Bola couldn’t believe this was an illusion anymore, under this threat of death, he was very alert.
"Aren’t you familiar with the Silent Sea? What’s happening here!"
Bola struggled to get up, not knowing when the quiet night sky had beco restless. He felt the wind hitting his face, and it was gradually getting stronger.
"No... we must stop twilight, Nagilfah must stay here, it cannot proceed any further."
In the eyes of the Vikings, the Horned Whale beneath their feet was turning into the giant disaster-bringing ship Nagilfah. His words made Bola feel sothing ominous, and he imdiately raised his gun at him.
The Viking ignored Bola, drew two battle axes from his waist, and stood firmly on the deck praying in a low voice for sothing, then roared and leaped out the next mont.
"Valhalla!"
Bola heard him shout.
The Viking swung his axes at Bola, causing Bola to pull the trigger in desperation.
But at this mont, it seems the Horned Whale collided with sothing, the jolt this ti was even more intense than before, and Bola’s bullet missed. He was thrown off the Horned Whale entirely.
At this life-and-death mont, Bola saw the Viking’s agile figure. Years of fighting on the longship had taught these Vikings how to maintain balance in such harsh conditions.
The battle axe severed flesh and bone, the pungent sll of blood instantly spread.
He wasn’t aiming to kill Bola; soti, the dead had already climbed onto the Horned Whale. They resembled humans but were emaciated, probably from long exposure to low temperatures. Their joints were stiff and deford, moving much slower.
The Viking crazily slaughtered these dead ones, continuously uttering exhilarating war cries. Similar scenes happened elsewhere on the Horned Whale; war cries could be heard responding to him.
Next, what happens Bola probably couldn’t see. Entirely airborne, he could hear the rushing sound of water and those sharp friction noises, estimating he would fall into the sea in less than three seconds and be torn to pieces by those ghastly beings.
Bola found himself sowhat laughable, that he would die so easily like this. As he thought so, he hit the cold hull hard, feeling his nose bridge break, but the good news was that he seed to have stopped falling.
Looking up, soone grabbed his wrist at the critical mont. The person, imnse in strength, forcibly dragged Bola up.
"Lord Willgardson?"
Bola was thrown onto the deck and struggled to stand up, sowhat unbelieving.
"I rember you, the recorder."
The Lord smiled at Bola; who knows how big his heart is, able to smile in such a situation.
Froki Willgardson, the navigator of this Silent Sea operation, if unexpected, he would be the Viking most knowledgeable about the Silent Sea. Fully ard, draped in animal skins and armor, holding a battle axe, he looked like a savage primitive man.
"Thank you, Bola."
Bola wiped the blood from his nose, checked the file bag in his arms, and followed the Lord with his gun.
"What is going on?"
In Bola’s view, this Lord seed to have a brain, at least able to communicate, unlike the previous Viking who mysteriously chatted then suddenly started attacking.
"The dead, citizens of the Land of the Dead, they should have been asleep in the dark seabed, buried by cold gravel."
The Lord strode forward, unstoppable under his imnse strength with his battle axe, easily slaying the dead. Severed limbs and corpses were cast into the sea. He abruptly stopped, turned, and angrily spoke to Bola.
"They should have stayed asleep there, but your people woke them up."
"Woke them up..."
Bola swallowed.
Silence, utter silence was here, no wind, no waves, no life; only absolute silence. But the roar of the engine just now broke the silence.
"This indeed is our mistake; I didn’t expect it to be so... brilliant."
Lancelot ca over with his head raised, gazing at the splendid aurora, still gently changing over ti, colorful like the colors of stars.
"We checked, it was the Chief Mate who did this, he was too deeply influenced by the corrosion, this magnificent aurora making him lose his reason."
Lancelot’s expression was oppressive.
"Where is he?" the Lord asked.
"He’s dead; I killed him. When I arrived, he had already begun to mutate," more soldiers surged onto the deck as Lancelot spoke. Well-equipped, gunshots rang out continuously, "The internal situation is under control now; we only need to hold off these external demons."
"You call these things demons, do you?"
The Lord glanced at those things tumbling in the sea.
"More or less, unlike your myths, to us these creatures have traces and really exist."
Lancelot spoke lightly, but the pressure inside him hadn’t lessened.
Outside the Purification chanism’s cognition, there are indeed so many demons in this bizarre sea area, and this seems just the tip of the iceberg.
The Lord looked ahead of the Horned Whale, unlike before in ice-covered regions, in front lay a boundless white ice field.
The Horned Whale pressed over the ice layer, the source of the intense turbulence just now. They could hardly turn under such circumstances, not to ntion so many demons nearby.
"We’ve awakened this sea area; worse things will happen next."
The Lord spoke with a palpitating heart. He could feel, the wind had beco furious, along with it ca the cold... perhaps this light trail points to death.
"Then find a way to solve it. Before we were lost in this sea, now the route has appeared, just follow it." Lancelot said.
"What, you want to continue forward?"
The Lord thought he was crazy, but admittedly, deep down, the Lord liked this madness.
"No, we’re heading back."
Lancelot raised his hand, pointing at the light trail in the night sky. It spanned the horizon, indicating the endpoint and the starting point.
"Follow it back."
The Lord stayed silent, but everyone felt his mood change. He widened his eyes, staring fixedly at the overhead light trail, then shifted to Lancelot.
Their eyes directly t without any obstruction. Whether conspiracy or bizarre, at this mont, everything beca transparent.
Lancelot seed to know what the Lord was thinking. He tried to smile and then tightened the revolver at his waist.
"Our mission is rely collecting information from the Silent Sea; there’s no need to risk everyone’s lives, and you are only our hireling, wouldn’t need to ’go all out’."
"I know..."
The Lord softly responded.
The sudden solemn atmosphere made Bola slightly uncomfortable, as if he were an outsider, unaware of what happened.
The sturdy ice layer hindered the Horned Whale’s speed, its progress slowed. The dead seized this opportunity to climb faster onto the deck, gunshots and war cries continued, though blood was heavy, humans still held the advantage.
"Then why are you hesitating, Lord Froki Willgardson?"
Lancelot shouted, hoping the Lord could stay clear-headed and make the right choice.
The Lord indeed reacted, looking enlightened and clear-headed as if only affected by erosion monts ago, he continued.
"Ah... yes, you’re right, we should indeed go back."
As Froki Willgardson said, he pulled out a heavy revolver from beneath his armor. No one expected this primitive-like guy to carry a gun, the muzzle pointed at Lancelot.
The revolver’s silver-white chamber engraved with ghost gods, its tallic surface vaguely reflected Bola’s frightened face. As the trigger was pulled, the chamber rotated accordingly, shredding the blurry scene to pieces.
The dead’s bell tolled.
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