Chapter 319 Hidden Shadows

Belazov had completed his inspection of Dagger Island and supervision of the research work. Now, it was time for the military representative to leave.

Near the pier in Dagger Island Bay, Professor Mairson, who had come to see him off, looked up at the "Petrel," which was being prepared for departure.

Sailors were boarding, port officials were checking procedures, and clergymen in robes, carrying incense burners, were walking around the mooring ropes, gently shaking the incense and praying for the ship's machinery.

It was a clear and sunny day.

Belazov stood on the dock, watching the sailors returning to the Petrel in batches. He turned to Professor Mairson and said, "Professor, I am impressed with your research, but I must remind you – the project on Dagger Island is progressing slowly, and some people in the City-State are getting impatient."

"My orders are to understand the various properties of that submersible under safe conditions, to try to decipher its material composition, and in the next stage to try to understand the principles of its appearance," the old professor said calmly. "We are proceeding according to the schedule. If those bigwigs in the Political Affairs Office really have ideas, I can try to find the blueprints on the Frost Queen and manufacture submersibles number four or even five – sending someone down directly would be much more convenient than scraping samples in the lab every day."

"They won't like that response – but I'd be happy to pass it on for you," General Belazov laughed. "They wouldn't dare to manufacture submersibles. It would only make their expressions even more placid."

Professor Benjamin shrugged, then paused for a moment, and said with a complicated expression, "Although I'm joking, to be honest, I'm also quite worried about the progress of this matter."

Belazov didn't speak, only looked calmly at the old professor who had experienced the "Queen's Era."

"Day after day of scraping samples and analyzing their physicochemical properties is certainly an indispensable part of the regular research process, but I also see that you can only analyze so much from these samples," the old professor sighed. "Even if we really open the hatch one day, I'm afraid we won't get any more secrets from the submersible – the real secret isn't here, General. You understand what I mean."

Belazov glanced at the somewhat familiar sailor and nodded slightly. "I need to rest for a while. Don't disturb me unless it's important."

He knew that he had been a little rash just now – he shouldn't have asked such a strange question to someone who seemed a little off, even if the other person was one of his most trusted deputies.

The one-eyed human named Belazo returned to the room, appearing normal. Belazov watched his back, first relieved, then turned and walked slowly towards the end of the corridor.

"Even if everything is normal, you must confirm your sanity and judgment. Even if there is nothing suspicious around, you must verify the following:"

This trip to Dagger Island was uneventful, and the return journey was smooth, but some procedural matters still couldn't be omitted. This was an order, and a responsibility.

There were many people on the deck.

Left eye?

"Recall a color, then turn to the next page... it should be blue or white."

After opening the notebook, the first sentence on it caught his eye: The steam-powered clipper cut through the calm waves, leaving a beautiful trail that spread out endlessly on the boundless sea. The steep and winding coastline of Dagger Island slowly receded into the distance and gradually disappeared into the depths of the fog, common in the northern seas.

He steadied himself, casually opened the desk drawer, and took out the notebook that had been placed in the secret compartment beforehand.

"General?"

Now, he was sure. Belazov returned to the captain's cabin, sat down behind the desk, listened to the low mechanical hum coming from deep beneath the floor, and breathed a sigh of relief.

The number was wrong, very, very wrong.

"He is left-handed, now confirm this..."

The sound of flipping pages echoed in the room.

Something was wrong with the ship. Something... something hidden and dangerous had boarded.

The adjutant blinked, and although puzzled, he nodded. "Yes, General."

The ship was heading straight for the City-State.

He took a light breath and strode towards the mechanical hold at the deepest part of the ship.

Belazov flipped through the pages, performing simple recall confirmations or subconscious repetitions, but suddenly, he stopped.

The Petrel had a streamlined crew this time, with only eighty-seven people on board when it set out.

A middle-aged officer quickly came out of a nearby room and approached Belazov.

This kind of living construct's deviation in consciousness made the general increasingly vigilant. He stared at Belazo for a long time, trying to find the source of the incongruity in his mind, until the adjutant's voice entered his ears again, "General? Is something the matter?"

"The deputy brought this time is Belazo Yorton, who has a burn scar near his left eye."

The old professor nodded. "Thank you."

The Petrel left.

The adjutant was suddenly stunned, as if his mind had gone blank in the face of this question. Seeing this, Belazov immediately said, "Forget about the question, it was just a casual inquiry – go back to your room and rest, I'll go take a look below."

He slowly closed the notebook, put it back in the secret compartment, calmly got up, and pushed open the door of the captain's cabin.

"...I will convey your suggestion to the Political Affairs Office," Belazov pondered slightly and took a light breath, "and after clear orders are issued, the project in the secret chamber will proceed as usual."

"For this departure, the accompanying personnel have been streamlined. There are only eighty-seven people on board - including himself. If there is a significant deviation in personnel, immediately conduct a roll call."

He would soon return to the island.

Project Abyss... that old case from half a century ago had left such a profound and terrifying impact that it had gradually become an unthinking taboo, but now that new living construct replicas were surfacing from the deep sea, perhaps a more proactive response should really be taken.

A faint sense of incongruity throbbed in his mind. Belazov's reason told him that something seemed wrong with what he had seen, but a hazy veil seemed to shroud his thinking. He didn't know what was wrong and felt that everything was reasonable.

Belazov on the deck withdrew his gaze from the island and turned to walk towards the captain's cabin.

The torn consciousness was fighting, but he didn't need to care about the minor differences between the two consciousnesses.

Benjamin sighed, "I thought a soldier like you would be more inclined to the ideas of these living constructs than a scholar like me."

However, the thought that "everything was abnormal" continued to jump in his mind, as if resisting the obvious incongruities of this living construct.

The cafeteria was full of sailors. The soldiers looked at the suddenly appearing general with some bewilderment and tension.

"Keywords, dagger, imagine it, confirm whether the image in your mind matches the picture on the next page."

He slowly walked through the corridor and came to the sailors' mess hall.

It was still more than two hours before arriving at Frost Island.

"...Below a thousand meters, Professor, your ideas are a little dangerous."

"My duty is to protect the safety of the City-State. This mission makes me more inclined to a cautious and conservative approach," Belazov said lightly. "So, you actually intend to restart... these 'diving devices'?"

A sailor was waiting near the captain's cabin and nodded to the general to report, "The steam core is operating normally. We will arrive at Frost One Port in four hours."

Belazov looked at Belazo's face.

Belazov's gaze swept over everyone here, then he waved his hand to them and slowly went to the bridge.

There were people here too.

Although Dagger Island was not far from Frost Island, it was still a few hours away by sea.

During this boring journey, he needed to sort out his thoughts and think carefully about how to report the matter of submersible number three to the City-State's administrators – and how to bring up the suggestions that Professor Benjamin had given at the end.

"A burn scar near his left eye..." Belazov muttered to himself, a strange sense of doubt floating in his mind.

In the center of the face was his eye, and there was only one.

"I'd rather say 'restart Project Abyss,' wouldn't I?" the old professor smiled and shook his head. "Living construct, you're not that reckless yet, but there's an inescapable fact here – the key to everything is in the deep water, and a submersible replica placed in a laboratory can't solve any mysteries. Perhaps we should really consider a 'backup plan' – not necessarily actively diving, but if a fourth or even a fifth replica surfaces, we should at least have some means of responding."

His gaze fell on the last sentence of this page in the notebook.

But if he hadn't asked just now, he wouldn't have been able to confirm whether the strangeness he had vaguely noticed really existed.

"His name, Belazov, try to spell it on the blank space on the next page."

"Belazo!" He called out the adjutant's name.