Chapter 1 The Crumpled Paper

The paper was wrinkled and stained in many places with a grayish-black "slurry." The writing on it was blurred and incomplete, but after Morris carefully handled it, many of the sentences on it were restored to a barely legible state.

"Brown Scott" recorded the bizarre changes that were happening to him in the last lucid moments of his consciousness: "...Around four in the morning, twelve hours after locking the door, increasingly intense tinnitus and paroxysmal vertigo severely affect my actions. I can only write things down when I'm in a slightly better state. There seems to be bleeding under my skin, and I'm seeing inexplicable bruises..."

"6:30 AM. My internal organs feel like they're churning, as if the structures inside me have lost their order and are wandering around inside me with their own ideas. I don't feel any pain, and even the dizziness has lessened a lot... The fear is starting to subside, and increasingly clear memories are appearing in my mind..."

"Around seven o'clock, I clearly recalled the details of my death, and I'm increasingly convinced that the real me is already dead. My left leg inexplicably fractured—or maybe a section of bone suddenly dissolved and disappeared.

"8:15 AM. My left leg is starting to dissolve. First, the skin cracks open on its own, and then the internal tissues flow out like some kind of grayish-black liquid. These detached liquid substances seem to have a life of their own, wriggling on the floor and even climbing up the walls... I was worried that the planks I nailed to the window might not be able to block these bizarre and terrifying substances, but then I discovered that they quickly lose their activity after being detached, and even when they are active, they seem to consciously avoid sunlight... This may be very important information, recorded here..."

"...My heart has stopped beating, but my consciousness continues. I can feel that this body is no longer operating according to the physiological mechanisms of a normal human. I tried cutting a wound, but there was no blood, only grayish-black viscous substance flowing out rapidly... What substance is this body formed of at this moment?"

"My entire upper body is starting to congeal. It took some effort to fix myself in one position and continue writing these words—I can't feel any pain now, I'm not breathing, and my heartbeat stopped long ago. I can hear a buzzing noise, as if the substances that make up myself are resonating... More and more viscous substance is leaving my body, making a mess of the room..."

"...I hope Galoni won't be scared when she cleans up the room... Although when writing this name, I can barely recall what Galoni looks like.

"10:30 AM. The thing I feared most has happened. My vision is rapidly weakening, and the environment is rapidly darkening. I have to feel the edges of the paper and try to make the writing on it as clear as possible..."

Morris saw this, of course, but he said nothing, only giving the table next to him one last look.

"What should we do about this?" the old scholar asked, looking up at the captain. "The traces in the room, the data left by Brown, and... Galoni on the first floor."

"Perhaps we should give the cultists here a little 'Lost Ship shock,'" he said softly, rubbing his fingers together. A small cluster of ghostly green flame fell from his fingertips, silently dropping to the ground and quickly dissolving into the air, disappearing without a trace.

"...Origin," Duncan said, looking up. "The church in Frost is studying this substance. They believe that this viscous substance left behind after the disintegration of the Deep Sea duplicates is very similar in nature to the 'Origin' mentioned by the Annihilation cultists."

Duncan didn't speak for a moment. Listening to the old scholar's account, Duncan was silent for a few seconds before looking up. "Pouring out in large quantities... pouring out from the deep sea?"

"So, there must be a larger cultist stronghold, a hidden place where they can hold large-scale rituals, enough for them to constantly draw on the power of the deep sea to create duplicates in the city-state, and even invade Dagger Island." Duncan said slowly, looking up and surveying the room—the only window in the room was nailed shut with wooden planks, and the roof, walls, and floor were covered with dried-up "slurry" devoid of life. All the traces here seemed to be silently telling a thrilling story of facing death and fighting back.

Morris was stunned for a moment, but he was somewhat accustomed to the captain's ability to grasp new clues from who-knows-where and when, so he didn't curiously ask about the source of this information. After a brief moment of thought, he opened his mouth and said, "…I know about the ‘Origin’ thing. To study the historical origins of the cultists, you can't avoid these mumbo-jumbo things."

