Deep Sea Embers

Chapter 544: Approaching Dusk

Silence engulfed the captain’s chamber as Duncan’s eyes remained fixed on the sketch paper, staring intently at a vast and bizarrely depicted eyeball.

Despite the chaotic, almost mad strokes that created the image, it was rendered with an uncanny accuracy and expressiveness. A single glance was enough for anyone to grasp the meaning of each line and curve, as if the true essence of the image was woven into every element.

Within those frenzied brushstrokes, the massive eyeball was portrayed in exquisite detail. Its deep pupil was surrounded by discernible veins and nerve structures. Beyond the eyeball, there was a noticeable layer of a dim substance. Taran El used intricate lines to depict this layer enveloping the eye, striving to convey the nature of this substance. Duncan’s only interpretation from the drawing was that it was a “shell with a complex structure.”

It resembled an eye encased within a gem-like shell.

The squeaky creaking sound emerged from the side as the goat head rotated its head uneasily. He appeared curious about the sketch’s content yet hesitant.

After a long pause, the goat head timidly inquired, “Captain… what exactly is that?”

“It’s an eye,” Duncan replied after a brief silence, choosing his words carefully while explaining the content of the sketch to the goat head. “Structurally, it resembles a human eye. You can see its veins and nerve structures. The eye is encased within a spherical shell that seems synthetic…”

Listening to Duncan’s description, the goat head was quieter than it had ever been.

After an extended silence, it finally moved, voicing its deep unease, “This is… truly a terrifying sight… Is this the real appearance of Vision 001? A massive eyeball like this? Then… during the blackout, didn’t many people…”

“Not many would have truly witnessed this scene,” Duncan slowly shook his head. “During the solar blackout, we too looked up at the sky. All we saw was a dark sphere. The intricate details within it couldn’t be directly observed—this drawing illustrates that. The eyeball is ‘encased’ within a vast container.”

“At the time, only Taran El, with the help of the Truth Academy’s special observational equipment, could see the true nature inside the sphere. We needn’t worry that ordinary folks elsewhere might casually stumble upon this maddening ‘truth’.”

Upon hearing Duncan’s words, the goat head seemed relieved. However, its worry returned immediately, “But even if few witnessed it, there could still be some, right? Not everyone would react like Taran El, able to instinctively seal or alter their recorded content when mentally overwhelmed. According to Taran El’s subsequent actions, those who see this eyeball seem compelled to share its image…”

Duncan listened intently to the goat head, which was filled with unease. However, he didn’t respond. Instead, he wore a grave expression, lost in deep thought.

The goat head rambled on for a while, noticing the captain’s lack of response. Finally, it couldn’t help but ask, “Captain, don’t you think we should warn…”

“Pland and Frost don’t possess similar ‘observational’ equipment. The lens set is an asset of the Truth Academy, intricate and rare,” Duncan finally replied, looking up. “Outside of Wind Harbor, even if someone observed the surface of Vision 001 during the solar blackout, they wouldn’t discern this ‘truth’.”

“But if Pland and Frost don’t have it, other city-states might!” the goat head exclaimed. “Who knows what those reckless fools might do? Humans aren’t a reliable species!”

“…Other city-states didn’t witness the blackout of the sun,” Duncan suddenly interjected.

The previously agitated goat head instantly fell silent.

“Have you forgotten?” Duncan gently reminded, “Only three city-states and the ‘Vanished Fleet’ witnessed the world where the sun blacked out. The vast seas beyond them didn’t experience those twelve hours of darkness.”

The goat head swayed slightly from side to side, finally letting out a vague sigh, “Oh… um…”

Duncan said nothing further. Instead, he glanced once more at the sketch illustrating the core structure of Vision 001. Slowly, another scene began to form in his mind—

A blazing corona, beneath which twisted and tangled fleshy limbs, and surrounded by countless pale appendages, a dying, massive eyeball.

The Creeping Sun Wheel—The Black Sun.

Duncan’s brow furrowed incrementally. A vague familiarity emerged and was impossible to ignore. The memories in his mind quickly aligned with the sketch in front of him, giving rise to audacious ideas.

“…It’s quite similar to the ‘Black Sun’s’ eyeball,” he murmured.

“What?” The goat head was taken aback, “What terrifying thing are you talking about?”

“This eyeball, it shares a structure similar to a part of the Creep Sun Wheel’,” Duncan pondered aloud. As the details from his memories completed the picture, his conviction grew stronger, “Yes, it’s very similar. If you isolate this ‘eyeball’ structure and compare, they are almost identical.”

There was a slight snap as if the goat head’s neck had gotten stuck at a particular angle. It froze over the nautical table, rendered speechless.

For the first time, even a chatterbox like the goat head was at a loss for words.

