Deep Sea Embers - Chapter 558: All That They Left Behind

In that climactic instant, a piercing burst of cold, luminescent light surged forth from an abyss of immeasurable darkness and turmoil. This radiant flash threatened to overpower and extinguish the small, flickering flame Duncan had carefully introduced into the mysterious object they were all referring to as the “sample.”

Duncan was temporarily lost in a brief trance, his senses muffled. From the periphery of his awareness, he heard Shirley, who was standing beside him, let out a warning cry: “Watch out!”

Jarred back to his senses, Duncan’s instincts kicked in and he took a hasty half-step backwards. Mere fractions of a second later, the glinting tip of a silver sword manifested before his eyes as if emerging from the very air.

Miraculously, the sword tip halted just about ten centimeters from his nose, but it didn’t stop there. It continued to extend forward, but at an excruciatingly slow pace.

“Aggressive behavior!” shouted Ted Lir, who had been zealously monitoring the sample’s every nuance. Mumbling an incantation, Ted Lir hastily opened a large, arcane tome he had been clutching. From its aged pages, a misty, radiant light burst forth, swiftly covering the surface of the mysterious sample. This light began to harden and layer upon itself, creating a fortified shield of magical barriers around the object.

Simultaneously, Duncan pulled back the small flame he had earlier infused into the sample. His thoughts snapped back into focus, and his eyes returned to the sample resting on its specialized containment platform.

What had once been a lump of unresponsive, grayish-metallic substance now started to change form. A portion of its seemingly inert shell began to protrude and reshape itself, taking on the appearance of a sharply pointed sword.

However, the sword-like formation didn’t cause any harm. It extended partway before slowing down as if constrained by some colossal, unseen force. Instead of explosively bursting out, it felt as though the sword was being painstakingly “extruded” from the sample’s core.

Seemingly out of nowhere, Lucretia produced a small device known as a “conducting rod” and briskly took two steps toward the anomalous formation. Just as she was ready to exploit Ted Lir’s magical containment of the sample, aiming her rod at the emerging sword’s midsection in preparation for its destruction, Duncan interjected abruptly, “Wait.”

Lucretia ceased her half-formed spell and turned to look at her father in bewilderment. Ted Lir, who had been gathering energy for his next mystical intervention, and Nina, who seemed almost eager to jump into action, both halted and looked at Duncan, their faces marked by confusion.

Waving them aside, Duncan cautiously maneuvered around the still-growing blade. He reached the sample, which appeared to be made of a form of “living metal,” and began to scrutinize its outer layer closely.

Upon examination, Duncan concluded that the sample was not truly “alive” or “animated” in any conventional sense. The only movement was the sword extension that continued its slow emergence. The rest of the sample remained as stagnant and immovable as it had been before.

Duncan’s mind was a whirling tempest of jumbled, fragmented information. The sensation was like having someone rip apart a lifetime’s worth of memories, shuffle them indiscriminately, and then dump the disarrayed pieces back into his consciousness. Laboriously, Duncan began to sift through these chaotic snippets, mentally rearranging them again and again, trying to reconstruct them into a coherent stream of useful knowledge.

Within this maelstrom of his mind, he glimpsed a variety of vivid scenes—a haunting hue of “deep red,” streaks of scars scarring the heavens, heroes walking away into the distance, fallen friends lying in fields of battle, a reality that gradually warped and withered away, a journey that seemed aimless and futile. There were also overwhelming emotions—confusion, rage, terror—followed by deathly stillness and eerie calm. Amidst this disarray, bizarre and unsettling images floated up, haunting his psyche.

Duncan considered the notion that if an average individual were subjected to even a sliver of these disjointed thoughts and memories, they’d likely be irrevocably tainted by the perilous knowledge hidden within the fragments.

However, for Duncan, this “corrupting knowledge” existed as mere shards in the whirlwind of his mind. Through relentless focus and iterative processing, he had started piecing together these disjointed scraps into a more or less coherent narrative.

Finally ready, he shifted his gaze to the sword, which had by now almost entirely emerged from the sample of living metal. With a momentary pause as if weighing the consequences, he extended a finger to touch its icy, metallic surface.

An immediate sensation of cold, hard metal coursed through his finger, reverberating up his arm. Duncan closed his eyes, absorbing the touch. As he did so, the chaotic fragments of memory swirling in his mind seemed to align ever so slightly, becoming marginally clearer and more understandable. Although far from complete, they provided enough context for him to start making sense of a greater story.

When he reopened his eyes, he felt a profound connection to the slender blade before him—the last vestige of a long-forgotten world. He saw the nameless warrior’s final, futile swing against the encroaching apocalypse. Gently grasping the blade, he felt a bond resonate between them as he slowly pulled it free.

As he did, a burst of flame imbued the sword with newfound power, enabling it to finally sever its connection to the living metal from which it had emerged. The sword was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its blade swathed in fine linen. The hilt was adorned with a radiant, enigmatic crystal, its purpose unknown. It seemed to have traveled across unimaginable spans of time to arrive in what Duncan thought of as the “Deep-Sea Age,” preserved in its original, authentic form.

The room was hushed, the air thick with astonishment. Every eye—including Ted Lir’s—was wide open, captivated by the unfolding spectacle. Finally, Lucretia shattered the silence, her voice tinged with awe and curiosity. “Papa, what is this?”

Duncan looked down at the nameless, ancient sword in his hands. After a long, contemplative pause, he finally spoke, “This is a weapon that was once intended to be wielded against the apocalypse.”

“To fight the apocalypse?” Shirley exclaimed, her eyes expanding in disbelief. “With a sword? Are we talking about a legendary artifact of the sort that could split the seas, blessed by the Four Gods or something of that nature?”

