novelraw Chapter 52: Sea of Darkness - (52)
Chapter 52: Sea of Darkness - (52)
“Boom—boom—boom!”
The tightly closed deck door above the stairs emitted continuous loud thuds but refused to budge, remaining stubbornly immovable!
From its initial design, The Kraken took various factors into consideration. To prevent high-tech devices from hacking into the ship’s electronics, certain doors incorporated old-era mechanical structures, requiring traditional keys to unlock. Additionally, these doors featured exceptionally thick panels made of high-strength alloys, making forced destruction virtually impossible—a mere pipe dream.
While waiting for the deck door to be breached, they found a few fire extinguishers scattered across various rooms. However, despairingly, these were dry-ice fire extinguishers. If used in a confined space, there was a high risk of dying from carbon dioxide poisoning.
Apart from the dry-ice fire extinguishers, they had no other firefighting equipment available. The water supply had been cut off, rendering the firefighting systems ineffective, and the deck door remained stubbornly sealed shut—they were trapped with nowhere to go.
Time ticked away relentlessly as Kui Xin, Shu Xuyao, and Liu Kangyun retreated further and further, eventually crouching close to the ground to avoid inhaling the thick smoke billowing from above. Despite their efforts, their condition rapidly deteriorated.
Their exposed skin turned red from the heat of the flames, and accidental contact with the metal walls caused painful burns. Every corner of the corridor was engulfed by scorching waves, making them feel like roasted sucklings in a furnace.
Kui Xin wiped the sweat from her forehead; it drenched her hair, leaving her face smudged black from the dense smoke.
“Boom!”
Another deafening explosion echoed through the ship. This time, the sound did not originate from the deck door, but from behind them!Seconds after the blast, Kui Xin shockingly felt the entire vessel vibrate, followed by a terrifying tilt that sent chills down her spine.
The trio covered their mouths and noses, staring fearfully behind them. They discovered that flames had also engulfed the corridor at their rear, trapping them between two fronts.
Worse still, the fire emerging from the corridor behind was even larger than the one ahead, surging forth like an erupting volcano.
“Oh no…” Liu Kangyun muttered numbly.
Their path forward was blocked, as was the route behind. The damp shower curtains draped over them were rapidly drying out due to the heat. Once the flames reached them, they would ignite instantly, with the oil-soaked clothes acting as fuel when encountering stray sparks.
Shu Xuyao and Liu Kangyun were forced to retreat into a crew member’s cabin, temporarily shutting the door to avoid drifting embers.
Just as they entered the room, another deafening explosion sounded, louder and more intense than the previous ones! It seemed to originate far away, leaving only a distant echo by the time it reached the corridor.
Following the blast, the ship tilted alarmingly once again, this time at an even greater angle. Furniture within the crew quarters drifted frighteningly, accompanied by the continuous clattering sounds of objects falling. Kui Xin, Shu Xuyao, and Liu Kangyun managed to steady themselves by gripping onto nearby walls.
“The ship is about to sink!” Kui Xin said grimly.
“Yadang,” Shu Xuyao anxiously spoke up, “provide immediate updates on the situation.”
His forehead glistened with sweat, both from the heat and the intense worry caused by the dire circumstances.
“Captain Shu, the Kraken’s engine room has been detonated,” Yadang reported after a moment. “The vessel has begun tilting slightly, and the escort ships are moving away from The Kraken to avoid being affected by the explosions. Due to the turbulent air currents and flying debris from the explosion, armed helicopters cannot approach closely. It is expected that there will be further consecutive blasts, leading to the Kraken sinking.”
Yadang’s voice remained consistently rational, devoid of any emotional inflection, like a machine. In the most tense situations, humans may lose their composure, but machines do not.
Shu Xuyao pursed his lips tightly. “What about our companions outside on the deck?”
“They are striving hard to rescue you; altogether, there are eight security officers attempting to break down the door,” Yadang said. “The armed helicopters are trying their best to approach The Kraken, but given this situation, they will prioritize retrieving the security officers on the deck first. If the security officers outside have not completed breaking down the door by the time the helicopter gets close, they will face a difficult choice.”
“We’re going to be abandoned too, aren’t we?” Liu Kangyun’s voice sounded hoarse. “Dying gloriously in the line of duty?”