Duncan took a deep breath, carefully folded the sketch paper, and securely tucked it close to his body.

Thankfully, Lucretia was prudent enough not to leave this piece of paper in the hands of the regular scholars of the Truth Academy. Otherwise, it was uncertain what kind of chaos might ensue. Even though the Truth Academy didn’t have his convenient “Spiritual Flame” to break the paper’s seal, they had a plethora of ingenious research methods. They might have actually managed to restore the real designs drawn on the draft paper.

As Duncan was deep in thought, his concentration was abruptly shattered by hurried footsteps outside the captain’s quarters. Following the footsteps, there came a knock and the voice of Morris from outside, “Captain, I have something to report to you!”

Immediately composing his facial expression, Duncan lifted his gaze towards the door, “Come in.”

The door swung open, and Morris strode in. As he walked, he produced a letter from his pocket, saying, “Captain, Heidi sent an unexpected message. The letter mentions… unusual matters that I need to report to you.”

A letter from Heidi?

Duncan hesitated for a moment before taking the letter. He was surprised that, in such a short time after establishing contact and revealing the truth, the young mental health therapist would get in touch. However, a question arose in his mind, “Why didn’t she come directly to my antique store? Why was the letter delivered to you instead?”

Every day, Ai would travel between the Vanished and Pland, not only transporting essential goods but also routinely delivering letters at places like the cathedral, Morris’s residence, and the government mansion. It was normal for Heidi to send messages through these channels. But if she wanted to contact the captain of the Vanished, going directly to the antique store would have been a more convenient option.

“She’s still a bit apprehensive,” Morris explained with a hint of awkwardness in his voice. “Probably, after learning the truth, she became hesitant to meet with your avatar directly.”

“Unnecessary worry. Just last week, she bought a vase from my shop,” Duncan muttered. He quickly opened the letter and skimmed the hastily written words, his expression subtly shifting as he read.

A moment later, Duncan’s relaxed demeanor vanished, replaced by seriousness and growing concern. After quickly absorbing the content, he was silent for a few seconds before looking up at Morris, “She encountered an Ender…”

“Yes, and according to her description, it seems to be one of the rational kind,” Morris nodded. “Although the ‘rationality’ of this unexpected visitor is questionable, he was very cryptic throughout, never speaking clearly…”

Clearly, the venerable educator, who had spent his lifetime teaching numerous students and held the principle that “knowledge should be conveyed in a concise, straightforward, and understandable manner,” was profoundly annoyed with the enigmatic cultist mentioned in the letter. His displeasure was evident.

“The lack of clarity in his words might be due to certain constraints. The important factor is that he’s willing to communicate. That’s the most pronounced distinction between the two kinds of Endbringer Enders,” Duncan said rapidly. He then glanced at the letter again, absorbing all the intelligence mentioned therein.

The Fourth Long Night… The Promised Ark… A “gentler” sun nearing dusk and… the appearance of a certain “variable”, and the steadily expanding “void”…

Heidi had meticulously recounted in her letter all the cryptic remarks she had heard from the Ender, ensuring not to modify or embellish them based on her own assumptions.

The intelligence in itself was enough to make countless speculations and associations bubble up in Duncan’s mind.

“The Ender’s thought process didn’t seem very lucid, and he appeared during the day, unlike other ‘normal’ Enders who manifest at night,” Morris interjected. “He mentioned the Fourth Long Night and alluded to many ‘phenomena’ preceding its onset. It seems his very appearance during the day is a harbinger of the imminent ‘Fourth Long Night’…”

The Fourth Long Night…

Duncan couldn’t help but recollect descriptions from the “Book of Blasphemy”: There were three genesis epochs, termed as the “Three Long Nights”. The Pale Giant King died during the First Long Night, the Dream King during the Second, and the King of Darkness successfully crafted all creation during the Third. Together with the Cretean Clan, they ignited the present-day ‘sun’, lifting the veil of night. Yet, he was exiled by other ancient kings for altering the blueprint, never to reclaim his throne…

Slowly rising from behind the navigation table, Duncan approached the window.

The sun was on the verge of setting beyond the horizon.

Bound by magnificent dual-rune rings, the brilliant and warm orb was gradually sinking into the sea, casting a radiant afterglow.

Duncan gazed at it, imagining he was actually observing an eye larger than any city-state, which had been overlooking this world for ten millennia.

This “eye”, which ascended to the skies during the ancient Crete Kingdom era, was now approaching its twilight.

The tapestry woven from light, warm and tranquil, seemed poised to fall due to the sun’s imminent demise. After this protective veil vanishes, after the arrival of the “Fourth Long Night” as described by the Ender… What would the world’s “dusk” look like?