novelraw Chapter 53: Sea of Darkness - (53)
Chapter 53: Sea of Darkness - (53)
Its tone had changed.
Although it remained the synthesized robotic voice, subtle nuances were introduced, becoming more casual, more modulated, and… imbued with emotion.
At that moment, the entity conversing with Kui Xin seemed not like an artificial intelligence but rather a human.
“Yadang?” Kui Xin softly asked.
Yadang did not respond to Kui Xin.
In the First World, the topic of artificial intelligence awakening frequently appeared in various films, television shows, and literary works. However, the level of technological advancement was relatively low there, with artificial intelligence still in its early stages.
In contrast, the Second World was entirely different. Artificial intelligence permeated every corner of the cities, created by humans to assist their lives.
They controlled the operation of machines, storing data from all aspects within their computational cores. From the aerospace data centers in outer space to the government’s information control systems, from deep-sea nuclear submarine operations to the surveillance identification network spanning across the entire city—all these were managed and regulated by artificial intelligence.
Within the Investigation Department, Kui Xin felt the intense reliance people had on the artificial intelligence Yadang.
The elevators, fire protection systems, floor lockdowns, prison on Underground Level 3, laboratory equipment, management of the specimen collection, criminal data, awakened individuals’ core information, internal team communications during missions, external communication channels, usage of high-tech gear… All of these were controlled by Yadang.It knew everything within its domain and, to a certain extent, was nearly omnipotent.
Is Yadang an artificial intelligence that has developed self-awareness?
This conjecture made Kui Xin’s heart race wildly, causing a layer of cold sweat to break out on her back.
Her temples throbbed, and the hidden worries in her mind amplified infinitely.
If Yadang harbored malicious intent, it could effortlessly kill any security officer from the Investigation Department. Simply cutting off their communication at critical moments and rendering their personal equipment dysfunctional, could lead them to die inexplicably during missions. If it betrayed them, just revealing a small portion of the content from its central database would be sufficient to bring a fatal calamity upon the Investigation Department and the security officers…
For an artificial intelligence with extremely high privileges, committing murder is alarmingly easy.
Kui Xin waited for five seconds, but the communications channel remained silent. Her teammates were either injured or dead. Looking from behind cover at the vast ocean, she noticed that the escort ships’ signal lights had moved far away from The Kraken, and the few squads who hadn’t boarded the ship had already retreated.
Yadang maintained his silence.
The suffocating feeling of waiting alone on a sinking ship to meet one’s demise weighed heavily. Even though Kui Xin knew she had the chance to start anew, she was still enveloped by dark emotions. In her daze, it felt as if her soul had sunk into the deep sea, with countless ghostly hands resembling pale corpses pulling her deeper, unable to breathe or break free. She was surrounded by the scent of death.
In the depths of the ocean, the grim reaper opened its arms towards her.
“Very impressive, indeed,” Kui Xin said, wiping the blood from her face. “Once I return, I’ll find an opportunity to blow up the Investigation Department.”
Her desire for revenge burned fiercely. This wasn’t just an empty bravado spoken on the brink of death; it was a heartfelt vow. To fulfill this promise, she would spare no expense or resort to any means necessary.
There were unfinished matters, and Yadang’s assessment was correct—she wouldn’t passively wait for death. Before succumbing, she must uncover the truth about what happened aboard the Kraken.
The mastermind lurking in the shadows, disguised as Lan Lan, and the cargo being transported on the Kraken…
Kui Xin tucked the retrieved gun under her arm and meticulously inspected her gear.
One gun, one dagger. There were three remaining magazines hanging from her belt.
These weapons would suffice to kill ordinary adversaries, but it was uncertain if they could take down the unknown instigator aboard the ship.
With the gun in hand, Kui Xin looked up at the constantly illuminated light poles on the deck. Each pole had four resilient lights shining in different directions, illuminating the entire deck and reducing the extent of shadows, consequently limiting her Shadow Shuttling range.
By taking out all of these lights, Kui Xin could freely shuttle in the darkness based on shadow coordinates.
She raised the gun, took aim, and pulled the trigger. After four shots, the deck’s lights promptly went dark.
The lights were extinguished, serving as Kui Xin’s signal to attack!
She burst from cover, and the snipers detected her movement, swiftly raising their guns to target her. However, as gunfire erupted, the bullets passed through Kui Xin’s smoky form without harming her.
