Shrouded Seascape

Hearing T6's words, Charles let out a low chuckle. "Experimental subject, huh? I suppose I should feel honored. After all, not everyone is favored by the Foundation. Is that considered a threat?"

T6 stepped forward slightly and brought her massive, terrifying spider head closer to Charles.

"I'm rather straightforward, and I usually just say what is on my mind. Charles, we've fought together before, and I may not be a soldier, but we can still be considered comrades. I really don't want to see you ending up as an experimental subject.

"Do you understand the consequences if I were to agree to join the Foundation?" Charles retorted. "My wife, my child, and my friends, my comrades who had gone through life and death with me… Every single one of them will be wiped out once your plan is initialized!

"If they cease to exist in this world, are the other humans even worth protecting?" Charles' voice was calm, and his gaze resolute.

By this point, T6 understood Charles' stance. "Perhaps K9 was wrong. You are still different from us. Anyway, there isn't much time left. They wouldn't allow a potential threat to exist when Plan Three is initialized."

"I know. There's no need for you to remind me. I figured as much." Charles wasn't the least bit surprised by the Foundation's follow-up actions. If he were in the Foundation's position, he would do the exact same.

T6 moved her eight spider limbs and scaled the wall up to the ceiling, preparing to make her exit.

"You still have a chance to reconsider. Three days later, K9 will visit you one last time. That will be your final chance to make a decision. If you insist on your current decision, I'll respect it.

"Also, don't be so hasty to try to escape. The Foundation's strength far surpasses yours. If needed, I will intervene as well, though I really don't want to. However, the existence of the Foundation takes precedence over everything, you and me included."

Charles watched as T6's swollen body, with a pile of brains on her back, gradually moved toward the distance. Just as she was about to turn the corner, Charles suddenly broke the silence.

"You claim that everything the Foundation does is for humanity. Then have you guys ever considered that sometimes, life can carve a path for itself?"

T6 didn't respond and continued on her way without saying a single word.

The corners of Charles's lips curved upward into a slight smirk. He then turned and headed back to his quarters.

Since negotiations had broken down, there was no point for him to continue waiting and stalling for time. He couldn't afford to delay any longer.

At the same time, however, Charles was well aware that the Foundation had accumulated immense power, as they had existed for centuries.

Even if he were to unite the entire Subterranean Sea to fight the Foundation, they wouldn't stand a chance. It was a gamble with slim odds of success.

However, he had no choice. Even if it would cost him his life, he had to resist till the very end. The safety of Anna, Sparkle, and all of his loved ones mattered more than his own life.

No matter what, I have to escape before anything else. I need to at least get some information out of this place. Charles' eyes narrowed into slits as he surveyed the pristine surroundings.

Making use of his time here, he had memorized every detail of all the areas he could access. He had only one chance. If they captured him again, that would be the end of him.

For the next few days, Charles remained confided in his room and no longer ventured out. He buried himself in drawing on a canvas.

Three days later, at exactly noon, K9 came knocking on his door again, just as T6 had said.

"Come in; the door's not locked," Charles called out.

The door remained closed, but K9's tall, slender figure phased through the wall. He looked at Charles, who was engrossed in his drawing.

K9's four raven eyes glanced at the scattered drawings on the floor. They were all abstract pieces with random interconnected lines to form the outline of creatures that were impossible to exist.

Apart from the random lines, there were also patternless inclusions of tentacles and bones.

"What do you think of my artworks? Someone once told me that a true artist shouldn't be judged by how accurately they draw. I'm trying to push the limits of my artistic skills," Charles said without looking up.

K9 ignored Charles' question and went straight to the point. "Let's not beat around the bush; you know why I'm here. But before you make any decisions, there's something I want you to see first. You can decide after that."

Without moving, a three-dimensional projection of a lump of writhing black tentacles appeared before Charles.

"What is that?" Charles asked, but his hand continued to draw without pausing for even a moment.

"Your brain," K9 answered.

Charles' hand halted abruptly. His brows furrowed as he slowly got to his feet. He approached the projection and examined it closely.

The several tentacles intertwined to form a semi-oval shape. At a glance, it did resemble the shape of a brain.

K9 moved toward the projection and extended two black bird claws from beneath his voluminous trench coat. With a gentle pull on opposite sides, the projection zoomed in to magnify the lump of tentacles to about a meter in size.

It was then that Charles realized the subtle pinkish hues that were exposed between the gaps of the writhing tentacles. The lump of tentacles did indeed resemble a brain.

"Due to the memetic infection in your memories, we aren't able to ascertain the internal state of your brain. But judging from its appearance, your situation appears quite problematic," K9 explained.

"I know about these things. They belong to my wife. You aren't here today to act as my primary care doctor, are you? Everyone's time is precious, so just get straight to the point."

K9 seemed surprised by Charles' reaction. "Could it be that you have no idea what these parasite-like things are?"

With another wave of his slender black claw, the tentacles on the projection turned translucent to reveal a brain riddled with holes.

"It's terrifying, isn't it?" K9 asked.

"And so?" Charles replied in a nonchalant tone, not even bothering to raise an eyebrow. He sat back down and resumed his drawing.

"If you have no idea, then let me tell you. This means that that wife of yours has turned you into a puppet. She can modify your memories any time, anywhere she wishes."

"I don't believe she would do that," Charles countered. "I know what she would do and what she wouldn't do."

Charles didn't care if this was the Foundation's attempt to sow discord or something else. He was not going to believe a single word. Anna was a monster indeed, but no monster would go through the trouble of bearing their puppet a child just to control them.

"Your wife is 1193-1-3. They are a group of terrifying project entities, creatures driven purely by their instincts," K9 stated.

"Their formed consciousness is merely a byproduct created by them to achieve certain means. Don't be too distracted by what can be seen by the naked eye; focus on the core issue.

"Think about it carefully: Hasn't your wife's power been growing stronger and stronger? And doesn't she draw power from your strength as well?

"The most terrifying part of this is that your wife is likely not aware of her actions, too. Though her instincts are powerful, everything she does, whether intentionally or not, is driven by her physical needs.

"She is also very unique. We've captured other 1193-1-3 entities, but none are like her."

Charles had stopped drawing at some point, and his brows were pressed together, seemingly deep in thought.

K9 noticed that and said, "Think about it; do you really think that such a being should continue to exist? When she becomes powerful to a certain extent, the consequences could be unimaginable."