Island was no exception.

The island had fresh water sources but lacked arable land and enough flat, vast ground. It couldn’t serve as a stable residential area or food production zone, nor did it have usable plants and animals. However, once the island contained a small amount of boiling gold deposits, the Frostfolk established a mining field and a refinery there. After those traces of boiling gold were exhausted, it served as a transfer port for some time. Following the Frost rebellion, with adjustments to the surrounding sea routes, the island’s port was transformed into special storage facilities for dangerous things that must be kept away from the civilized world.

As time passed and the world’s fortunes rose and fell, the desolate island with its strange rocks changed hands between one administration after another. Now under the control of the Frost military, it had become a secret “temporary research base” used for studying the curious artifact retrieved from the deep sea.

The sealing devices designed for the containment of dangerous items and the island’s strict security measures provided robust assurance for this kind of research.

A mechanical fast ship arrived from Frost at noon, nearing the military dock on the indented side of Dagger Island. The high-flying flag on the mechanical fast ship indicated its affiliation with the Frost Navy.

After a series of complex and strict verification, inspection, and registration procedures, the fast ship named “Sea Swallow” was granted docking permission. Accompanied by the steam core’s gradually decreasing roar, it moored beside the wharf and lowered its gangplank.

A few soldiers wearing blue and black Navy uniforms descended from the gangplank first, followed by a tall and burly officer with gray, short-cropped hair.

Several military personnel stationed on the island were already waiting ashore.

The burly officer with the gray, short-cropped hair surveyed the situation near the wharf and proceeded to disembark, whereupon the awaiting personnel immediately came forward and saluted. One of them said, “General, you’re twenty-five minutes later than scheduled. We’ll need to document this and ask for an explanation—you must go to the registration office personally.”

“Hmm,” the burly officer, referred to as the General, nodded. He didn’t see it as an offense that an ordinary officer was speaking to him, a General—this was a special research facility, and all stringent approval regulations were normal and reasonable safety requirements, “Let’s go right now… How are things with the Professor?”

“Professor Melson is in the ‘Chamber.’ He discovered something while analyzing the new batch of samples. It seems that the material scraped from the surface of the artifact exhibits marvelous properties under special experimental conditions,” said the reception personnel, “but we’ll discuss the details after we enter the ‘Chamber.’”

“Alright, lead me to the registration office.”

…

Not far from Dagger Island’s military port, inside a bay, intense and busy research continued inside a sturdy building constructed from reinforced concrete and massive rocks.

This inconspicuous gray building was the so-called “Chamber,” and also one of the island’s most securely protected and structurally robust laboratories.

The building’s interior hall was brightly lit.

It was a huge hexagonal room, with each wall made of the sturdiest concrete. At the top of the walls were carvings of symbols with mystical and religious significance. Huge banners of scripture hung from the ceiling, draped across the gaps in the gas lamps’ light, with steam pipes crisscrossing the hall’s ceiling. Some valves hissed gently, and incense burners quietly burned in the corners, with holy smoke slowly merging into the air.

Researchers in short robes bustled about the hall. A metallic device approximately five or six meters in diameter, shaped like a bulging bell, was suspended in the center of the room by thick chains. Its surface was mottled and ancient, as if it had spent long years soaked in the sea, while the complex valves and connections on top were clear indications of its purpose.

This was a “diving bell.”

Directly below the suspended diving bell, in the center of the hall floor, was a large circular grate embedded into the ground. The grate’s diameter exceeded the length of the diving bell, and through the grate, one could vaguely discern a striking red glow from deep underground.

A tall and thin, meticulously groomed, silver-haired elder scholar stood before the suspended diving bell, supervising his assistants as they carefully scraped samples from its exterior.

A clergyman dressed in priestly robes paced behind the assistants, carrying a brass incense burner. Faint incense smoke and murmured blessings rose from the burner, swirling gently through the air.

“Professor, General Belazov has arrived at the port,” an assistant approached and said behind the tall, slender elder scholar, “He’ll come here directly after completing the necessary registration procedures.”

“Oh… Belazov, I heard he was to come personally; it seems the city hall has finally gotten a bit anxious,” Professor Melson with the meticulously groomed silver hair said, his tone hinting at resignation, “Let him come… What about the samples delivered to the lab this morning?”

“After the final round of testing, we can now confirm that although the substance appears to be rust, it is not any material that we know of. Moreover, as time progresses, its properties are constantly changing,” the assistant replied, “It feels… as though the substance is still in some kind of evolutionary process, thus never stabilizing enough to exhibit its inherent properties.”

“Hmm.”

Professor Melson nodded gently, but his gaze still lingered on the suspended diving bell.

The diving bell was severely rusted, yet the round hatch structure on its side was still clearly visible. That hatch was now tightly closed; it hadn’t been opened since it was brought into this “secret chamber.”

On the other side of the diving bell, one could see a circular window with a very, very thick pane of special glass set into it. For some reason, the inside of the round window was covered in filth; the black muck almost completely obscured the glass, making it impossible to see what was inside the bell.

One could barely make out a messy cavity within, and something that resembled a liquid.

What was inside the diving bell?

Professor Melson himself had felt this curiosity more than once. Yet no matter how curious, he didn’t have the slightest intention of opening that hatch.

The Abyssal Project had started the year he turned sixteen.

He understood what could pique his curiosity, and what had to be approached with caution.

As he pondered, his assistant’s voice came from behind him again, “Professor, do you think they will order us to open that hatch from above?”

“To be honest, I have no desire at all to receive such an order,” Professor Melson shook his head, turning to face his assistant. “Courage and a spirit of exploration have allowed humanity to survive on the Endless Sea, but when these two traits are taken to extremes, they become recklessness and death.”

The assistant blinked, and then blinked his third and fourth eyes.

“But our progress is too slow now—if what you predicted happens, and another submersible surfaces, what then?”

Melson pondered for a moment before shaking his head lightly, “If that time comes, we’ll have to do more than just open the hatch—we’ll need to be ready to face the deep sea directly.”

The assistant looked as if he half understood.

This assistant was still too young—but then again, how many people today, half a century later, could still comprehend the terror of the Abyssal Project?

Professor Melson lifted his head, observing the figures bustling around the diving bell.

Some of them didn’t seem quite the same as when they had first arrived on the island.

And others, occasionally, seemed somewhat unfamiliar to the old professor.

In this research facility, it seemed as if many unfamiliar faces had subtly appeared.

But there was nothing strange about that; personnel changes in the research team were common, especially in complex special projects that required a variety of experts—a perfectly reasonable occurrence.

The priest holding the brass censor in his hand approached and nodded slightly in greeting before Professor Melson.

His censor, with eyes slightly open, sneaked a peek at the old scholar.

The strange scent of incense drifted through the air.

“The blessing for today is complete,” the priest spoke softly, “I will return at this time tomorrow to pray for the machines.”

“Thank you for your efforts, *%￥&%@* Priest.” The old professor smiled and nodded, naturally addressing the other, “If it weren’t for the sure mess of trouble this afternoon, I’d invite you for a drink.”

“Best to receive the general first,” the priest smiled, “That’s a big shot representing the Frost City-State here to ‘supervise’ our work.”

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