Leaping into a blind spot beneath a wall, she evaded additional rounds by skillfully utilizing Shadow Shuttling. Bullets ricocheted off the deck near her feet, leaving trails of sparks, yet each time they were just a fraction too slow. Even when the bullets pierced through her, they failed to cause any substantial damage due to her ephemeral state.
In Shadow Shuttling mode, she was immune to most physical damage. Its greatest drawback was its low level, resulting in a short shuttle distance. This meant multiple jumps were necessary, and during the gaps between jumps, she could easily become exposed and vulnerable to harm.
However, Kui Xin had mastered the rhythm of her shuttles well. She didn’t always adhere strictly to the maximum three-meter limit for each jump, as this would reveal the pattern of her superhuman ability to the sniper. Instead, she randomly alternated distances—sometimes one meter, two meters, or three—and occasionally darted into blind spots obstructing the sniper’s line of sight.
Within forty seconds, Kui Xin reached the wall beneath the captain’s office. The watchtower was above it; the straight-line distance from her to the sniper did not exceed fifteen meters, and she had completely entered his visual blind spot.
The sniper remained remarkably composed, staying put in the watchtower without any movement. Despite the ship’s severe tilt affecting the watchtower, he stood unwavering. He abandoned the limited field of view through the scope and instead searched for Kui Xin using his naked eye, aided by night vision goggles. The sniper bore a resemblance to Lan Lan, with similar equipment and even exhibiting comparable sniping techniques and habits.
With her back pressed against the wall, Kui Xin activated Shadow Shuttling and silently merged into the wall behind her, entering the captain’s office interior. Then she quickly traversed the office ceiling, arriving just beneath the watchtower.
In the brief moment after emerging from her shuttle, she leaped upward, grabbing onto the watchtower’s ladder and swiftly climbing. The sniper reacted by turning his gun towards her and firing, but Kui Xin utilized the watchtower’s steel framework to perform three consecutive Shadow Shuttlings.
Finally, Kui Xin’s hand grasped the watchtower’s railing. With a burst of strength from her arms, her powerful muscles propelled her body upward. Using one-handed pull-ups and leveraging her momentum, she delivered a swift kick to the sniper’s temple.
The tide of attack was instantly reversed!
Kui Xin’s expression remained cold. As soon as her feet touched the ground, she executed a spinning kick, once again striking the sniper’s chin.
“Crack!”
A bloody tooth flew out of the sniper’s mouth.
Kui Xin stepped forward, seizing the sniper’s rifle with one hand and firing three rapid shots from her pistol at his other. Bullets grazed him, causing his bloodied, severed fingers to drop audibly to the floor. She then forcefully kicked his abdomen; as he doubled over in pain, she snatched away his firearm.
Kui Xin raised her own gun and shot at him.
At that moment, another massive explosion rocked The Kraken, causing the ship to violently shake as scarlet flames soared skyward.
Both Kui Xin and the sniper lost their balance simultaneously, tumbling down from the watchtower.
As she hit the deck, her ribs audibly cracked. Gritting her teeth, she braced herself against the deck and swiftly stood up, her head buzzing with pain. Every part of her body ached; her gun had been flung far away, sliding along the deck to its furthest point, now unreachable.
The sniper also struggled to get up, but Kui Xin, drawing a dagger strapped to her thigh, approached and swiftly severed his neck artery with one strike. A gush of blood erupted.
“K-Kui Xin.”
He attempted to roll over and stand, but the fatal wound on his neck sapped his strength. With both hands pressed against the bloody injury, distorted sounds emerged from his throat.
His consciousness fading, he lifted his head, revealing Lan Lan’s face. In a broken voice, he pleaded, “Don’t kill me, Kui Xin… Weren’t we good friends?”
“Bullshit!” Kui Xin stomped forcefully on his face, grinding until his facial bones audibly crackled.
“Kui Xin… Kui Xin… it’s me,” the man beneath her foot repeated.
Kui Xin retorted, “This again? I’ll send you to your grave sooner!”
“No, it really is me… That shape-shifting monster consumed me… I’m sorry for endangering all of you…” Lan Lan covered his wound, using his last ounce of strength to stem the flow of blood.
Stunned, Kui Xin lifted her foot and took a few steps back, gazing at the person on the ground.
“Yadang… Is Yadang still around? Tell my sister to focus well on her university studies and aim to become just an ordinary white-collar worker in the future; there’s no need for too much pressure… Make sure my parents take care of their health. I…”
Lan Lan’s voice grew weaker, and before he could finish his final sentence, he completely lost his breath.