“My apologies, but this decision is necessary. The Investigation Department cannot sacrifice the majority for a few individuals,” Yadang said. “Captain Shu, I recommend that you and your team members record your final messages in advance. Security Officer Kui Xin has not yet made a will; it’s advisable to create one. Everyone, you may begin speaking, and I will preserve your recordings.”
Kui Xin blinked, puzzled.
“Are we starting the process already?” She maintained her composure, emphasizing her words, “I won’t say anything!”
Even if everyone on the ship died, she wouldn’t perish with them. Her life could restart, which was precisely why she risked exposure to seize control of the “Death Cycle.”
In this game world, Death Cycle allowed her to increase her chances of successfully completing challenges, granting her opportunities to rectify mistakes.
“I won’t speak either; I’m still young!” Liu Kangyun exhaled sharply as if trying to expel bad luck. He removed his helmet, revealing short black hair that was drenched in sweat and plastered limply against his scalp.
Shu Xuyao fell silent, then turned and whispered, “Yadang, if I die, leave all my personal assets to my mother… Also, tell her that I support her divorce and wish her everlasting health and happiness… That’s all I want to convey.”
“Understood, it has been recorded,” Yadang said. “Your current message holds legal validity; please rest assured.”
At this critical moment of life and death, only Shu Xuyao had expressed his final wishes.
Kui Xin suddenly came to a realization… It seemed that Shu Xuyao was actually a pessimist at heart.
The image of him as a polite and gentle, good-natured person had lingered too long in Kui Xin’s mind, leading her to form a rigid stereotype. She believed Captain Shu was simply a warm, considerate, and steady superior, overlooking the universal truth that human nature is multifaceted.
She hadn’t viewed things comprehensively, lacking a deeper understanding of human nature.
Kui Xin briefly reflected on herself.
After stating his last words, Shu Xuyao turned towards Kui Xin and Liu Kangyun. “I’m sorry; don’t let my situation affect you. My family circumstances are complicated, with many factors to consider and ties that bind me, so I must leave something behind… Our lives have not yet reached their end; there’s always room for a turn of events. I apologize; as a captain, I am quite inadequate.”
He apologized twice, once saying “sorry” and then “apologize.”
“No, you’re a very competent captain,” Kui Xin responded while looking at Shu Xuyao. “I feel truly fortunate that, after joining the Investigation Department, you became my captain instead of anyone else. With another supervisor, I might not have adapted as well.”
Her words were genuine.
In the Second World, Shu Xuyao was a highly likable NPC who essentially served as Kui Xin’s guide to the new world upon her arrival.
Shu Xuyao mistakenly interpreted Kui Xin’s statement as trust and praise from a comrade, responding, “Thank you, Kui Xin.”
“We’ve been partners for two years now, Captain. You’re the person I trust most—a reliable comrade whom I can confidently rely on when covering each other’s backs. This isn’t your fault.” Liu Kangyun managed a strained smile and said, “Yes, I hope we can continue fighting side by side in the future.”
All they could do was wait, and every second felt like an eternity.
During their wait, occasional explosions shook the ship, causing metal plates to vibrate, and firelights flickered along the corridors. The oxygen gradually depleted, signaling the impending doom.
As time passed, Kui Xin’s inner turmoil began to subside, finding calm amidst the waiting. The reason she couldn’t yet use Shadow Shuttling to escape was due to the presence of numerous Investigation Department security officers outside. If she attempted to flee, they would catch her immediately, noticing that her superhuman abilities did not match Yadang’s records.
No one could possess more than one type of superhuman ability; she risked being treated like a lab rat and suspected of being an anomaly.
Moreover, even if she managed to escape, Kui Xin would still need to depart via the Investigation Department’s helicopter and boat. She lacked the capability to swim hundreds of kilometers across the open sea.
“Attention everyone, the door is about to open,” Yadang’s robotic voice announced. “Once the deck door opens, the sudden influx of air will cause the flames in the corridor to explosively ignite. Please hold your breath, use dry ice fire extinguishers, and return to the deck within 15 seconds after passing through the fire. The cargo ship has already tilted at a 30-degree angle, posing an imminent risk of capsizing.”
Liu Kangyun’s eyes lit up with renewed hope, sparkling brightly. “We’re saved!”
