Deep Sea Embers.

Chapter 816 Then, Death
As the fleet sailed further north, the surrounding temperature became colder, as if "cold" had become a certain "attribute" of the entire sea ahead. No matter how strong the fire was or how many warm clothes there were, they could only slightly delay the invasion of the cold but could not really bring warmth to people.

In this cold and endless night, the ships of the Deep Sea Church delivered the last batch of documents to the Firebringer's Church Ark - they came from the night, docked beside the Firebringer's Ark for several hours, and then returned to the depths of the night.

Frame stood on the tall tower of the Church Ark, looking at the gradually blurring silhouettes on the distant sea. The distant whistle was still echoing in the night sky, and finally dissolving into the wind.

"This may be the last time we see other people from the civilized world," the tall Sen'jin Pope turned his head and said to the priestess standing beside him, "After this, the temple will stay in the north - the Ark is the archive, and the archive is the Ark."

"We are all ready for this," the priestess said calmly, "We will stop in the eternal ice and watch the last cluster of fire after the night until the end of this long night... It is an honor to follow you here, Your Majesty."

Frame was silent for a moment, then said softly, "Yes, I'm honored too."

At the end of his vision, far ahead of the Ark Fleet, a vague white silhouette was quietly appearing on the sea.

That is the frozen sea area located in the extreme north of the Frigid Sea, the coldest place in the world, where all things are frozen and remain eternal in the ice - that is the final resting place of the Fire Bearer.

At the same time, in the Frost City, Tirian was standing on the high balcony of the Government Hall, quietly gazing at the countless lights and row upon row of roofs in the distant streets.

The fragments of the sun have left the city-state. Many days ago, a tugboat took the huge luminous geometric object to a place where it was more needed. Now the whole city is being lit up by artificial lights. The bright street lights and the lights of thousands of households converge into a river in the night, outlining every outline of the city and continuing the order and tranquility of the civilized world.

People seemed to have gradually adapted to this long night.

The new curfew system was implemented smoothly. After the initial tension and chaos, factories and markets have now resumed orderly operation. Residents have reduced the number of times they leave their homes, but within the allowed time, everyone is still trying to maintain their daily lives as much as possible. There have been several attempts by sewer rats to sabotage the city, but they were quickly subdued by the guards and sheriff's forces.

Now, the "Sunshine Fleet" dragging the sun fragments is cruising on the vast ocean between the city-states. The huge fleet of cargo ships accompanying the Sunshine Fleet travels back and forth in the night, and has restored 60% to 70% of the bulk logistics transportation between the city-states. The periodic arrival of "sunshine" has also greatly reduced the pressure on various cities when facing the night. Although the distortion and mutation incidents are increasing everywhere, at least the guardians now have a chance to breathe again -

The challenges they face are more severe than ever before, but at least it is no longer the endless darkness of despair.

Sometimes, Tirian even felt that all this could go on for a long time - a new balance had been established, civilization had shown amazing adaptability in this long night, people were now accustomed to this long night, the city-state federation, the time-limited curfew system, the new night watch order, the cruising sunlight... These things seemed enough to keep the whole world going, even if it wasn't forever, then it could last for a very, very long time.

But every time he thought like this, he would soon wake up suddenly and realize that all this was just an illusion brought to him by the brief peace, or even an illusion brought to him by the night.

The world is sliding towards the end, and the speed of its slide is even faster than anyone can imagine.

Because he knew about the "corruption" of the gods, about the slow and inexorable disintegration that was taking place in the foundations of the world, and he knew a lot because of his father's influence.

But... what would other people think? The governors of other city-states, the administrators of the church, the guards and sheriffs, and the ordinary people living in the city... Would they also have the illusion of peace and accidentally sink into the illusory peace?

"...Maybe it's not a bad thing." Tirian whispered to himself.

Aiden's voice came from the side: "Huh? What's not a bad thing?"

"Nothing, just talking to myself." Tirian withdrew his gaze from the lights of the distant block and turned to look at Aiden's shining bald head. "Where were we talking about just now?"

"Regarding the production adjustments of several factories in the Lower City," Aiden was stunned for a moment, then quickly reacted and continued, "The Coordination Committee believes that there is a slight shortage of oil production capacity. Although it is not a big problem at the moment, the gap will become serious over time..."

"I see. I have read the report this afternoon and told the Coordinating Committee. The City Hall will give a reply before tomorrow morning." Tirian waved his hand. "Anything else?"