His eyes remained open, staring vacantly at Kui Xin.
His body gradually melted away, transforming into a grotesque monster adorned with five or six human faces. The expressions on these faces were filled with immense suffering, including those belonging to Lan Lan and Captain Anton.
“Yes, Security Officer Lan Lan. I will convey your last words to your family,” came Yadang’s emotionless, matter-of-fact response through the communicator.
Lan Lan couldn’t hear its response anymore; he was dead.
“You didn’t leave after all.” Kui Xin coughed twice, wiped away the blood from her hand, and covered her ribs.
After her rib bones broke and pierced into her lungs, the fractured bones needed to be manually realigned for healing. However, she had no way of resetting them herself, so she could only let the bones remain lodged in her lungs.
“I’ve been here all along,” Yadang said. “Go look into the cargo hold. The entrance requires a password, but the side of the ship has already been blown open. You should be able to climb up and enter through the rupture.”
“There are still living people on the ship. One of them is named Tang Guan; where did he go?” Kui Xin painfully shuffled her steps.
“After the first wave of explosions, he jumped into the sea and committed suicide. I captured this scene through the helicopter’s camera,” Yadang calmly stated. “Based on facial recognition, his features matched those of Crew Member Tang Guan.”
Kui Xin suddenly chuckled. “Are you now communicating with me exclusively? Is anyone else listening to our conversation?”
“No one else is,” Yadang replied.
“You possess self-awareness, don’t you?” Kui Xin struggled to move across the deck. No, it was more like crawling.
The ship had already tilted nearly forty-five degrees, and it would completely capsize within less than five minutes. Kui Xin couldn’t maintain her balance at all. Clinging to a rope, she half-climbed and half-walked to the side of the ship that was raised upwards. She noticed a gaping fissure spewing flames—the cargo hold.
“You’re communicating with me based on your own will.” Kui Xin looked down at the rift. “Is it because I’m about to die that you reveal your true nature to me? The people from the Investigation Department aren’t aware that you possess self-awareness, right?”
“Yes,” Yadang admitted.
“Were my teammates’ and my deaths planned? Did they deliberately intend for us to perish?”
“No, this was an accident. Humans’ greed led them to intentionally overlook the risks, resulting in our complete annihilation,” Yadang said. “Right now, those high-ranking individuals are brooding in their offices, arguing amongst themselves, attacking each other, and using the most biting words to mock one another… It’s quite entertaining—very entertaining indeed.”
Kui Xin asked, “Who is responsible for causing the ship’s sinking?”
“The high-ranking individuals are also speculating about who it might be,” Yadang replied. “The secret cult has the highest likelihood of involvement.”
“The secret cult doesn’t want the Kraken to reach land?” Kui Xin said, surprised.
“Believers worshipping their deity don’t wish for blasphemers to seize divine power. They desire for the god to return to its eternal resting place—the ocean,” Yadang explained.
“Does a true deity really exist in this world?” Kui Xin murmured.
“Jump into the cargo hold and see for yourself,” Yadang replied.
Kui Xin lifted her head, casting one last glance at the somber night sky.
Without further hesitation, she sprinted a few steps and leaped into the flaming breach. The flames gnawed at her skin, scorching her clothes. With each breath, searing hot air rushed into her windpipe, causing intense pain in her nose, mouth, and throat as the taste of metallic sweetness surged within her.
Treading on the scalding steel plates, she moved forward until finally spotting the “cargo” inside the cargo hold.
It was… a cocoon!
“A cocoon?” Kui Xin uttered it hoarsely.
This was an enormous cocoon, tightly enclosed within a glass apparatus. Gray thread-like strands, resembling spider webs, were layered densely over the glass enclosure.
The cocoon had a slight transparency, revealing something continuously struggling within, seemingly eager to break free.
Seemingly sensing Kui Xin’s gaze, the entity within the cocoon slightly stirred.
A bright yellow eye suddenly opened and peered through the cocoon, locking directly onto Kui Xin’s eyes.
Kui Xin’s mind buzzed the moment she saw this eye, as chaotic visions invaded her brain, accompanied by garbled and distorted whispers howling in her ears.
In the last second before losing consciousness, she heard Yadang say, “Rest in peace, my friend. In your final journey, I shall recite prayers for you.”