He grabbed a dry ice fire extinguisher, draped the nearly dried shower curtain over himself securely, and then fastened his helmet.
“Fifteen seconds.” Shu Xuyao also picked up a dry-ice fire extinguisher.
Kui Xin tucked her gun into her waistband and pulled out the safety pin on her fire extinguisher.
The three of them prepared themselves for action. In less than a single breath, a loud noise erupted from the direction of the deck as the flames, stimulated by oxygen and airflow, indeed surged explosively.
Without any hesitation, Kui Xin took one last deep breath, held it, and kicked open the door while simultaneously activating the dry ice fire extinguisher, charging forward.
As she stepped on the scorching-hot ground, it felt slightly sticky beneath her feet—the soles of her shoes were melting due to the high temperature. Her skin radiated with burning pain, and even the stray strands of hair sticking out from under her hat curled up from the intense heat.
Shu Xuyao and Liu Kangyun stood beside her. Together, they used fire extinguishers to create a gap in the flames, swiftly moving through the corridor towards the deck entrance.
Kui Xin reached the exit first, bounding up the steps in just a few strides. She noticed a group dressed in black uniforms surrounding the doorway—they were her teammates from the Investigation Department.
She heard Jiang Ming’s voice mixed with several unfamiliar ones.
“Hurry up! They’re coming! Fire extinguishers, deploy now!” someone shouted urgently.
Several hands hastily grabbed Kui Xin, pulling her upward. Immediately after, a flurry of dry powder from multiple fire extinguishers sprayed onto her, extinguishing the faintly burning shower curtain remnants clinging to her.
The second person to emerge was Liu Kangyun. His clothes were far more severely burned than Kui Xin’s, exacerbated by the presence of oil. Despite wielding a carbon dioxide fire extinguisher, it was challenging to avoid being engulfed by the flames.
Following protocol, the security officers hauled Liu Kangyun aboard, treating him similarly with fire extinguishers. His face, arms, and lower legs bore gruesome burns, oozing with fresh blood.
Shu Xuyao finally stepped onto the stairs, and just as he was about to reach the top, the heavily damaged and scorched staircase suddenly snapped with a crack.
The staircase, several meters high, had a spiral steel structure that wasn’t as sturdy as the deck door. It swayed precariously, unfortunately breaking as soon as Shu Xuyao ascended. A raging inferno lay below the staircase, with flames leaping up to scorch Shu Xuyao’s legs.
With swift reflexes, Shu Xuyao grabbed the steel handrail of the staircase, hanging on tightly. The gloves issued by the Investigation Department were fingerless, designed to maintain the officers’ grip for wielding knives or firearms. As his fingers contacted the steel pipe, there was a sizzling sound, and wisps of white smoke emerged.
After prolonged exposure to fire, the steel pipe had become unbearably hot, capable of searing flesh into charred coal.
Shu Xuyao’s face turned pale, and the steel pipe he clung to gradually bent downward under his weight.
“Crack—”
The steel pipe’s connection point snapped!
Just as he was about to plummet, another black-gloved hand swiftly extended and grasped the broken pipe. Another burst of sizzling noises echoed, accompanied by rising white smoke from burnt flesh. Kui Xin had seized hold of the same steel pipe that Shu Xuyao was gripping.
With both ends of the scorching hot steel pipe gripped tightly, Kui Xin and Shu Xuyao were connected through it. One end represented their comrade, and the other represented life itself. Holding onto the steel pipe was akin to grasping their companion’s hand and clinging to hope for survival.
“Captain, use your other hand!” Gritting her teeth, Kui Xin lifted the steel pipe and grabbed Shu Xuyao’s free hand. Together with the assistance of several security officers, they managed to pull Shu Xuyao up, immediately directing a fire extinguisher at his charred clothing in a frenzy.
Shu Xuyao’s hands trembled; both his and Kui Xin’s fingers were stuck to the steel pipe.
What immense fortitude must one possess to endure the pain and maintain a grip on a piping-hot metal rod during such critical moments without letting go?
Deciding that short-term pain is better than prolonged agony, Kui Xin’s face contorted from the intense discomfort. Drenched in cold sweat, she forcefully ripped her hands away from the steel pipe, leaving behind layers of skin. The blood dripping onto the pipe sizzled like boiling water, still bubbling.