"Um..." Aiden hesitated for a moment, and said with a slightly hesitant tone, "Also, the Great Furnace reported something...strange."

"Something strange?" Tirian frowned slightly in dissatisfaction. "Don't be so hesitant. Is this how you report?"

Aiden quickly coughed twice, adjusted his posture and expression, and said, "A department reported that they haven't had any assignments for a while, and the head of the department felt that...something was a little strange."

Tirian's brow furrowed further. He suddenly felt a little uneasy, as if some information was slipping out of his mind: "...There is a department? What do you mean by 'there is a department'? What department is it?"

"I don't know. The contents of the report are a bit confusing. It was sent to my office, but I can't find out who sent it. Many of the words on it are unclear..."

Aiden explained, and the more he explained, the more confused he looked. His voice slowed down little by little, and in the end, it was like a stuck puppet, squeezing out words one by one: "...Just remember...they...are responsible for...the burning..."

Aiden stopped and stood there motionless, looking at Tirian with a somewhat dazed expression.

After another two or three seconds, he trembled visibly as if he had suddenly woken up, and then he said calmly and fluently: "...The production capacity of the Boiling Gold Mine has returned to the level before 'nightfall'. The excess ore is now being loaded onto the ship. The next time the Sunshine Fleet passes by, they will be delivered according to the order..."

Tirian seemed not to be listening to the report about the Boiling Gold Mine at all. When Aiden spoke again, he stared at him intently. His eyes were even a little scary. Aiden hesitated and stopped in the middle of his speech. He looked uneasy in the face of heavy and inexplicable pressure: "Uh... what's wrong with what I said?"

"Aiden," Tirian said, still staring at the subordinate who had followed him for a century, his tone was particularly solemn, "Do you remember what you were reporting just now?"

Aiden was stunned for a moment, and looked at Tirian cautiously: "Um... the production capacity of the Boiling Gold Mine, the production adjustments of several factories in the lower city, and the warning of the Coordination Committee on the shortage of fuel? Earlier, we were talking about the Firebringer Fleet heading north..."

He paused, hesitant, for something was clearly wrong with Tirian's expression.

"The Crucible," Tirian said solemnly, "Do you remember the report a department of the Crucible sent to you?"

Aiden looked blank: "...What report?"

Tirian did not speak. He just raised his head and looked towards the edge of the upper city, towards... a cemetery.

A swirling wind passed through the night, swept across the streets and blew into the depths of the cemetery. The wind was filled with gray dust, and from the dust, the image of Agatha condensed.

Today she changed out of the black dress that represented a bishop, and put on the light armor and combat jacket she wore when she was a gatekeeper. The wounds on her cheeks and arms that were cracked like those on a broken doll were flickering with faint green flames. She hurried here from the Cathedral of Death in the upper city, but as soon as she entered the cemetery, the anxious priestess of death saw a scene she had not expected.

The tall, bandaged cemetery keeper "Duncan" was standing on the path next to the morgue, helping a trembling figure to climb out of a nearby coffin. The figure was obviously a corpse not long ago - his neck was bent at a strange angle, his head drooped on one shoulder, and he climbed down the platform stiffly and slowly, his joints making disturbing cracking sounds from time to time.

The tall and burly gravekeeper "Duncan" who looked gloomy and scary helped the corpse climb down the platform and warned calmly: "...Yes, it's normal to have some headaches. Maybe it will be better when you go back...You need to fix your neck. You can use a wooden rack or fire tongs. Keep a good mood and pretend that you got lost overnight after drinking too much. Your family won't complain - they will welcome you back calmly. There are many people like you anyway."

As he was talking, the sound of a coffin lid opening was heard from another morgue platform nearby. A white-haired old man sat up from inside and looked around in confusion: "Why am I sleeping here? I feel chest tightness..."

"Wait a minute, I'll help you down," Duncan immediately walked over there again, "Don't come down by yourself, your broken leg may not heal...Breathe, it's normal to have chest tightness, you've been holding it for a long time...Yes, keep breathing, take a deep breath--"

Duncan suddenly stopped, turned around and looked at the gatekeeper who was standing on the path in a daze.

"Oh, you're here." He greeted calmly.

"...Mr. Duncan," Agatha stared at the scene in amazement, "What are you doing?"

"It seems that your cognition has not been completely corrected," Duncan said lightly, and then turned back to his "work", "As you can see, I am sending my temporary 'guests' back."

(End of this chapter)