The room awaited Duncan’s reply, the air thick with questions only he could begin to answer.

Duncan shook his head, dispelling any notions of mythical powers associated with the sword. “It’s just a sword—a very well-crafted sword, mind you. While it’s incredibly sharp, its capabilities are rooted in the mundane; it was designed to kill larger beasts or human enemies in armed combat. That was the peak of their technological and magical achievements.”

Lucretia and Ted Lir exchanged puzzled looks, clearly perplexed by the sword’s apparent simplicity in light of its dramatic unveiling. Nina, however, seemed to sense there was more to the story. “What did you see?” she pressed.

Still in the process of mentally collating the chaotic fragments of ancient memories, Duncan paused to organize his thoughts before speaking. “I saw fragments—bits and pieces of a world that existed a very long time ago.”

As he attempted to convey what he’d glimpsed, he chose his words carefully. His narration was deliberately slow; the fragmented memories were disjointed and filled with gaps. He himself was still grappling to understand the full scope, struggling to create a cohesive narrative and explain it in terms that his companions could grasp.

He decided to take a leap and explain to them the concept of a “planet,” encouraged by a prior conversation he had had with Alice. However, defining a foreign concept turned out to be an elaborate endeavor. Each new term or idea required the foundation of multiple simpler concepts. These, in turn, demanded yet more basic explanations. To make matters more complicated, many of these principles ran counter to the accepted wisdom of this world. Duncan soon realized that even if he managed to elucidate each and every concept, it was unlikely that anyone could fully grasp, let alone visualize, the complex web of ideas he was presenting.

Ted Lir and Lucretia fired off questions one after another, their inquiries only extending the already lengthy discussion. Eventually, Duncan realized that adequately imparting the foundational knowledge he was describing would necessitate months of dedicated instruction.

In the end, he resorted to a quicker approach, skimming over certain aspects and using metaphors to fill the conceptual gaps as best as he could.

Despite his valiant efforts to simplify and clarify, it was evident that Nina, Lucretia, Ted Lir, and Shirley could only comprehend a fraction of his explanation. However, they at least had a rudimentary understanding of what had transpired in the ancient past.

Shirley seemed lost in awe, captivated by the sprawling tale, while Nina continued to ponder the unfamiliar terminology Duncan had introduced. As for the scholars, Lucretia and Ted Lir appeared to be in deep thought, clearly contemplating the broader implications of what had been shared.

Ted Lir finally broke the silence, voicing his thoughts. “The apocalypse you mentioned… If the events you’ve seen are indeed indicative of an apocalyptic scenario, then they must have occurred—”

“Before the Great Annihilation,” Duncan interjected, completing Ted Lir’s unspoken thought. He then lifted the sword, eyeing it thoughtfully. “Historians have long been stymied by a sort of ‘black wall,’ a barrier preventing us from looking too deeply into the past. Today, that wall has cracked. This sword may be the first artifact that we can definitively say comes from an era before the Great Annihilation, a tangible link to what I call the ‘Deep-Sea Age.’”

The room fell silent again as each person absorbed the magnitude of Duncan’s words and what they meant for their understanding of history and their world.

“A monumental moment in history has just unfolded before us,” Ted Lir uttered, his face a complex tapestry of emotions. Faced with revelations that had the potential to upend the academic world, he felt his mind swimming in a sea of conflicting thoughts. Decades of meticulously constructed knowledge were now crashing against the newly introduced concepts, challenging his very understanding of the nature of reality. Instinctively, he silently prayed to Lahem, the deity he followed, seeking mental strength, and deployed psychological coping mechanisms to safeguard his sanity from being shattered.

After several moments of introspective silence, Lucretia looked up, her eyes meeting Duncan’s. “You spoke of many foreign concepts. Are those the difficult topics you’ve been hesitating to discuss with me?”

“They are just the tip of the iceberg,” Duncan replied softly. “I should have shared them with you sooner.”

Rather than pressing him for answers or questioning why he had chosen this moment to open up, Lucretia simply shook her head in understanding. She knew her father had his reasons and would divulge them when he was ready.

What intrigued her now was the source of her father’s supernatural knowledge. Could it have originated from what was known as ‘subspace’?

Meanwhile, having given the matter some serious thought, Ted Lir pinpointed a critical inconsistency.

“From what you claim to have ‘seen,’ under the effects of this ‘red light,’ you suggest that their world was consumed by lava, shattered, and all life was extinguished. How, then, did our current ‘Deep-Sea Age’ come into existence?” He lifted his hand and made a slicing gesture through the air, simulating the concept of a geological fault or division in time.

“There seems to be a significant disconnect, Captain Duncan. There must have been a transitional phase between the destruction of that world and the onset of our Deep-Sea Age. What you’ve witnessed doesn’t align with any known race, geography, or myth in our present era.”

“Absolutely, it doesn’t align,” Duncan nodded thoughtfully. His gaze shifted to the ‘sample’ displayed on the platform before them. After a lengthy pause, he finally voiced a speculation that had been gnawing at him. “Perhaps not much of that world was passed down—unlike in our world of humans, elves, and various other races. What we see here, this sword, may be one of the few remnants of that lost world.”

“‘That world’…” Ted Lir and Lucretia looked at each other, eyes widening in a mutual moment of understanding. They both realized they were finally grasping Duncan’s enigmatic observations.

In Duncan’s mind, an image of what he considered the ‘moon’ from his homeland resurfaced. Accompanying this mental picture was a sentence Alice had once playfully uttered to him—

“Captain, is this all some sort of riddle?”

Duncan’s facial muscles twitched ever so subtly, his expression slowly morphing into a smile—an enigmatic smile that neither Nina nor Lucretia could fathom.

“Yes, it truly is a riddle,” he whispered so quietly that only he could hear.