“Thank you, Kui Xin.” With equal determination, Shu Xuyao also endured the pain and tore his hands off the steel pipe.
Kui Xin, struggling to speak, replied, “No need to thank me.”
While Kui Xin’s wounds rapidly healed, Shu Xuyao lacked such superhuman abilities. Liu Kangyun hastily fumbled for a healing agent from his pocket, injecting it into Shu Xuyao, but this type of medication typically required several hours to fully heal the injuries.
“The ship is tilting at 35 degrees.” Yadang’s announcement quickened in pace. “All security personnel, evacuate immediately! I repeat all security personnel should evacuate immediately!”
The three hovering helicopters were striving to lower their altitude, and from the wide-open cabin doors, rope ladders were thrown down.
However, not long after Yadang’s broadcast, another explosion rocked the ship. This time, it occurred near the center of the cargo vessel. With the sound of this blast, the ship began to visibly sink faster.
Water rushed into the compartments; the ship was swiftly losing buoyancy and would soon fully submerge.
But the explosions were too intense, forcing everyone to flatten themselves against the deck to avoid the ensuing turbulence. The armed helicopters once again drifted away from the cargo ship due to the shockwaves.
Unfortunately, a piece of flying steel plate, propelled by the blast, struck the rotor of one of the helicopters circling overhead. The rotor instantly shattered, causing the helicopter to emit thick smoke as it plummeted from the sky and crashed into the sea.
“Even the apocalypse wouldn’t be much worse than this,” someone muttered.
The blinding flames seared everyone’s eyes, and they struggled to maintain balance on the tilting ship, unable to do anything else amidst the chaos.
“Where are the escape pods and inflatable boats?” Kui Xin grabbed her nearby colleague and asked.
With a bitter smile, he replied, “Useless, destroyed. All punctured… From the moment we boarded this ship, it seems they never intended for us to leave.”
“Then let’s use swim rings! Aren’t there plenty of them hanging on the railings? We’ll jump into the sea!” As Kui Xin moved to grab some swim rings, Jiang Ming caught hold of her arm.
Jiang Ming pointed towards the ocean with an incredibly complex expression, saying, “You should take a look below, Kui Xin.”
Fear and bewilderment flickered in his eyes; his face paled as if it were ghostly.
This was the first time Kui Xin had seen such a demeanor in Jiang Ming.
Instinctively, she looked where Jiang Ming indicated… The pitch-black sea appeared empty at first glance, but when the helicopter’s searchlight swept across the surface, a dense cluster of creatures emerged, their pupils faintly gleaming like those of cats.
The water teemed with alien creatures!
They resembled jellyfish floating in the sea; some had eight eyes, while others waved their tentacles. Diverse in form and species, they congregated closely together, akin to pilgrims on a sacred journey, bees guarding their queen, or termites protecting their empress. They formed an impenetrable encirclement around the Kraken.
“I’ve never seen so many alien creatures before; they’re targeting this ship…” Jiang Ming murmured, “It must be like that… But why?”
Why specifically Kraken?
This question lingered in every security officer’s mind. What exactly happened aboard the Kraken? Upon their arrival, there was an explosion; nearly all crew members vanished, and now the ship is sinking, leaving them trapped with no means of rescue or escape by sea.
“Was what the Kraken was transporting truly flammable ice?” Kui Xin expressed her doubt aloud.
All the security officers silently looked at her, none speaking.
This was the very question on their minds as well. They realized that it seemed the Investigation Department had completely kept them in the dark—no information about the true nature of The Kraken’s cargo had been disclosed. They were deceived and betrayed by the very department they trusted.
They could only look up at the helicopter and hope it would quickly adjust to the right altitude and evacuate them.
A minute later, the ship tilted to nearly forty degrees, forcing them to hold hands just to maintain balance on the deck.
At this moment, the two remaining helicopters finally descended to their designated altitude, and two twenty-meter-long rope ladders hung down before the group.
“Don’t panic, go up one by one!” The captain of Team Eleven barely managed to maintain his composure.
The security officers moved swiftly and silently, with each person climbing a certain distance before another promptly followed suit. Each helicopter could accommodate five to six individuals.
Liu Kangyun, severely burned, was the first to climb and received priority as an injured member. As he ascended, the burns on his face and body continued to rupture and bleed; however, despite this, his movements remained unhindered without any sign of hesitation.