Over there, it was a bit blurry and uneven. The boundary between the paper and the slurry seemed to have disappeared, and even showed a partial state of fusion.

Whether the recorder's consciousness had finally reached its end, or he couldn't write the correct words on the paper due to losing most of his senses—in the end, all that this dead person left to the mortal world was an abruptly ending punctuation mark.

"Maybe another hour has passed,"

"...Even for a powerful city-state, building a submersible that can travel to the depths of the sea thousands of meters is no small matter. At the very least, this is not something a group of cultists can master," Morris said thoughtfully. "But they can use some kind of indirect ritual to guide the power of the deep sea, or communicate with...certain beings in the deep sea."

"Galoni's cognitive interference has obviously not ended. After the duplicate inside this building disappeared, she still hasn't regained consciousness, and even believes that her teacher is resting in the room. This shows that the 'source' of the interference is not her teacher, but something that is still active and hiding in the depths of the city-state. Unless that source is destroyed, she will not truly recover."

Morris's expression froze. "You mean..."

Duncan paused.

The writing stopped here.

Morris noticed Duncan's actions. "Have you found something?"

"And... I'm not sure how many more 'Brown Scotts' there are outside this city-state, or how many more 'Garonis'."

Duncan didn't answer immediately, but instead leaned closer to the solidified "slurry," observing their edges thoughtfully. Then, he picked up the last record left by Brown Scott and examined the areas on the edge of the paper that had been completely soaked in slurry.

Saying this, she frowned slightly, seemingly thinking of more.

That was the place where Brown Scott last "worked"—perhaps it was just a short-lived duplicate, but when this constantly collapsing and disintegrating body worked diligently at his desk, it still possessed a noble soul.

"No need, I mourned for him once," Morris shook his head gently. "I just didn't expect to see his academic records again three years later... This information is all very useful, right?"

"Unable to confirm the current time, probably between eleven and twelve o'clock. Heard a sharp, strange sound, which lasted for about two minutes, then all the discomfort began to subside, and the perception of the remaining parts of my body is also rapidly weakening. Can faintly feel the part below my chest falling..."

He paused, as if organizing the information in his mind, and continued after a moment: "Just like the Sun Cultists firmly believe that the ancient true sun will eventually save the world, the Annihilation Cultists have a similar 'salvation prophecy.' They proclaim that one day in the future, the Abyss Lord will awaken from his slumber and destroy this world that has been distorted and deceived by the gods in a rage. The Abyss Deep Sea, representing the 'true reality,' will rise from the depths of the world and become a paradise for mortals to live in again. And after that day arrives, 'Origin' will pour out in large quantities first. Origin is the cornerstone of the world, the blueprint for all things. They will cover everything and restore the world to its true appearance..."

Morris was silent, not making any sound for a long time. After what seemed like a long while, he said softly to himself, "Ah, it is indeed my handwriting."

"We have enough clues. Let's leave the rest to the Frost people," Duncan said flatly. "Leave the room as it is, leave this letter in a conspicuous place on the table, and prepare a letter of denunciation. As for Galoni..."

"Do you need to be alone for a while?"

Duncan looked at the old gentleman calmly. "I can wait for you outside."

And in his perception, the Lost Ship was sailing, heading towards Dagger Island and the Frost mainland.

"Rumors of the return of the dead are circulating in the city, but at the same time, completely opposite news is reaching Tirian," Duncan glanced at Morris. "This city-state is probably being riddled with duplicates and cognitive interference phenomena."

"I'm becoming more and more interested in these Annihilation Cultists now, but more than their so-called 'salvation prophecy,' I'm more curious about how they established a 'connection' with a place a thousand meters deep under Frost at this moment," Duncan shook his head. "The duplicates come from the deep sea, as did the Obsidian and the submersible on Dagger Island, but a group of mumbling Annihilation Cultists… How do you think they got in touch with the power thousands of meters underwater?"