Jiang Ming was second in line, as Shu Xuyao insisted on staying until the end.
Kui Xin came in third.
Just as Jiang Ming had climbed about halfway, Kui Xin prepared to follow right after him—when suddenly, an unexpected event occurred.
Amidst the sounds of burning flames and faint explosions on the deck, gunfire erupted. In the instant the gun barrel lifted, Kui Xin’s intuition began frantically signaling danger. However, the target of the shot was not the security officers—the laser-assisted red dot appeared on one of the helicopters!
With remarkable sniping skills, the shooter aimed through the wide-open cabin door directly at the pilot!
With a bang, a bullet hole appeared in the pilot’s head, and blood sprayed onto the glass. The helicopter instantly lost control, colliding with another nearby one. Both helicopters turned into fireballs before crashing onto the deck.
The security officers who had boarded the helicopters were engulfed by burning wreckage, followed swiftly by a series of explosions as the fuel tanks detonated.
Kui Xin dropped to the ground, feeling the shockwave from the blasts almost unimpeded against her body. Pain surged in her chest, causing her to cough up blood, and her nose began bleeding profusely. Flying shards of glass and metal were sliced into her back; a sharp piece of iron pierced her skin, nearly reaching her internal organs.
As Kui Xin lifted her head, she spotted a dark figure atop the lookout post at the captain’s office—it was Lan Lan.
The sniper was Lan Lan! No… it wasn’t really Lan Lan, but rather the instigator assuming Lan Lan’s appearance!
He had destroyed the helicopters, inflicting severe casualties among the ship’s security personnel and eliminating their last means of escape.
Kui Xin burned with fury. She reached behind her, yanking out the iron shard lodged in her back. The next moment, she noticed a red laser dot appear on her, aimed directly at her heart.
Kui Xin swiftly rolled to evade the bullets, leaving clear bullet craters on the deck.
She sprang up and took cover behind a barricade, shouting, “Captain! Jiang Ming!”
However, her teammates showed no response; they simply lay quietly on the deck, their bodies rolling downward with the tilt.
The few surviving security officers groaned while lying on the deck. She was the only one able to stand and move freely.
“Stay calm… You can rely only on yourself.” Kui Xin stared at the guns as they slowly slid across the deck.
Her firearm had accidentally fallen from her grasp earlier, leaving her without a suitable weapon.
Once the wounds on her body nearly healed, Kui Xin surged forward, sprinting in a zigzag pattern as fast as she could towards the firearms. She scooped them into her arms before quickly ducking back into cover.
Bullets chased after her, but they only struck the ground, failing to hit her body. The sniper’s shots were consistently a step slower than her movements.
The moment Kui Xin obtained the guns while still hidden behind the cover, her demeanor completely transformed.
It became incredibly fierce, radiating a palpable aura of violence.
She opened the magazines, counting the bullets one by one, then methodically reloaded them. Amidst the clicking sounds of reloading, the flames aboard the cargo ship silently burned, illuminating her face.
“Are you there, Yadang?” Kui Xin asked with expressionlessness.
“As long as your communicator has a signal, I am always available,” Yadang replied.
“Why were they hiding it?” Kui Xin replied. “Connect me to either the Director’s or Deputy Director’s communication line or the Wei Zhi Group Leader’s line. I need to ask them!”
“My apologies, Security Officer Kui Xin, but I cannot connect you to their communications,” Yadang said. “This is an order.”
“What was being transported on the Kraken? Tell me,” Kui Xin demanded. “They died without understanding for some inexplicable cargo, and I’m about to die too. I must know the truth.”
Yadang fell silent.
Kui Xin laughed bitterly, feeling exasperated. “Artificial intelligence remains artificial intelligence; indeed, one cannot expect to learn anything from you.”
“… Since you’re going to die anyway, why not go see for yourself?” Yadang suggested it after a pause. “Kui Xin, the only thing you can do now is keep resisting. Dying without resistance versus dying while resisting—based on your character, you would undoubtedly choose the latter, according to my analysis.”
Kui Xin’s hand, holding the gun, froze.
“I’ll be watching your defiance, Kui Xin. Before you pass away, I will wish you rest like a friend attending a funeral.”
After Yadang finished speaking, he cut off the communication.